Dad smirks. “I thought my excellent beer would do that.”
“Well, yeah, but you want people to feel welcomed, like the brewery’s giving them a hug from the minute they walk in.” They both raise their brows and I wave a hand at them. “Come on, you know what I mean. Haven’t you been to a place where, from the moment you step inside, you feel comfortable? Like you want to settle in and never leave?”
They nod half-heartedly.
“This space here,” I wave at the large opening near the front door, “this is too open. People come out because they want to be a part of the action, so put them in the middle of it as soon as they step inside.” I touch my finger to my lip. “Although if you do that, then you don’t have a place for people to stand while they’re waiting for a table.”
“What about here?” Blake points at two tables wedged against a wooden support pole. “This is prime leaning space.” I tilt my head at Blake, and he shrugs. “We had the same problem at the restaurant until we rearranged the tables.”
Dad rubs a hand over his jaw. “That makes sense. I’ve been to places where you have nowhere to wait.”
I nod. “You feel like you’re in the way and by the time you get to your table, you’re in a bad mood. Or at least I am.”
Dad rests his hand on the beam. “I wonder if it’s too late to add a ledge for glasses.” He grabs a notebook off the table with our bagels. “Remind me to increase your allowance.” He scribbles a note and nods. “What else you got?”
I walk them through the rest of the brewery, channeling my inner HGTV and pointing out details that will make Calliope stand out. “The artwork seems a little high. Maybe lower it so it’s eye level?” I glance at Dad and he’s still writing, so I take that as approval. “The bookcase with games should be closer to the area with couches, and you need hooks under the bar and on the ends of the booths.”
Blake tilts his head. “Hooks?”
“For purses and coats. I will never forget these ladies who sat near us last winter going crazy because the tables had hooks and they didn’t have to rest their purse on the table or the floor.”
Dad nods. “Got it.”
I turn in a circle. “And I think that’s it.”
Dad gives me hug. “It sounds like I need to make another trip to the hardware store. Can you two handle the other things while I’m gone?”
My stomach flips. More time alone with Blake. “Sure, Dad.”
He grabs his keys off the table and points a finger at me as he walks out the door.
“Yeah, yeah.” I face the bookcase. “Let’s start with the games. It makes sense to have them by the couches, right?” I look up at Blake just as his head dips toward mine. His arms slip around me and I melt against his body as his lips move over mine, sending my nerve endings on fire. I reach for his hair, tangling my fingers behind his head and pulling him closer. He tightens his grip and takes a step forward, moving us toward the couches. I pause when the back of my legs hit leather. “The store isn’t far away.”
His normally bright eyes are dark, and his lips are swollen from our kiss. We’re both breathing heavily and I want to fall back onto the couch and lose myself in him, but Dad won’t be long. I press another kiss to his mouth then slide away from him.
He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. “Bookcase. Right.”
I smile at him and we burst out laughing.
We’ve got the boxes of games rearranged and are in the middle of a fierce game of Jenga when Dad returns. “Don’t worry, Blake’s about to lose, then we’ll get back to work.” I slide a piece from near the bottom and place it at the top. The tower wobbles, but doesn’t fall, and I smirk at Blake.
I expect a teasing comment from Dad, but he’s watching us from the doorway, his face pale.
My stomach twists. “What?”
“You haven’t heard the news?”
The avalanche. I’ve been so preoccupied with Blake and setting up that I didn’t think to check. I shake my head. “Did they find everyone?”
Dad nods.
Blake’s voice cracks. “Are they alive?”
“They rescued nine people, but three people died.”
I lean back and the Jenga pieces scatter. “Omigod.”
“Who?”
Dad clears his throat. “A married couple and,” he pauses, watching me. “And a boy from your school. They’ve already released the names of the victims.”
Blake stiffens next to me. “Was it Reece?”
Dad nods and a wave of nausea sweeps through me. Reece can’t be dead. He’s so full of life and energy and— “Are they sure?”
