by Laura Dower
Madison and Aimee wandered over to a giant map on one side of the room. It showed all of the ski trails at Big Mountain. The highest elevation was over 4,600 feet. It was a peak called Top Dog.
“That’s high, isn’t it?” Madison said as she looked up at the mountain through giant glass windows on one side of the room. “I can’t really see the top. Is it foggy, or are those clouds?”
Aimee was too busy scoping out the other people in the room to reply to Madison’s question. She grabbed Madison by the shoulders and whispered in her ear.
“Don’t look now, but I think Hart is here,” she said.
Madison felt her stomach flip-flop. Her knees wobbled. “Where?” she squeaked. “Hart’s here?”
“Yeah, look over there…” Aimee said as she pointed across the room.
Madison looked and saw an older, bald man wearing rainbow-colored suspenders. He struggled with the knotted laces on his ice skates. His face was flushed red from trying to pull off the skates.
“That’s Hart in fifty years!” Aimee said.
“Very funny, Aim,” Madison said, her lip curling in a sneer. “I thought you meant—oh, never mind what I thought.”
Aimee smiled. “Maddie, I was only joking.”
Madison was a little mad about being duped, but she faked a laugh. “Ha-ha.”
Dad led the girls over to the information desk to sign up for their ski lessons. A big sign over the desk read: PEEWEESKI.
Madison and Aimee looked at each other and groaned. Then they saw the second sign, which read: TEENSKI. Under it, an instructor wearing huge sunglasses, a bronzy tan, and a plum-colored parka was filling out papers. He waved as people passed.
“Hello,” Aimee said, walking right over to the man.
He looked up. “Yes? May I help you?” he said. His eyes were like melted caramels. He had a thick accent. Was it Spanish?
“We’re here for lessons,” Aimee said.
The bronze-skinned man smiled wide. “Are you?” he said. “Well, I’m the instructor.”
Madison grabbed the table to steady herself. “Can we sign up for you?”
Aimee giggled. “She means, can we register for you and your lessons?”
“Certainly,” the man said. “I’m Carlos. Let me get Jennifer. She will help get you signed up.”
Madison had to grab Aimee’s wrist to keep from toppling over onto one side. Carlos was a major babe. He left them both tongue-tied.
“I am heading back to the slopes, but I see you later, yes?” Carlos said.
Neither Aimee nor Madison could stop grinning.
“Yes,” they said at exactly the same time, staring as Carlos walked away.
After Jennifer came by and took down their information, they prepared to meet Dad and Stephanie for a snack in the Big Mountain Diner. On the way, they stopped into one of the restrooms.
Madison stepped up to the sink and smiled at her reflection.
In the center of her two front teeth there was a something red. A piece of strawberry!
“Aim, how could you not tell me that I had food in my teeth?” Madison cried.
A woman in a fur-trimmed ski parka and matching boots gave Madison a funny look before walking out of the bathroom.
“I didn’t see anything in your teeth, I swear,” Aimee said.
Madison quickly picked out the bit of strawberry and sat down on a small, hard couch in the restroom waiting area.
“He must have seen it, though,” Madison said.
Aimee giggled. “So what?” she said. “He’s only the ski instructor, Maddie. Who cares?”
Madison shrugged. “I do. I care,” she said, knowing that Aimee would have cared twice as much if she’d been the one caught with food in her teeth.
As they walked off to meet Dad at the restaurant, Madison tried not to obsess about what had happened, but it was hard to ignore her gut feeling. Just when something seemed right, bad luck came along.
Even though Aimee didn’t believe in bad luck, Madison was convinced it had been following them around since the trip started.
Chapter 6
MADISON AND AIMEE STOOD crushed up against the Big Mountain chalet wall for almost an hour as they waited to rent ski stuff. When they finally reached the front of the line, a redheaded woman in a pink ski suit asked them for their shoe sizes. She looked like a model from some ski magazine, her lips covered in shining gloss as she spoke to them. In fact, as far as Madison was concerned, half the people in the ski shop looked like models.
“Okay, girls,” the pink lady said, “Do you have your parental permission slips?”
