Overtaken (11 page)

I scoped out the bottom of the hill, where all the trails led back to one shining point: the lodge. It was so close, yet so far. I just had to summon what was left of my quickly dwindling energy and make it there. Then I could finally be released from these medieval torture contraptions on my feet. I started to shuffle away when I realized my less-than-fortuitous timing. I could make out two tiny figures in the distance, careening down the final stretch of Whiteface's most challenging run: Jackson and Dana. They were weaving in and out of each other's paths in a striking display of athleticism. It had just taken everything I had to survive (most of ) the bunny hill, and there they were, the perfect couple. Effortless. The knife of jealousy slid into my side like butter.

As difficult as it was to watch the king and queen of Barrington High, I couldn't tear my eyes away. I had never seen Jackson in this light before. When I'd met him, he'd been broken, a shell of himself in the wake of his missing girlfriend and Barrington's increasingly strange events. What I had never considered was that Dana's return would restore him to someone entirely different—a complete stranger. He was someone I didn't know, and he seemed so blissfully happy. I wasn't sure I was ready to admit it, but I couldn't help wondering if Jackson and Dana were truly meant for each other.

Drained of any remaining enthusiasm, I ended up completely reversing my previous gung-ho strategy and tried to continue down the hill as slowly as possible. Maybe if I went slowly enough I could retreat to the lodge without having to go back up the hill again. I was ready to face a few condescending smirks at the equipment rental if it meant I could trade my gear for indoor heating and a warm beverage. Pushing off with the ski poles (at this point, I had picked up at least one thing from the surrounding tykes), I sent myself hurtling toward the bottom. It felt faster than it probably was and a little bit terrifying, but for a few moments I was actually enjoying myself. I wasn't about to close my eyes and reach a personal nirvana, but I suddenly got it. The wind didn't feel as cold, the sun seemed to shine a little brighter, and the world raced by around me. Everything slowed. The obnoxious kids, the doting parents, the chaos on all sides turned into a half-speed ballet that played out for my enjoyment.

Maybe, I thought, maaaaybe I could get used to this.

But then I realized I was dangerously close to the bottom of the hill. The lodge was looming, and I had no way of slowing down. I tried my e-brake trick again, a bit gentler this time, but the stutter stops just tossed me around like prey in the jaws of disaster. The ballet sped back up to real time and blended into swirls of color around me as I lost all sense of control. Up was down; down was up—

Crack
. And in an instant, light was dark.

“Nica? You all right?”

I couldn't feel my ears. Holy shit. I'd hit my head—did I tear them off? I grabbed at the sides of my face, fingers quickly confirming that was crazy. Ears: check. Arms intact. Where was I?

“Hey, you're okay,” the deep voice said reassuringly.

I blinked away the bright white light to see Chase Cochran standing over me.

“Wiped out,” Chase affirmed. “Looked like you slammed your head pretty bad.”

Oh, right. Ski Club. Whiteface. Colorado. America. The ringing in my ears began to subside as I gathered my senses and offered Chase my hand. He pulled me up. He was strong—unsurprising, I guess, but I wasn't expecting to be literally whisked off my feet. I could feel myself warming up already.

“Yeah. Guess I did. Everything look all right?”

His fingers gently touched my neck as I tilted my head back and forth and he checked for injuries. “Flawless.” He grinned as he pronounced his official medical judgment.

I smiled back. Don't judge. I was still dazed from the fall. Flirty as the moment was, I had no desire to stay out in the freezing cold. I wanted to be inside, wrapped in a blanket, thinking about what had just happened while I waited for the bus to take us all home.

“Okay, well, see you in there. . . .” I was still so dazed, I wasn't really sure what else to say. Without another word, I turned away from my would-be white knight.

I'd momentarily forgotten that there wasn't much traction to be found on the snowy ground, but my skis gave me a friendly reminder. As I moved, my feet shot in two different directions, and I fell over into a clumsy split. Chase caught the back of my jacket and kept me from spilling face-first into the snow.

“C'mon,” he said. “Let me give you a lesson.”

“No, I'm fine.”

“Think you can make it the whole way to the clubhouse on your own?” His voice betrayed an unusual level of concern.

I looked up and saw the peaked roof in the distance, probably a hundred yards, but it seemed like miles. Dammit, Chase.

“Okay, one run and that's it,” I relented.

Chase smiled and gave me his arm as we trudged back toward the lift.

Through the bright green pines trawling by, I spotted a fleck of dark concrete. It perched on the side of the mountain like a large, exposed boulder, but as the lift pulled us higher into the air and closer to the object, I realized it was man-made. I nudged Chase.

“What's that?” He followed my finger as I continued. “A cabin or something? Do people stay that far up the mountain?”

Chase squinted too, and then he cocked his head. “Probably one of Bar Tech's.”