“I’m sorry, sweetie.”
We sit in silence, each lost in our thoughts, the only sounds the furnace kicking on and the tick of the clock over the bar. This doesn’t feel real. Kids my age aren’t supposed to die, especially not on the side of a mountain. Driving, sure. But the mountain is my safe place and now I don’t know what to think.
I rest my head in my hands, my eyes burning for a boy I barely knew. But while I might not have known Reece very well, I know what this will do to his family. And so does Blake. I lean closer so our shoulders touch. “You okay?”
He shakes his head. When he speaks, his voice is thick. “Everything about Cody is playing in a loop in my head. When he fell, being at the hospital, the funeral—“ He stops abruptly and I rest my hand on his. Sometimes words can’t make things better.
After a while Dad moves to my side and rests a hand on my shoulder. “You know I’m here if you need me. Both of you.”
I nod, and look at Blake. His face is pale and his eyes shine with unshed tears. I squeeze his hand as my phone dings with a text.
It’s Mike. Have you heard?
Yeah. I can’t believe it.
Everyone’s going to school.
Now?
Yeah. It’s some sort of vigil.
“Everyone’s at the school.”
Blake faces me, his expression unreadable.
Dad clears his throat. “You should go be with your friends. I can finish up here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Be home in time for dinner.”
I nod, feeling numb. I slip into my coat on autopilot and Dad pulls me into a hug.
“Are you gonna be okay?”
I tuck my face against his shirt. “I don’t know. I feel helpless.”
“I’m here if you want to talk.”
“Thanks Dad.” I step away and Blake holds out a hand to Dad.
“Thanks for letting me help today, sir.”
“You’re thanking me for letting you work?” Dad smiles at me. “Okay, maybe I’m starting to like him.”
I try to roll my eyes but give up mid-roll. My heart’s not in it.
Dad gives me another hug at the door and whispers, “At the very least, I can see why you like him. He seems like a good kid.”
Blake’s parked in front, but I hesitate in front of his Jeep, not ready to leave just yet. “Can we walk a little?”
We wander through downtown hand in hand, not talking, but taking comfort in each other’s presence. I stop near a sculpture of a frog.
“Reece is the first person I’ve known who’s died since my mom. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
Blake pushes a pile of snow with his toe. “I don’t think we’re supposed to know.”
It’s not an answer, but knowing he feels as helpless as I do makes me feel less alone and I’m grateful that we have each other. He doesn’t mention his brother again but he has to be thinking about him.
When I’m so cold I can’t feel my face, we head back to his Jeep and drive to school. With death so strongly on my mind, I can’t help but think of Mom and the way she died. Blake’s motions are effortless—step on the clutch while he shifts, turn the wheel with one hand—l
ike he doesn’t have to think about how to make the vehicle move. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that.
He turns into the school parking lot. Dozens of cars are parked near the main entrance. I spot Mike—on crutches—and head her way.
I give her a hug. “Is it broken?”
“Torn ligament. I might need surgery but they won’t know for sure until the swelling goes down.”
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have made you go on that run.”
She adjusts her grip on the crutches. “It’s not your fault. I was doing fine until the mountain exploded.”
I smile. “Yeah, you were.”
A girl carrying a cardboard box stops next to us and hands us each a candle. Mike’s gaze falls to the ground. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”
“Did you know him well?”
“He and Evan are pretty tight so he was pretty much always there.” She bites the corner of her lip and closes her eyes. “I can’t even imagine what he’s going through.”
Blake puts his arm around my shoulder. “Is he here?”
“Yeah, but I haven’t seen him.”
