Live Through This

by Mindi Scott

  “It’s not okay.” Tony shakes his head. “It’s a problem. You’re letting right now ruin your chances—”

  “Nothing is ruined.” Bryan sits up straighter. “And, really, you have no clue. So do me a favor and save the tough-love speeches for your own kids.”

  Tony makes an irritated “Chhh!” sound. As he shifts to look at Mom, I take the opportunity to interrupt. “We’re on vacation, you guys! Remember?” No one responds, so I go on. “There will be plenty of time to have conversations about grades and futures and everything else after we get home. Can’t you let it go for seven days? Please?”

  Tony looks at me and then at Bryan. “We’ll talk about this later.”

  “After the trip, right?” I ask.

  “Fine,” Tony says.

  “Do you agree, Mom?” I ask.

  I can totally see Tony breaking his agreement by convincing her to do it instead. His job these days is to put together people’s wills and stuff, so he hasn’t been an actual courtroom attorney for years, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still strategize like one.

  “Yes, Nicole,” Mom says.

  I jab the top of Bryan’s leg. “And you. These snow conditions are a dream come true and you need to have some fun this week. I mean it.”

  “Fun. What’s that?”

  I flash him a big smile. “Only the best thing ever!”

  He lifts one corner of his mouth and pokes my arm. “Whatever you say, Miss Bossy Sunshine.”

  • • •

  A few minutes later, Bryan and I are sitting on the snow, clipping into our bindings alongside about a dozen other snowboarders.

  “We’ll meet you at the Big Red Express!” Mom calls to us as she and Tony ski away.

  “Gotta love the quality bonding time,” Bryan says.

  “The family that rides the lift together, stays together,” I say.

  He smirks. “Where’re we off to?”

  “Somewhere that eventually brings us to them, I suppose. I’ll follow you.”

  We push ourselves up from the ground and take off. Within seconds, he’s way ahead of me. He glides through the powder and comes to a stop in front of a trail sign with two black diamonds on it. “Ready for the fun to start?” he asks, after I’ve caught up.

  I scoot past him to glance down the hill, and my breath catches. From up here, the incline appears to be practically straight down. “If this is where fun is happening, then definitely not. I don’t do double-black runs.”

  Bryan laughs. A real laugh. He honestly thinks I’m kidding. “I’ll race you down, C. Winner gets . . . what? What’s a good prize?”

  I swallow. “Not going home in a body bag?”

  “You’re hilarious. Let’s go.”

  If anyone else were asking—anyone in the world—I’d continue on the totally doable blue runs by myself and meet at the bottom. But it isn’t anyone else. It’s Bryan, who is actually trying to have a good time. Bryan, who needs my help keeping his mind off Heather.

  I careen over the edge before he can register what’s happening; the bigger head start I can get, the better. Within seconds, I know I’ve made a huge mistake. My brain screams: slow down, slow down, slow down, but the hill is so steep and icy that I can’t even begin to catch an edge.

  Bryan quickly overtakes me. I don’t think he’s hit the slopes since Thanksgiving of last year, but if he’s feeling rusty, it’s impossible to tell. “How does that saying about cheaters go?” he calls out.

  “Bryan!”

  I have no hope of winning the race—I never did—and I’m on the verge of hyperventilating as I zigzag out of control. I dodge a waist-high tree and scrape across a patch of exposed rock. I lean this way, that way, wobble, wobble, wobble . . .

  Slam!

  I’m sliding on my butt and then I crash onto my side. I’m screaming and rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling my way down the hill.

  When the ground finally levels and my momentum halts, my heart is slamming in my chest. I pant, staring through my goggles at the sky.

  Boots crunch over the snow. Bryan drops to his knees beside me and yanks off his goggles. “Shit! Coley, are you okay? Can you get up at all?”

  I flex my arms, hands, legs, feet. “I’m not injured. If you don’t mind, though, I’m just going to lie here and die.”

  He lets out a loud breath. “Holy crap. That freaked me out. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  I prop myself up on my elbows. “I’m fine, see? Don’t worry.”