Dad and Stephanie had filled out all of the necessary paperwork so that Madison and Aimee could take lessons on their own.
“We’ll keep your boots, skis, and poles here until your beginners’ lesson this afternoon,” the woman said as she handed them a yellow ticket. “Just bring this back and you can get everything you need. And don’t forget! You’ll have to read all the regulations for the slopes, girls. You are beginners, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Aimee said. “How can you tell?”
The woman laughed. “Good luck!” she said.
“Okay, let’s see,” Aimee said, reading one of the flyers. “In order to ski, we need sunblock, apparently. And a helmet, too. I think. I can’t tell if it’s required or what. But we need sunglasses and waterproof clothes and gloves and… Maddie, I have this stuff in my suitcase. Do you?”
Madison rolled her eyes. “Of course not,” she said. “This trip is so complicated. I barely have clothes to wear away from the slopes, remember?”
“Oh, Maddie,” Aimee said, wrapping her arm around Madison’s shoulders. “You look great in whatever you wear.”
Madison wanted to burst out laughing. Luckily for them, there was a ski-shop outlet on the Big Mountain property. And Stephanie was in the mood to shop. After lunch, Stephanie and Dad treated Madison to a pair of ultracool shades (with deep purple frames and mirrored lenses), a woolen headband, and a new pair of waterproof gloves (also in purple, because nothing seemed to come in Madison’s favorite color, orange). But the best thing they bought for Madison was the perfect addition to her ski outfit—a pair of pants with a bib that fit over Madison’s shirt. Aimee was jealous.
“You look like a real skier,” Aimee said when Madison tried them on.
Madison beamed at herself in the mirror.
She really did look like a skier.
While Dad and Stephanie headed up the mountain for their own ski adventure, Madison and Aimee took their yellow tickets and went to retrieve their rented boots and skis. They needed to get ready for their two o’clock lesson.
The lessons were all held at the same place on the mountain, an area called Big Ski. As they approached on foot, Madison was nearly run over by a racing snowmobile—or at least it felt that way. Everyone was rushing to see someone or something. Aimee thought she saw lights flashing like a camera’s.
“Excuse me,” Madison asked an older gentleman standing on the sidelines in his ski goggles, with an annoyed look on his face. “What’s going on?”
“Those movie stars think they own the place,” the man said with a grunt. “Well, I was here first, I’ll tell you. Been coming to this mountain for forty-nine years.”
“Did he say movie stars?” Aimee asked. She grabbed Madison’s elbow. “What are we standing here for? Let’s go see who it is!”
Madison and Aimee scrambled across the snow and pushed their way through a throng of kids and adults. Somewhere along the way, they got separated.
“Aimee?” Madison called out. “Aimee?” By now, she could tell that the flashing lights definitely were those of paparazzi cameras. The crowd was too noisy for Aimee to hear Madison’s cries.
Ooooooooof!
Madison was knocked to the ground by a young boy hurrying in the opposite direction. He extended his hand and helped her to her feet.
“Sorry,” the boy said. “That was my fault.”
; Madison shook the snow off her butt and legs and regained her composure as best as she could. Aimee had not yet reappeared.
“Thanks,” she said, as the boy retrieved Madison’s new purple sunglasses from the snow.
“Are you okay? I really slammed into you,” the boy said with a big smile.
Madison smiled right back. She wondered what the boy’s name was.
“I’m Hugh,” the boy said, as if he’d read her mind. “Hugh Jackson.”
“Oh, hi. I’m Madison,” she said. “Madison Finn.”
Just then, Aimee caught up.
“You left me back there!” Aimee said, pretending to whine. She seemed not to notice the boy standing next to Madison. In fact, she blocked Madison’s view of the boy altogether.
“Attention!” one of the Big Mountain ski employees yelled through a bullhorn. “Your attention, please! There is no lingering on the slopes. Please make your way to a lodge or trail. Thank you for your cooperation.”
“Did you see him?” a girl screamed. “He’s way cuter than on TV!”
“Who? Who?” Aimee asked. The girl didn’t hear Aimee, so she knuckled her way into the crowd, dragging Madison along behind her. “Maddie, come on! We have to see who it is! Hurry!”
