past denial, into the moment.
It’s all up to me. Slide down
the steeps, into belief. I am
no more, no less than this ride.
Midmorning
The crowd is starting to build.
Most people prefer the high-
speed chairs, and those lines
are long. Not sure why so few
enjoy the old-fashioned slow
lifts to the top, but I love these
unrushed minutes. Suddenly
the chair bumps to a stop.
Problems below in the loading
zone, no doubt. I look over
at the racecourse run. The pines
at its edges have grown. How long
has it been since Conner and I
raced there? Four years? Five? I was
never fast enough to earn the medal
I coveted. Conner often placed in
the top three but never cared about
winning. I’ve often wondered how
twins could be so different. Why did
the one with the talent lack the drive?
The Lift Starts Up Again
I survey the terrain beneath me,
find a relatively unpopulated route
down through the trees. Risky
to ride there alone, but I doubt
I’ll have a whole lot of trouble.
Despite my parents’ lukewarm
support, I’ve been skiing or boarding
for years. I might not be as fast
as Conner, but unlike him, I rarely
take a fall. I disembark the chair,
traverse the flats, brake to a stop
beside a tall sugar pine, scan
the landscape for the approximate
path I saw. There. That’s it, I think.
Swoop into the woods, slalom
cedar and fir, each low branch a claw
menacing my hair and face.
I manage to avoid them all.
What I don’t miss is the boulder
tip, lurking out of view, just
beneath the surface of the snow.
It scrapes my board, catching
it just enough to send me, face
forward, into a deep, wide drift.
I inhale snow. I swallow snow.
When I open my eyes, I see white.
I cartwheel my arms, but can’t get
traction. I bite back panic. Think.
For some weird reason, though
I’m pretty much buried, I can
breathe. What I can’t seem to do
is get myself out. I’m such an idiot!
I could die right now and who
knows when they would find me?
Silent here, in my tomb. Warm.
I could sleep. That would be easy.…
Suddenly I hear, Hang on.
The snow around me loosens.
I am yanked backward. My lungs
grab air. My eyes find color. I’m free.
My Rescuer
Rolls me onto my back. Are you
okay? Damn, girl, it’s a good
thing I happened to come this
way. You’re crazy to shoot trees
solo. She looks down at me with
black walnut eyes, and in them I
find equal parts disgust, amusement,
and awe. She offers her hand, pulls
me up on my feet. “Thanks.”
I should say more, but it hits
me that this stranger might have
saved my life. All repartee deserts
me. She is close to my age. Tall.
Exotic. I don’t know her, but
I want to. Our eyes lock, and I feel
something stir. Something restless.
Disquieting. A rustle of leaves.
A rattle of glass. A snarl, before
the witch wind awakens,
screeching, impossible to ignore.
And this person is to blame.
She smiles, and I like how warm
that makes me feel. I am melting.
Maybe we should buddy up?
Why not? “S-sure.” The voice
is throaty, not mine at all. Oh
my God. What’s wrong with me?
My face flares, dry-ice hot.
She can’t help but notice. You
sure you’re okay? You look…
never mind. She lowers her goggles.
I’m Danielle, by the way. Uh, Dani.
“Cara.” God, could I manage
multiword sentences, maybe?
“And thanks again.” There.
Three words. Blood whooshes
in my ears and I barely hear
her say, No problem. She turns,
pushes off, and I follow her down
through snow-draped trees.
This Part Of The Hill
Is steep. Unforgiving. A lot
of work. But Dani surfs it like
she was born on a board. To keep
up, I have to forget about face-
plants and possible outcomes.
Finally we exit the trees, and our
trail merges with a beginner run.
Newbies and posers fan out across
the gentle slope, some upright,
some on their butts, some flat on
their backs like sea lions sunning.
Dani cuts through them. I follow.
I hate crowds, and would call it
quits, except… I’m not sure.
I feel scared. Hopeful. Borderline
sick, sort of like it’s my first day
at a new school. I watch Dani
hold a tight line down the side
of the run. Confident. Lithe.
Bold. Oh yes, I have to know her.
It Isn’t Until
We are both seated safely on
the (slow—hurray!) chair that it hits
me. “You said I was crazy to shoot
trees solo. So what about you?”