  “Look where you came down,” he asks, pointing up the hill. “I don’t know how, but you managed to hit the only straight line without obstacles. You’re going to be feeling those body slams tomorrow, but still, pretty lucky.”

  Actually, the body-slamming pain kicked in right away, but I don’t want to say so and make him feel worse about it. “And who says ‘cheaters never prosper’?” I ask, with a small smile. “We don’t ever have to do that run again, do we?”

  Bryan shakes his head roughly and takes my hands to pull me up. “No way.”

  “Okay, good.”

  • • •

  The evening Fire and Ice show at Whistler Village that night is loud music, a loud emcee, and an even louder crowd. It’s stunt snowboarders and skiers taking turns speeding down the hill and jumping through a huge, burning ring. It’s fire dancers on both sides of the run swinging flaming torches, sticks, and whips. It’s also a good enough mix of locals and out-of-towners so I don’t feel like too much of a dorky tourist.

  “All right!” the announcer yells in the mic. “These guys are working hard up there! Real hard, ladies and gentlemen. Whooooo! And give it up for a one-eighty! Yeah!”

  Bryan ditched us right when we got here, and I’m standing up front on the snow-packed ground with the rest of my family. We’re close enough to get powder sprayed through the safety blockade and the triplets are loving it. Even usually-mellow Zach has spent the past twenty or so minutes jumping around with Jacob and Emma while Mom, Tony, and I clap our gloved hands and cheer behind them.

  “You could do that!” Emma yells over her shoulder to me, pointing at two dancers with flaming hoops spinning around and around and up and down their bodies. “You’d be even better at it than they are, I bet.”

  Mom nudges my arm, smiling. “She’s right.”

  “Are you ready for this?” the announcer yells. “We’re sending the entire crew through the ring of fire for you, Whistler! Rapid-fire time! One right after the other after the other after the other!”

  For the grand finale, all the skiers and snowboarders perform their last backflips, front flips, and toe grabs while fireworks flash and boom and crackle over their heads. They line up together, facing us, as the emcee shouts all their names. We scream and clap some more.

  Then his last words: “Thank you all for coming out, Whistler! See you on the slopes tomorrow!”

  The crowd begins to break up. “Thank you all for coming oot!” Jacob says with a bow. “See you on the slopes tomoorrow!”

  “Are we ready, then?” Tony asks, loudly.

  I glance around. Bryan still hasn’t come back.

  Tony looks around too, and frowns. “Coley, where did your brother go?”

  If I know Bryan, he’s off sneaking a joint somewhere. “Bathroom?”

  Tony glares at his watch. “I thought I’d made it clear that we’re on a tight timeline.”

  “Story of our lives!” Jacob exclaims.

  For once, Jacob and I are in agreement. It’s annoying that Bryan left at the start of the show without a word to anyone, but the only reason it’s a big deal is because Tony has overscheduled us yet again.

  Mom covers a yawn with the back of her hand. “Can’t we do this sleigh ride another night?”

  “No, Dawn,” Tony says. “This is Christmastime, they’re booked solid, and I prepaid.”

  “So, if we lived here,” Emma says, “I think Coley should become a professional hula hooper of fire. And Daddy cou
ld become a ski instructor, and Mom could work at a gift shop or clothes store.”

  During all our trips, Emma plans new lives for us. In Hawaii, she decided that I should become a luau dancer. At Disney World, Rapunzel or Sleeping Beauty. In Las Vegas, a Cirque ballerina.

  Jacob chimes in. “If we lived here, us kids would get to snowboard all day and never go to school again, right?”

  “I’m not liking the sound of that,” Mom says, tugging his knitted hat lower over his ears.

  “Should someone call Bryan?” Tony asks.

  “Or!” Emma says. “What if Daddy became a sleigh driver? Then we could brush and feed and ride the horses whenever we wanted.”

  Jacob spins around with his arms outstretched. A group of five guys—probably in their thirties—takes a few steps back.

  “Those snowboarding guys were awesome,” Zach says. “I mean, the skiers, too, but I like snowboarders better.”

  “Yeah,” Jacob says. “They landed almost every jump. No big wipeouts like yours all day.”

  Zach sticks out his tongue. “Don’t you mean, like you’re going to have all week?”