Madison looked back to smile at Hugh again, but he was gone.
They moved up past a few rows of people, and the star came into view.
“Oh, my God!” Aimee squealed. “It’s Foster Lane! He’s here! I can’t believe this. Madison, this is the greatest day of my entire life. I—can’t—breathe.”
Madison laughed. She liked Foster Lane’s looks. He was cute. He wasn’t a very good actor, though. But Aimee didn’t agree. She worshipped every little thing he did, from TV shows to music videos to some commercial for Bubblewad Gum.
Aimee’s eyes widened till they looked like pie plates, and she batted her eyelashes the way she often did to get a boy’s attention. Madison hung back a bit.
Foster, dressed in a cool blue ski suit and enormous ski goggles, waved to the crowd. He was getting ready to head over to the ski lift with his snowboard. Surrounding him was a group of friends (or were those bodyguards?); in a flash, he came and went, and once the crowd dispersed, the usual ebb and flow of activity resumed on the Big Mountain slopes.
Aimee stood there until Foster’s ski lift began its ascent.
“I guess that was lucky,” Madison said, “Seeing him here.”
“Luck had nothing whatsoever to do with it,” Aimee said. “These things just happen. I knew he’d be here. I knew it!”
Madison smiled at her BFF again. Sometimes Aimee could act so serious, and sometimes she acted downright silly. But that was what Madison liked best about Aimee. She was never afraid just to say what she was thinking. She was bold enough to run and try to shake the hand of her favorite TV star—even if she hadn’t this time.
“It’s too bad we got here late,” Madison said, watching Foster and his entourage dangle in the lift high above the slopes. Cameras flashed up into the sky.
“Missed him? Not a chance!” Aimee cried. “I predict that I will meet Foster Lane and get his autograph before this week is through,” she said.
“But you don’t know if he’ll be here for a week,” Madison said.
“Then I’ll get it sooner than that,” Aimee said, sounding ultraconfident. “I will! Don’t you believe me?”
Madison didn’t know what to think or say. When Aimee set her mind to something, she was often successful. Maybe it was a combination of always speaking her mind and batting her eyelashes. Madison wasn’t sure.
About a hundred yards away, they spotted Carlos again. He stood before a group of skiers dressed in a rainbow of ski gear. Madison and Aimee moved toward him. Their pickup and drop-off spot was toward the side.
Madison’s ski boots were a perfect fit. She felt like a real pro wearing them. But the rest of the equipment was a bit of a mystery. She looked at the bindings on her skis and wondered how she would ever lock them on to her boots and actually ski down Big Mountain. And what were the poles for? Every time she tried to poke one of them into the snow, she nearly tripped.
Aimee had trouble getting her gear on, too. But soon they were both suited up and trudging over to Carlo’s area, skis and poles in hand.
“Hello, again,” a voice said to Madison.
Madison turned to see the boy she’d just met a few moments before, Hugh. This time she stared at his face and took it all in. He had a row of freckles across his nose and cheeks. His eyes were deep green. His hair was sandy colored—at least the bangs that she saw poking out from under his bright blue hat.
Mmmm. He was cute.
“Hello to you,” Madison said, feeling a warm blush spreading across her cheeks.
“Yeah, hello,” Aimee said, leaning in. “Are you here for the ski lessons, too?”
Madison looked down at her feet, which seemed twice their normal size in the bulky ski boots. There was no running away from this. She looked back up at Hugh and did something she’d only done a few times before. She batted her eyelashes.
Hugh looked away with a grin.
Was he blushing, too, or was it the cold air that was making him turn pink?
Aimee didn’t have a chance to say anything more. Carlos clapped his hands and started the first lesson.
There were a total of eleven kids, including Madison and Aimee. The group would meet for three days, at which point, Carlos promised, every beginning skier would be able to walk in skis and to start, stop, and get on the ski lift unassisted.
“That’s it?” Aimee said, sounding disappointed.
Madison nudged her friend. “That’s more than what we know now, right?” she said. “Why do you have to say something about everything? Shhh!”