What about me, what? She scoots
sideways, her knee touches mine.
And for some crazy reason, I want
her to kiss me. Wait. What?
She hasn’t come on to me at all.
Oh. She’s waiting for my answer.
“Why did you take that way down?
You were riding all by yourself.”
She shrugs. Maybe I’m psychic.
I saw you go that way. Figured
I’d better keep an eye on you.
Why are you alone, anyway?
Keep an eye on me? How long was
she watching me? My turn to shrug.
“I asked my boyfriend to come,
but he had baseball practice.”
Oh. She makes a point of moving
her knee away from mine. For
some reason, I had a different idea
about you. I thought you might be…
I slide my leg back against hers.
“I might be.” Then I admit, “But
I’m not sure.” I don’t say that falling
in love with a girl doesn’t fit
well in my master plan. Love?
What dark little recess of my brain
did that word creep out of?
This isn’t fire. It’s only a spark.
Well, I definitely am. I’ve known
since I was, like, five and wanted
my Barbies to get married. To each
other. My friends were disgusted.
Her Laugh Is So Freaking Sexy
Husky. Deep. And totally real.
Somehow I doubt she’s fake
about much. “What about
your friends now?” But there’s
no time for her to answer.
The chair swings wide at
the top of the hill. Together
we stand, move to one side
to discuss the best way down.
Let’s ta
ke that long beginner run
around the back of the mountain.
A no-brainer will be fun. She doesn’t
wait for me to say okay,
so I trail her along a wide
track, dodging snow-plowers.
She seems to take a wrong
turn into a thick stand of trees.
But when she stops, I realize
she came this way purposely.
We are curtained by pines.
When I draw even, she looks
into my eyes, sending shivers up
my spine. Have you ever kissed
a girl? Her boldness is a surprise,
but when I shake my head,
her reaction is no more than
I expected. And honestly, hoped
for. Dani’s lips are soft, raspberry
gloss sweet. The kiss is tentative,
but only for those few moments
that can never happen again.
Desire is scratching at the door.
Terrifying. Electrifying. But I have
to know what it means. I inhale
the perfume of the forest, of the girl.
The two are intoxicating.
Dani stops. Pulls back. So?
The kiss was saturated with need.
I feel light-headed. Hungered.
The witch wind has been freed.
Kendra
Light
That’s how I feel—
like the winter-fringed
breeze might scoop
me up into its wings,
fly
away with me trapped
in its feathered embrace.
I am a snowflake.
A wisp of eiderdown,
liberated
from gravity. My body
is light. Ephemeral.
My head is light.
I want to sway
beneath
the weight of air,
dizzy with thought.
Light filters through
my closed eyelids.
The sun,
chasing shadows,
tells me I’m not
afloat in dreams.
Dreams
Keep me in bed late this morning.
Usually I’m up with the sun, but not
when I’m slow dancing with Conner.
Even in sleep, the familiar scent
of his skin—clean and tinged with
some deep woods perfume—fills
the vacant place inside me, the one
he emptied when he left me behind.
But well beyond daybreak, he holds me
so tightly I can barely draw breath.
We move to the music, and his lips buzz
against my ear. I love you. I want you.
Then, as dreams often do, the scene
shifts, fast-forward, and we are floating
on a sea of soft summer grass, clothes
strewn around us like wildflowers.
Conner traces the outline of my body,
fingers dipping lightly into the concave
spaces between each rib. Perfect. He kisses
the line of my jaw, down my neck,
to the raised ridge of collarbone. His tongue
slides across it. Mmm. Delicious. What else
can I taste? He finds other places, each
more intimate than the last, and I am beyond
ready to let him take me all the way
there. But just as I think we finally
will, he sits up. Pulls far away. I don’t
know what to say except, “Don’t stop.”
I’m sorry, he answers. I can’t stay. And
even though I can still feel his hand
stroking the hill of my hip, he is gone.
I wake, crying out for someone never there.
I Don’t Feel Light Anymore
I feel like someone has tied bricks
to my arms and legs. Weighted by loss,
I lie immobile for maybe twenty minutes,
eyes closed, hoping I’ll fall back into
the dream, find Conner has changed
his mind. But I don’t sleep. Don’t dream.