  “Please,” Jacob says, with a wave of his hand. “I’m the jump freakin’ master.”

  “Language,” Mom says, with a sigh.

  “What? I said ‘freakin’ not ‘fu—’ ”

  “Jacob, we get the picture,” Tony interrupts. “Now, Coley. Your brother?”

  My turn to sigh. “Fine, I’ll call him.”

  I pull out my phone. The preview screen displays new texts that came in during the show:

  Reece: I’m playing cards. Be jealous. Be very, very . . .

  Noah: remind me 2 tell u a funny story when . . .

  Ming: Xander got me earrings! My birthstone . . .

  I can’t read the full messages or respond since Tony’s watching me, so I hit the button to dial my brother and hold the phone to my ear.

  “Let me guess,” Bryan says, without even a hello. “Tony’s losing his shit. I’ll be there in a second. Got you a consolation prize.”

  “For all my pain?”

  He’s already hung up, though. I spot him making his way across the snow toward us.

  “We’re so glad you could join us,” Tony says.

  Bryan presses a small white box into my hand. I’m too curious to wait so I kind of turn away from everyone, take off one glove, and lift the lid to peek. Inside are two stacks of Nanaimo bars with little squares of waxed paper between them.

  I give a little squeal and grin at my brother. It’s been a while since we’ve vacationed here, but he still hasn’t forgotten that these chocolaty, custardy, Canadian treats are my favorite confections on the planet.

  “What are you so excited about?” Emma asks. “What’s in there?”

  “Nanaimo bars!” I say.

  “Yum!” Emma, Jacob, and Zach yell.

  Tony scowls, probably because precious seconds are ticking away, but also, I suspect, because my brother got something just for me and gave it to me in front of the kids. And now I feel bad for bragging about it.

  I look in the box again and count. Six. Bryan doesn’t eat sugary stuff, so there’s enough for the rest of us to each have one. “Dessert,” I say, shaking the box. “Thank you for picking these up for everyone, B.”

  Mom gives him a sideways hug. “How very, very sweet. Pun intended, of course.”

  Bryan looks at me over her head and twists his lips into a those-really-weren’t-for-them-but-that’s-okay smile. “I have my rare moments, don’t I?” he asks her.

  “Yeah. Very rare,” says Jacob.

  Bryan laughs and the rest of us join in—even Tony.

  “On that note,” Mom says. “Doesn’t the schedule say it’s time for us to sing carols and get dragged around by horses in the snow?”

  “It certainly does,” Tony says, still smiling. “Shall we?”

  CHAPTER 8

  It is past eleven o’clock on Christmas night, and Emma is big-time breaking her promise to lie quiet and still.

  “What now?” I ask as she throws back the covers on her side and climbs out of bed.

  “Gotta pee!”

  For the past five nights, she’s fallen asleep almost as soon as her head’s hit the pillow, but tonight she keeps getting up, saying that she’s “thirsty,” “hungry,” or she “forgot something.” And now she’s using the bathroom excuse.

  I wait until she’s gone, then slide my phone out from under my pillow. The tiny, red light blinking in the darkness makes my heart jolt; a new text came since I checked two minutes ago.

  Reece: I need to NOT be awake right about now. Just wondering though: Have I ever told you that your beauty takes my breath away?

  Those words on my tiny, bright screen. They take my breath away.

  This all started as a game, but it feels more real every day. Reece and I haven’t actually talked while I’ve been at Whistler, but the texts he’s been sending have been getting bolder.

  Me: I have no guesses. I’m so bad at this! But thank you if you meant it. Have I ever told you that I’ve got my sights set on you and I’m ready to aim?

  The toilet flushes and water runs in the sink. With my heart racing, I hit send and push my phone back under my pillow.

  Will Reece take it seriously? Do I want him to?

  Emma bangs her way back in and collapses onto the mattress. “I think Bryan’s smoking or something. It smells weird by his door. Should we tell?”

  “Bryan’s old enough to do whatever he wants.”

  He’s been acting less depressed for the past couple of days. I’m hoping that when he’s used up his stash, he won’t buy more.