People continue to arrive, filling in the sidewalks and grass in front of the school, but the candles aren’t lit until Evan makes his way through the crowd. He looks exhausted as he climbs onto the low wall along the main sidewalk and looks out over the crowd. He starts to talk, then closes his eyes. Pressing his hand to his throat, he tries again. His voice is hoarse but he holds his candle out for everyone to see. “Reece was my best friend. Anyone who knew him... loved him.” His voice cracks. “It won’t—it won’t be the same without him. He just made everything... better.” He lowers his head and the people closest to him touch his arms in an attempt to console him. When he lifts his head again, tears stream down his face. “I can’t believe I’ll never see him again.” He jumps off the wall and is engulfed in a group hug.
Tears burn my eyes and I lean into Blake’s body. He tightens his grip.
Mike’s eyes haven’t left Evan. I expect to see tears when she turns around, but she’s scowling. “I can’t believe those bitches are acting like they care.”
I crane my neck to see who she’s talking about, but I know who she means before I see them. Of course the Bunnies are front and center. Forget that Evan’s made it clear he doesn’t like them—they’ve got their arms wrapped around him as if their world is collapsing, too.
Blake shuffles toward Mike, keeping me tucked against his side, and I wrap an arm around her. She tucks her head into my shoulder and her body shakes.
Other people stand on the wall and share their memories of Reece, and soon everyone around us is sniffling. Even Blake. I touch his cheek and his eyes meet mine. I search for the right words but nothing is right. Kids our age shouldn’t die.
A hand grazes my arm that’s holding Mike.
Evan.
His normally bright eyes are red and swollen, and he looks like he’ll never smile again. I gently push Mike toward him and they hold each other, sobs wracking their bodies. I nudge Blake away and rest my head on his chest, lost in thoughts of death and loss and how just when you think you have life figured out, something happens that rips it all to shreds.
The week passes in a daze. The majority of the student body wears black in honor of Reece and the halls are eerily quiet, like someone pressed pause on life. I write my most memorable event paper—hello, avalanche—and I’m already dreading the final essay. I try not to think of the awful day Mom died, but knowing it’s due next week when Reece hasn’t even been buried is making it hard to breathe. Fortunately the teachers are being super understanding about the comatose students and are going especially easy on us.
The only thing that snaps me out of my stupor is a rumor that they might cancel the Dash. “How long does it normally take to clean up after an avalanche?”
Mike shrugs. We’re in the cafeteria, picking at our lunch. “Considering people died, probably longer than normal.”
I look down at the table and Blake rubs my shoulder. “We know. You really want to be on the ski team. But winning the Dash isn’t the only way. There’s still tryouts.”
I sigh. For the first time since I found out about the competition, my excitement weakens. As much as I want to be on the team, it no longer feels like the most important thing in the world. “I know. It’s just that I’ve gotten myself so amped up for this thing.”
Mike smirks. “Yeah, we know.”
I throw a fry at her, but Blake snatches it off her tray and pops it in his mouth. “No wasting fries.”
It’s not until Thursday, the day of Reece’s funeral, that a decision is made. The loudspeaker clicks on during English and all eyes lock on the speaker above Ms. Simpson’s desk.
“Good afternoon. We know many of you have been waiting to hear about the Eldora Dash. Officials have decided that because Corona wasn’t affected—” Everyone in the classroom takes a breath, “—the race will continue as planned. Good luck to those of you competing.” The speaker clicks and there’s a beat of silence before the speculation on which run was affected begins.
“I heard the chairlift got taken out on West Ridge.”
“Thank god they’re not moving it to Pacer Glades. That’s a double black.”
“Like an easier course will make a difference for you.”
I twist in my chair and lock eyes with Blake. He smiles, sending a flurry of butterflies loose in my stomach.
The Dash is on.
The school allowed anyone to go to Reece’s funeral, regardless of whether or not they were actually friends with him, and even though I’ll miss his quick smile and perverted comments, I can’t bring myself to go.
I haven’t been to a funeral since Mom died and I can’t imagine being back in that dusty pew, the air thick with sickeningly-sweet floral arrangements that make it almost impossible to breathe, pretending not to be overwhelmed by the crushing realization that she’s gone. I’m sure it would be different since it’s Reece, but I don’t want to chance it.