Across the room, I hear Jenna stir.
She always sleeps late on weekends.
If I’m still in bed, it usually means
I’m sick. When she notices me, she gasps.
But she doesn’t bother being quiet.
What’s up with you? Got the flu?
My head never leaves the pillow.
“Don’t know.” What am I going
to say? That I want to go searching
for Conner? “Why do you care?”
I don’t want to catch anything nasty.
Keep your germs all to yourself.
She goes to the closet, digs for a bit,
emerges with one of my favorite
sweaters—a cornflower angora. Hey.
Can I wear this? Pretty please?
Is she crazy? “Not even. Not
the way you treat my clothes.”
It doesn’t fit you anymore, anyway.
She slips it on. See? Just right.
I have to admit it looks great on her,
accentuating each and every curve.
I would probably swim in it. “Okay.”
When was the last time I wore it?
Jenna Goes To Shower
And when she emerges from the bath-
room, steam trailing her, there’s something
about her that I can’t attribute to the sweater,
or the makeup, or the way she has blow-dried
her long white-gold hair. At last, I pull myself
upright. “Um… got a big date or something?”
Fact is, I’ve never seen her with a guy.
Didn’t know she even had one on her radar.
She smiles. Don’t know how “big”
it is. But I guess you could call it
a date. It’s just lunch and a movie.
She doesn’t volunteer more, and
I know she’s expecting me to want
information. I definitely do. “With who?”
Her grin widens. I met him at your
plastic surgeon’s office. He’s her son.
Her Son?
Okay, wait. Process… process…
“So, you mean…” She can’t be serious.
He’s black? Yep. Definitely black.
And really cute. And smart. And rich…
Won’t mean a thing to our father, who’s a half
step away from the KKK. “Uh, what about…?”
Her face darkens, eclipsed by thoughts
of Daddy. I don’t give a damn about Dad.
“Well, you should. He didn’t walk out
on Mom, you know.” We’ve had this
argument before. Her answer will be
the same as always. That doesn’t mean
he needs to take it out on me… or you.
We didn’t ask Mom to leave him.
She’s totally right. Daddy pretty much
pretends we don’t even exist anymore.
We sometimes get cards on our birthdays,
once in a while with Wal-Mart gift cards
inside. Ditto Christmas. But he never asks
to see us. I think we remind him too much
of Mom. One thing’s for sure, though.
If he finds out Jenna’s going out with
a black guy, he will most definitely take
an interest. “Okay, well, it’s all fine by me.
Just remember guys are mostly only
after one thing.” I sound like a mom.
Her smile returns. Even when
you’re dreaming about them?
Oh my God. “What do you mean?”
Now I really feel sick. Burning up.
Jenna laughs. You talk in your sleep
sometimes. And sometimes you moan.
I Throw My Pillow
It misses her by a mile, and it comes
to me that we haven’t shared a sister
moment like this in quite a while.
Not since we moved in with Patrick.
I have to get ready to go now.
Andre’s picking me up at eleven.
Eleven? Holy crap. I slept away
most of the morning. Not a good
way to burn calories. I’ll have to
work out an extra hour. I try not
to look at the mirror as I make my
way to the toilet for an overdue pee.
When I come out of the bathroom,
I glance out the window just in time
to see Jenna scoot into a hot little
Audi. Metallic blue. Nice car. I hope
this Andre person is nice too. My sister
pisses me off regularly, but I don’t want
to see her get hurt. And a guy is the surest
path to heartbreak that I know. I put on
sweats, pull my hair back into a ponytail.
If I’m going to work out for two hours,
I have to eat something. Our kitchen
is the devil’s den, the cupboards filled
with carb-laden crap. The kind that
goes straight to your thighs and belly.
The fridge is a little better. I’ve become
an expert label reader and calorie counter.
One orange: thirty-five calories, eight grams
carbs. Ten grapes: thirty calories, nine
grams carbs. One tomato: nine calories,
two grams carbs. I choose the tomato.
One Tomato
Two thin slices of Healthy Fare
turkey, and two glasses of water
later, I make a call. “Hello? Is Sean
there?” Long pause while his little
brother goes to look for him. Finally,
Uh, no. He’s got baseball practice.
“Oh. Well, this is Kendra. I was hoping