They're everywhere,
I thought. But I couldn't say that to Chase. It was still up for debate as to whether or not his sudden kindness toward me was motivated by a misguided desire to hook up, or if there was something else going on. It remained to be seen if I could totally trust him. After all, I knew less about him than he did about me. I didn't really like it that way, so I decided to keep digging.

“Up here?” I gently pressed, as if I were just making random conversation. “I thought all their offices were in town.”

“Now they are. Back when my dad first took over as president, there were buildings the whole way up Whiteface. The company was doing tons of research up here. Atmosphere something or other. Science stuff. They weren't making any money with it, so he shut the whole wing down. Saved them a lot of trouble, he said.”

I nodded, keeping my eyes locked on the building. It's not that Chase's explanation was unreasonable, but the idea that Bar Tech had left a footprint here, in the otherwise pristine wilderness, chilled me more than the air whipping at my cheeks.

I stared at the building. Abandoned, huh? I dared a door to open or a guard to foolishly step out onto the roof so I could prove to myself that Chase was lying or that he was blind to the truth. I watched it until the chair evened out and the building disappeared behind the evergreens. I saw nothing.

I suspected everything.

Moments later I stood at the top of the bunny hill, staring down and fighting off vertigo.

“It's simple, Nica. Honestly. Side to side. Side to side.” Chase demonstrated on the flat surface, bending his knees left and right. Here I was, a girl who could turn invisible at will but was unable to master the simple physics of gravity, inertia, and downhill motion.

“Simple for you,” I shot back. “You grew up doing this.”

“Did I?”

“Uh, I mean—” I suddenly felt foolish. “You did, didn't you?”

Chase shook his head. “You're not the only one who's had to learn how to fit in, Nica.”

His admission caught me by surprise. In my mind, Chase Cochran had always been the king of the school, as bestowed upon him through birthright, but he seemed to be indicating otherwise.

“Freshman year,” he continued, “I had, like, zero friends. My dad had to let some people go at Bar Tech and everyone knew he was to blame. A lot of angry kids took it out on me. I was the son of the big, bad boss. No one could separate him and me. Their parents were too upset.”

Oh, Chase. You have no idea.

“Couldn't hang anywhere and no one wanted to come to my house. I joined Ski Club, but the only problem was that I was useless on these things. Maybe worse than you. I crashed every time I went down and sat up covered in snow.”

“So who taught you how to get better?”

“No one. I had to teach myself.”

In that moment, some of the ice I'd let build up around my heart started to thaw. Chase Cochran, self-made man, was applying direct heat. Clearly his struggle to land himself at the top of the social heap had worked, even if his dad's agenda hadn't changed. Was this a new Chase Cochran?

But then came the gaggle of slim girls with effortless, self-confident smiles—sticks, all of them, even in their winter-sports gear—and there went Chase's attention. I rolled my eyes at the jock's obliviously obvious tongue wagging.

“Side to side,” I deadpanned, letting my gaze follow his. The girls turned their heads to smile at the attention they'd attracted as they walked by, and Chase was smitten.

“Oh, man. That's Kat from French . . .” He couldn't even finish his sentence as he followed the toned backsides. Like iron to magnets, I observed.

“I'm sure Kat wouldn't appreciate you staring,” I teased.

“No, it's just . . . She has a homework thing and I told her I'd do her. Do it for her,” he quickly corrected, quite flustered. “With her. Whatever. Can we do the lesson another time?”

“Hell yeah. I'll call you.” And he skied off to claim his prize.

I turned to face facts: There was still only one way to the bottom of this hill, and I'd learned nothing about how to get there.

My second trip down was no less clumsy than the first, but I was ready to call it quits. The lodge was immense, warm, and charming. It was almost enough to make me forget the bruises, jammed fingers, and throbbing knees I'd developed trying to come to a stop just outside the building's doors.

Almost.

I felt like one of the broken burglars at the end of
Home Alone
as I limped past benches of yammering skiers. I pulled my knit hat from my head and ran my fingers through my tangled, icy locks. I was presented with my reflection in one of the windows that looked out onto the slopes—ooof. Looked like I got lost somewhere between the washer and the dryer. I noticed pairs of eyes following me as I dragged my bedraggled ass toward the snack stand. I'm sure if I'd stopped to offer so much as a “hello” to a stranger, they would've just politely pretended not to see me.

If only they knew.

“Hey, Nica!” Oliver swung past me with a steaming cup of hot chocolate. “You look like you need to come crash by the fire.”

“Long as it's more comfortable than the ground.”

“Definitely. Here.” He handed me his hot chocolate. “I'll get another. Sit. Before you fall over.”

I took a welcome sip. The warm cocoa rushed over my tongue, and my cheeks flushed with warmth.

