Perfect (10 page)

First Decent Day In Weeks

Mt. Rose will be swarming by noon.

Good thing I got here early.

Nothing much better than first

tracks beneath cloud-clear skies.

Heaven must be something

like boarding on night-crisped virgin

powder. Lingering atop a cornice,

few other people in sight, I take

a deep pull of winter-spiked air, finesse

over the lip. Two sweeping turns

to safety. Here, where there are no

hypercritical eyes, I slip

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 take 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,