Aimee pretended to zip up her lips. And she did stop talking. But she couldn’t keep still. Off the slopes, Aimee was always in the kind of constant motion that went with being a dancer. On skis, that motion turned into a sequence of jumps and starts that made it seem as though she were having some kind of nervous fit.
Madison tried to focus on the instructor. At first she listened to all of the words he said, but then she started to dissect his face, his outfit, and his whole look. Would he make a good male model? Was he cuter than Foster Lane? Was he cuter than Hart Jones?
Maybe.
Carlos had applied a glob of white sunblock to his nose, but it didn’t look goofy at all. On Carlos, a glob of sunblock looked positively cool.
“Maddie,” Aimee said after a few minutes. “What’s up with that guy back there in the black parka?”
“Um…” Madison said, catching her breath. “Who?”
Aimee snorted. “That guy we just saw!”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Madison said.
“Maddie, you are such a bad liar,” Aimee said with a grin.
Madison let out a little laugh. “He’s cute, right?” she said.
Carlos had obviously heard the chatter. He stopped speaking and turned toward Madison and Aimee.
“Excuse me, ladies,” he said in his stilted accent. “In order to ski, you need to pay attention.”
Madison gulped. All eyes had turned toward them. Even Hugh was staring.
Aimee and Madison quickly promised to be quiet. Carlos continued with the lesson. As he spoke, Madison scanned the crowd. Everyone seemed to be listening intently. The group consisted mostly of teens, Madison noticed. She and Aimee were on the younger end of the spectrum. At least everyone was a beginner, so Madison hoped she wouldn’t stick out much.
“This is the rule,” Carlos said. He looked right at Madison. “You must be serious about your skiing if you want to be safe.”
Carlos pointed to a very big chart concerning skier etiquette. The code of rules and behavior was printed in bold black letters.
1. Always stay in control. Make sure you are able to stop or avoid other people or objects.
2. People ahead of you have the right of way
. You must avoid them.
3. Observe all posted signs and warnings. Keep off closed trails and out of closed areas.
4. Prior to using any lift, you must have the knowledge and ability to load, ride, and unload safely.
5. Respect Big Mountain. Do not litter or use bad language.
Madison glanced over at Hugh to see if he was looking in her direction, but he wasn’t. He was sliding his left boot in and out of his left ski binding.
“Maddie!” Aimee whispered. “How old do you think Carlos is?”
“Older than Ben Buckley,” Madison teased. “Like, as old as your dad, probably.”
Aimee gave Madison a playful shove. “He is not!”
“Aim, I’m twelve. You’re thirteen. Remember?”
“Sometimes I wish I were eighteen,” Aimee said with a sigh. “It seems like forever until we’re old enough to really do anything fun. Doesn’t it?”
“Eighteen? What are you talking about?” Madison said. Of course, Madison knew what Aimee meant. Lately her BFF had mentioned wanting to attend a few ninth-grade parties. Aimee sometimes wanted to go places that her older brothers went, even though her parents would never allow it.
“I’ve decided I’m going to have a double crush, on Carlos and Foster Lane, on this ski trip,” Aimee declared. “And you can crush on the black-parka guy. How does that sound?”
“Shhh!” Madison said, as if Hugh could have heard. “It sounds crazy, Aim. What about Ben?” she asked.
“I can like more than one person at once, can’t I?” Aimee said, readjusting her hat and gloves. “Of course, I still like Ben—when we’re at school. But here, things are different. This is vacation. You’re allowed to have separate vacation crushes.”
Carlos shot the girls another glare and they stopped talking for good. It was time to start paying attention if they wanted to learn anything about skiing.
Aimee thought they’d take off down the mountain right away, but an hour into the lesson, the only thing Carlos had shown them how to do was walk in their skis. Madison was proud of the fact that she’d fallen only six times and only when’d she tried to lift instead of slide. Of course, lucky Aimee hadn’t fallen at all. That impressed Carlos. He came over and complimented Aimee on her balance at least three times. Madison was counting. She wondered why she couldn’t be the teacher’s pet for once.