by Laura Dower
Crash.
The two friends fell on top of each other.
Everyone in the group started to laugh.
Madison and Aimee were a twisted clump of skis, poles, and snow. Carlos ran over to untangle them.
“Well, that was graceful,” Aimee said, as Carlos helped her to her feet.
“It happens to everyone,” Carlos said, loud enough for the rest of the group to hear. “This is why we must be so careful on the slopes. Yes?”
“I don’t understand why we have to do all these exercises,” Aimee said. “Wouldn’t it just be easier to ski down a hill?”
Carlos shook his head. “Oh, no,” he said. “You must practice before you become the safe skier.”
He helped Madison to her feet, too. “You okay?” Carlos asked.
Madison nodded, even though her face, which had been pushed into the snow, felt like a slushy drink from Freeze Palace back home. She was happy to be wearing the toasty new ski pants that Stephanie had bought for her.
Hugh came over. “Are you two okay?” he asked Madison and Aimee. “I wish I had caught that one on video.”
Aimee shrugged. “We’re fine, I guess, if embarrassing yourself completely is considered okay. I mean, look at us. We look like snowballs…”
Madison grinned. “We really are fine,” she said sweetly.
“I think we should just ski down the hill,” Aimee said, looking off into the distance. “Aren’t those your friends over there?” she asked.
Hugh glanced over to where Aimee was pointing. On a small slope off to the side, his three friends were lining up and trying out new moves on their skis.
“Yeah, those are my friends, but they’re really, really good skiers,” Hugh said. “Wick has been skiing since he was three or something.”
“How hard can it be to do what they’re doing?” Aimee asked. “I’m a dancer. I bet I could do that.”
Madison nudged Aimee and Hugh. “We’d better go line up. Carlos wants us over there.”
“Attention, everyone!” Carlos called.
The lesson was half over for the day. Carlos gathered everyone together and explained about a special Peeweeski and Teenski demonstration for parents. The instructors wanted to join together and host the presentation in a few days. Everyone in Teenski would ski with a partner.
“It’s a very, very good way to practice if you have a ski buddy. Everyone stays a lot safer. It really helps when we start using the ski lift,” Carlos said. “So, here’s what we do.”
He pointed to every other person lined up in front of him.
“Turn to the person on your right. He or she will be your lucky partner,” Carlos said.
Aimee gasped. She was standing to the right of Beth, not Madison.
But Madison grinned. Hugh was on her right.
So, Hugh is Mr. Right, after all, Madison thought, her stomach flip-flopping as it always did. Her mind raced with thoughts of participating in the demo and getting a giant round of applause from all of the spectators. After that, Hugh would tell Madison that she was the best skier he had ever met. Then he would say how much he wished he could see her again—back home in Far Hills. He would ask Madison for her phone number or at least her e-mail address and then…
“Maddie,” Aimee elbowed Madison in the side. “Why didn’t you ask to switch partners?”
Madison looked over at Hugh. “I don’t know,” she said, even though she knew very well why she’d stuck with Mr. Right.
Aimee was red in the face. At first, Madison wasn’t sure if it was the wet and cold or if Aimee was truly upset. Then she knew. Aimee turned around on her skis and moved away.
“I guess I’ll go find my other partner, then,” Aimee said, sounding disappointed. She slid slowly over toward Carlos, who was speaking to Beth and another pair of skiers.
“Your friend looks bummed,” Hugh said. “You should ski with her.”
“I do everything with her,” Madison blurted. “I would rather ski with you.” Had she really just said that? She almost felt as if she were baring her soul—and perhaps betraying her friend, just a little. But she stuck with Hugh.
They wobbled around on their skis a bit, practicing the wedge and trying to ski short distances on one ski for balance. They talked about school, home, and pets. Hugh owned Trix, the cat that was staying with the hotel pet-sitter.
Carlos made the rounds, checking in on his beginning skiers as everyone practiced and fell down and practiced and fell down some more.
After about fifteen minutes, Madison heard Carlos yell.
“No! No!” he cried. “Stop!”
Carlos started to chase after something—or someone—Madison couldn’t tell. All of the kids in the lesson group slid after him. Madison and Hugh slid along, too.
Madison craned her neck to see what was going on.
Hugh saw right away. “It’s your friend,” he said. “She’s skiing on the other slope.”
“What?” she cried. But then she saw, too. Aimee had skipped over to the other slope. She was at the top of a fairly steep incline. A cluster of younger kids were skiing the same minislope.