“Thanks,” I said, appreciative of Oliver's genuine concern for my well-being.

“No problem. I'll join you in a sec.”

The fire was built and roaring (or, more likely, someone just turned up the gas) by the time I got to the couches on the other side of the large room. No one else appeared as rough as I did, even though I'm sure they'd all tackled much more aggressive runs. I tried to temper my self-conscious thoughts as I drifted into the mix and found an empty spot on a couch. While I expected excited chatter and stories swapped from the slopes, it took me only two seconds to realize that this gathering by the fire wasn't here for idle chatter. Everyone here was focused on the words of one person: Topher.

The normally reserved kid had a wicked grin on his face as he pulled everyone closer just by lowering his voice.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Total destruction. I can't believe you guys never heard about it. Nica, have you?” Everyone turned to scope my strung-out-looking visage as I froze in the headlights of Topher's question.

“Sorry. Have I what?” I felt a surge of panic at being put on the spot like that.

“Heard about the avalanche,” he responded ominously. Unless “avalanche” was some sort of slang I was too much of a loser to know, I had to admit I had not.

I shook my head.

Topher's smile grew the way one's does when they know they're about to unleash a great story on an unsuspecting audience.

“It was 1846. The first settlement at Barrington had been completed by a collection of miners, trappers, and pioneers. Wasn't a huge city, just a hub for prospectors to get laid and families to kick up their heels safely for a night or two before continuing on the trail west. The government had even dropped real money to get a postal hub anchored in town, twenty years before the pony express would start helping to push letters and packages to California. Anyway, everyone knew it was an outpost in violent, difficult country, but no one had any idea that Whiteface was going to prove to be as deadly as it was.”

I listened with rapt attention, as did everyone else, hooked by Topher's tale.

“No one knows if the avalanche was completely natural or if surveyors and prospectors set off some dynamite in the wrong place, but the mountain unleashed a wall of snow that took the town completely off guard. There was no time to run. The entire place was buried, like Pompeii under ice instead of ash. There're still rumors that the original buildings are actually underground, buried under a permanent layer of ice on the east side of town, closest to where Whiteface meets the valley.”

Taking a look around at the faces of the other kids, I could see they were enthralled. Their wide-eyed stares were filled with visions of apocalyptic waves of white. I got a chill that subsided when a stuffy-nosed sophomore spoke up.

“Could it happen again?”

Topher solemnly shook his head. “There's no way of knowing. It could happen today or tomorrow or next week.”

A new voice broke through—it was Oliver, returning with his hot chocolate and shaking his head.

“The Whiteface thing? It takes ice shelves centuries to build up like that. There's enough snow up there to bury us, but it isn't sitting on anything that'll come loose on such a massive scale. If it happens again, we'll all be long gone.”

“But what if there's still a town here? What about those people?” Dana's cheerleading friend Annie asked with an expression of fear and trepidation, as if the lost people were ghosts who lurked on the mountain.

Oliver took a long breath. “I was speaking about humans more generally. Long gone.”

Not everyone was amused by Oliver's slightly darker outlook on things, but I thought it was funny. Topher did too. His answer didn't seem to satisfy anybody else, and the crowd started to thin.

“I think we scared them,” Oliver said.

Topher shrugged. “Whatever. Most of these guys like Noah more anyway.” Topher looked at me. There was sadness in his eyes, and it betrayed his true feelings about the way the crowd had parted. I sensed he was lonely. Or maybe I was projecting.

“Screw 'em,” I blurted out. “You had me on the edge of my seat.”

An annoying chaperone interrupted. Lucy Mangione was an overbearing, angular algebra teacher who always wore red. “Getting dark, kids. Time to pack it in. Bus leaves in thirty.”

I downed the rest of my hot chocolate and parted ways with the guys.

I don't think Jackson meant for me to hear his low, urgent tones as he leaned in to Dana's ear. In fact, he didn't even know I was there—“there” being the secluded hallway near the locker rooms. For my part, I hadn't meant to be spying, either. I was ready to get off this mountain as quick as I could.

I stopped at the snack machines and then I heard Dana's melodious laugh. I was used to hearing it ring out in the hallways at school, and I recognized it instantly—a distinct, bell-like jingle. I peeked around the corner from where I was struggling with my cash and saw Barrington's Most Popular hanging out with a group of fresh-faced girls near the slushy back entrance to the lodge. Chase's French muse, Kat, was among them. As I was considering moving closer to catch a hint of what they might be yammering on about, Jackson came down the hall. I froze. I didn't want him to catch me eavesdropping, but he was moving so fast that I ducked into an alcove. He breezed past me to put his arm around Dana. They chatted for a second before heading back toward me, where they slowed to a stop. Jackson rested his palm on the glowing vending machine. He bent close to Dana, his voice burdened with import.