So many kids took advantage of the opportunity to miss class that the teachers in my last couple periods don’t even bother giving a lesson, so I’m caught up on homework before the end of the day. The only thing I still haven’t started is my final essay. You’d think it would be easy with death constantly on my mind, but I’m like a deer frozen in the headlights of an oncoming car: every time I start to write, I freeze.
***
Friday night Blake and I are snuggled on my couch watching a ski-movie marathon: Better Off Dead, Ski School, and a little known gem called Aspen Extreme. I’ve also got Jonny Moseley’s greatest hits running on my phone.
“This is how you get amped up?” he asks for the hundredth time.
I nod, entranced with Jonny’s aerials.
He leans closer, resting his head on my shoulder. “Should I be concerned?”
I turn my head and our noses bump. His blue eyes are focused on mine and all thoughts scatter. “Hmm?”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “You’re gonna do great.”
I blink, clearing away the haze that envelops my brain whenever he’s this close. “And I can’t convince you to enter?”
He closes his eyes and presses his forehead against the side of my head. “I told you...”
“That it’s not your thing. I know.” I don’t want to push him if he really isn’t into it, but he’s so good. I pick at the blanket covering our laps. “I wish you could see you the way I do. It’s like your board is a part of you and your movements are as natural as breathing.”
“Funny, that’s how I’d describe you.” He kisses my cheek. “I know you want me to do this, but I can’t commit to practice with my work schedule.”
Oh yeah. Spoiled, selfish me keeps forgetting that one detail. I snuggle against his side and his hand finds mine, tucking it ag
ainst his chest. I eventually fall asleep that way and don’t wake up until the movie ends and he’s sliding out from beneath me.
I walk him to the door and he kisses my nose. “Good luck tomorrow.”
Panic stiffens me. “You’ll be there, right?”
He runs his hands over my arms. “Yes. I wouldn’t miss it. But in case I don’t see you...” he brushes his lips over mine and I lean into his embrace. Every now and then I still can’t believe that he’s here—that I’m here—that after our brief thing over Thanksgiving we’ve ended up together. His heart pounds against my chest and I pull him closer. If it weren’t for Dad clearing his throat in the hallway I might never let him leave.
We jump apart and Blake dips his head. “Sorry, sir.”
“See you tomorrow, Blake.” Dad’s voice is stern but he’s fighting a smirk.
I kiss Blake on the cheek and shove him out the door. “Bye.” I turn and face Dad, heat flaming my cheeks. “Sorry.”
“Kissing by the door I can handle. Just let me believe that’s all you’re doing.”
My mouth drops. “It is!” Well, sort of. Just kissing anyway. And maybe a little groping. But nothing else. For now.
“You should get to bed. Big day tomorrow.”
“Understatement of the year.” I head toward the stairs and he pulls me into a hug.
“You’ll be great.”
I manage to sleep despite my nerves. This anxiety is unfamiliar but I haven’t competed in so long it’s like my body forgot its routine. In the morning, Dad’s got oatmeal with a cut-up banana waiting for me, and we’re on the road while the sun’s still rising.
The parking lot is already full when we arrive. Dad stops in front of the lodge. “Go check in while I park.” I make my way to the registration table and take a deep breath. “Cally Clarke.”
The girl hands me my bib and points to the main door. “You’re in heat five. They’ll let you up during the fourth. They’re alternating skiers and boarders every two heats so you’ll be after boarders.”
“Thanks.” I move away from the table and look around for a familiar face. Evan and Austin are across the room with—ugh, cringe—Brianna and Kenzie hanging on their arms. Mike’s supposed to be here and I really hope she doesn’t see that. I’m debating whether or not to break up whatever’s going on when I’m hugged from behind by someone too short to be Blake. I spin around.
The Slope Rules Page 24