  “But smoking is bad for his health!” Emma says.

  This is how different Emma is from me. Even when I was her age, the last thing I would ever do was go out of my way to get someone into trouble. “Being kept up all night by you is bad for my health. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

  “I just . . . can’t.”

  “Because . . . ?”

  “Ummmm,” she says, dragging it out for about five seconds. “Because maybe they gave me Mountain Dew instead of Seven Up at the restaurant?”

  I make a growling sound in my throat. The triplets are so not allowed to have caffeine. “You should have said something.”

  “But I never get to drink Mountain Dew.”

  “And there’s a good reason for that. Remember when you and Jacob drank all that Dr Pepper and ended up running into each other and getting bloody noses?”

  “That was a long time ago!”

  “Not that long.” My phone’s on silent mode—not even vibrate—so I won’t know when Reece texts back until I check the screen. “I’m going to sleep. So that means, don’t talk to me anymore.”

  “Fine.” She flips over so that her back is to me.

  Pulling out my phone again, I tent the blankets over my head to hide the backlight while I check for messages. Nothing yet. I wait in text purgatory, keeping my head under the covers. Two minutes. Three minutes. Four.

  Maybe Reece went to bed. I mean, he’s leaving Kenburn to drive here in less than six hours so he does need to be asleep. But did he think my text was weird? I can’t believe that I told him I was “ready to aim.” It sounds way better in the song.

  Five minutes. The red light flashes. Finally.

  Reece: My song is by Ash, and yes, I meant it. I think you might have stumped me with your quote. :)

  I smile at the little face.

  Me: Yay! First time ever! It’s “See You Again” by Miley Cyrus and I meant it too . . . only in a nice way instead of an assassin way. :)

  Reece: Awesome! I wondered. Good night, Coley. See you soon.

  Me: Good night Reece. <3

  Feeling around on the wall for my charger, I accidentally knock a magazine off the nightstand, and it hits the floor. Emma’s body jolts and she takes a loud inhale like I’ve startled her awake. Such a faker. “Now you’re waking me up!” she says. “Who were yo
u texting? Your boyfriend?”

  I lean over the edge of the bed and plug in my phone. “That was Reece. A boy who’s my friend.”

  “But he wants to be your boyfriend instead. And you want him to be, right?”

  It’s perfectly normal that a boy might drive to Canada to stay the night with a girl and her family simply because they’re friends. I know it. But I’m sure that that is not what’s happening here. I want something more with Reece. I’m almost positive that he does too.

  I don’t answer Emma’s question. I close my eyes and take super-slow, loud breaths in and out through my nose to try to trick her into thinking I’ve drifted off.

  She doesn’t fall for it. “At dinner when Jacob called Zach a ‘pussy fart’ and Zach threw a piece of sweet-and-sour chicken at him and Mom made us all trade chairs, how come Bryan said, ‘It’s like living with chipmunks’?”

  “He said ‘The Chipmunks,’ ” I say. “Like from the cartoon and those dumb movies.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “You know how on Alvin and the Chipmunks, everyone is always yelling Alvin’s name like we’re always yelling Jacob’s? I think that’s what he meant. Plus, Jacob’s loud and gets all the attention just like Alvin, right?”

  “But Bryan didn’t say it was like living with Alvin. Does that mean he thinks Zach and me are Chipmunks, too?”

  “I don’t know, Emma. I don’t think he put a lot of thought into it. But Zach’s sarcastic and brainy, so he’s like Simon, right? And you’re like Theodore, the cute, sweet one. So it fits.”

  “I guess so. But I don’t want to be a Chipmunk with Jacob and Zach. I have to do karate and soccer because of them. And every year at school, I never get to be in my own class because they can’t get along and there’s only two teachers for every grade. I’m always stuck with one of them.”

  She switches back and forth between being Jacob’s sidekick and nemesis so much that I never realized she feels this way. “Forget I said that then. You don’t have to be Theodore.”

  She goes on as if I hadn’t spoken. “People sometimes don’t like us because of the way Jacob is. Bryan’s our brother, even, and he thinks we’re annoying.”

  “Bryan thinks the whole world is annoying.”