Aimee didn’t turn around, even though she must have heard Carlos calling after her. Didn’t she hear the rest of the Teenski group yelling, “Stop! Stop!”?
Obviously not.
Instead of stopping, Aimee leaned into her skis like a real pro skier and started down the slope. Right after she’d begun, she picked up a lot of speed, and she narrowly missed colliding with a little boy in a yellow jacket; then she veered off to the side, and…
Madison’s eyes grew wide as she watched her friend skid into a turn and tumble down a few yards, skis flying into the air along with a flurry of powder. It looked like an outtake from Funny Home Videos, a cable TV show. Only no one was laughing.
Aimee didn’t seem to be moving.
The other little kids who had been skiing around the same area scooted over to see what had happened. Carlos got there at about the same time.
“Aimee!” Carlos cried as he removed his own skis and knelt down by her side. “Don’t move, okay?”
Madison and Hugh made their way over to the scene of the accident.
Aimee’s eyes were open, but she wasn’t moving.
Madison’s heart was thumping. She almost slammed into someone herself as she moved to get closer to her BFF.
“Aimee?” Madison said. “Aimee, say something.”
By then, the Big Mountain ski patrol had been informed of the accident. A man and woman, both wearing black-and-red parkas, came over with a transport toboggan. Everyone else was ordered to move out of the way.
“Where are they taking her?” Madison asked.
“They will take Aimee to the bottom of the hill and get her to a doctor,” Carlos explained.
Madison’s words caught in her throat. She choked back a sob. “Oh, my… no… this can’t be happening. Aimee!”
The ski patrollers leaned in closer to Aimee and started to get her ready for the descent.
“She’ll be okay,” Hugh said. “It didn’t look like too bad a fall.”
But Madison didn’t really hear what Hugh was saying. She didn’t hear any of the commotion around her on the hill, either.
All Madison knew was that she was staring at Aimee right now.
And her best friend wouldn’t even look at her.
This was the worst kind of luck ever.
Chapter 10
THE SKI PATROL LOADED Aimee onto the toboggan while everyone stood whispering and pointing.
By now, a small crowd of people other than the Teenski group had gathered to watch what was going on. It reminded Madison of a highly charged episode of some TV drama. She half expected a chopper to swoop down out of the sky or some SWAT team to take position.
Carlos paced in the snow.
“I have to tell my dad and stepmom what happened,” Madison said to Carlos. “I want to talk to Aimee.”
“We are now trying to get in touch with your parents,” C
arlos explained. “Whenever there is a medical emergency, you find the adult who signed the permission form. She’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
Don’t worry? It was too late for that.
Carlos led Madison over to Peter, a member of the ski patrol who’d just arrived on a snowmobile. He told Madison to put on a helmet and climb aboard. Peter would take Madison down the mountain and deliver her to her parents and Aimee. There, doctors would examine Aimee and then take her to the hospital emergency room if she had any serious injuries.
Madison waved a solemn good-bye to Hugh, tugged the silver helmet on over her ski hat, and climbed on to the snowmobile. Now it really did feel like a scene from a movie.
“Hold on!” Peter said in a gruff voice. Madison closed her eyes and imagined every action-movie hero she’d ever loved revving up a motorcycle or powering up a speedboat. She was off in the pursuit of danger… hot on the trail of a sinister spy… ready for anything…
Whooooooooa!
The snowmobile lurched a little, and Madison snapped back to reality. She wrapped her arms around Peter’s midsection and clung to him as the snowmobile slowly (not at movie-style, breakneck speed) wove past obstacles and down the mountain.
Although they were driving toward Aimee, Madison’s thoughts began to drift even more as they motored along. The air felt colder than cold; yet the sun was stronger and hotter than ever. Wind pounded her from all sides. Everything they passed was a blur of snow and color.
Peter stopped the snowmobile near an unmarked low stone building. Inside were a few of Big Mountain’s medical personnel.
By the time Madison had wandered inside, Aimee had already been placed on the examining table. Madison caught her breath when she saw her BFF lying there as still a mummy.
But then Aimee’s eyes moved. They locked onto Madison’s.
“What happened?” Aimee asked weakly. “I feel so dizzy.”
A doctor leaned over and shone a penlight into Aimee’s eyes. “Well, my dear,” the doctor said. “You have a slight concussion, and I’m afraid you may have a broken bone—or maybe just a sprain. We’ll need to shoot you over to the hospital for a few X-rays and tests.”
Aimee frowned. “Broken bone? Where? I can’t have anything broken…” her voice trailed off.
Madison approached the table and leaned into Aimee as much as she could. “I’m so glad you’re all right,” Madison whispered.
Aimee’s face scrunched up. Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Maddie, I’m scared. What’s happening?”
“You fell on the mountain,” Madison said. “You skied away from the group, and you fell.”
“I don’t remember,” Aimee said. She choked on the words. “Oh, I do remember now. I wanted to ski for real. I thought it would be easy…”
The doctor came back over to Aimee and wrapped a blood-pressure cuff around her arm.
“Blood pressure is a little low,” the doctor said. “But that’s okay. We’ll get you a place to rest so you can be calm before some of the other tests. And I might get you an IV drip, just to make sure you’re hydrated.”
Madison was shaking. It all felt so serious, being in this room with a real doctor and the big, hulking ski patroller. She wished she could think of something to make Aimee feel better.
“Maddie, don’t leave me,” Aimee called out. When she moved her arm, she yelled in pain. The doctor rushed over.
“You need to keep still,” he warned Aimee. “I am pretty sure you sprained your wrist. But we need X-rays to make sure there are no broken bones here or anywhere else. We’ll stabilize that arm as soon as possible.”
Just then, Dad and Stephanie came rushing into the room.
“Aimee!” Dad cried when he saw Aimee lying on a stretcher. “What happened?”
Everyone rushed to fill Dad in on the accident. Stephanie stood by Aimee, stroking the top of her head, trying to get her to breathe slowly and close her eyes.
They had to wait a few minutes before the ambulance came to take them all to the hospital for the tests.
“It all happened so fast, Dad. Aimee was just skiing and then—” Madison grabbed Dad’s hand and squeezed. “I’ve never seen Aimee so scared.”
“The doctor tells me she has a mild concussion from the fall. He thinks she must have conked her head on something, like a rock or maybe a piece of someone else’s ski equipment. And her wrist is probably sprained. But other than that, I think she’s all right. When we got the news we were headed onto a ski lift back up the mountain. We got off just in time and raced right over here.”
Madison glanced over at Aimee. Her eyes were still wet with tears.
“We’ll call your parents right away, Aimee,” Stephanie said, always the voice of reason. She took out her cell phone.
“Can I talk to them?” Aimee mumbled.
Stephanie nodded. “Let me just tell your mom what happened, and then I will put you on the phone.”
Aimee rolled her eyes and let out a huge sigh. “My dad and mom are going to spaz out when they hear about this. They told me to be extra careful, and now look at me.”
Madison leaned into Aimee. “You’ll be okay, Aim,” she cooed.
Aimee reached for Madison’s hand with her one good arm. She kept the weak wrist at her side.
“Maddie?” Aimee said in a soft voice. “What am I going to do? If I hurt myself it means I can’t do that ballet performance when we get back to Far Hills. My teacher will be so disappointed. She’s counting on me for two solos. I practiced all through the fall for that. What am I going to do?”
“Maybe your wrist will be fine,” Madison said.
Aimee tried to move the wrist but then yelped in pain.
“I don’t think so,” Aimee said.
Stephanie had left the room to try contacting Aimee’s parents, but neither Mr. nor Mrs. Gillespie was at home. Not one of Aimee’s brothers answered the phone, either. The line at the Cyber Cafe was busy.
“Where is everyone?” Aimee moaned. She sobbed again. “Where’s my mom? Where are my dumb brothers?” she asked.
Stephanie gave Aimee a kiss on the head. “Shhh,” Stephanie said. “Don’t get all worked up. We’ll try your mom and dad when we get to the hospital, okay? They’ll make you feel better.”
Finally, the doctor put through official orders for Aimee to be driven to the local hospital for emergency X-rays. He predicted that she would have to get a soft cast on her wrist. Dad, Stephanie, and Madison piled into a monster truck along with a representative from Big Mountain.
The hospital was brand new, and everyone moved fast, as if they were gliding on ice skates. The floors were marble and the walls were covered with photographs of great skiers and ski trails.
Aimee’s spirits seemed to lift a little bit once she got settled into a room. It was an hour before a Dr. Sangee arrived, wearing thick black glasses and a turban. He wheeled Aimee into a side room off the main corridor of the emergency area. Madison followed.
“Hello to you both,” the doctor said, smiling broadly. He pressed a few X-rays up onto light boxes mounted on the side wall of the room. “So, Miss Gillespie,” he said, pointing to an X-ray, “all seems clear. You see this thin line here? No problem. You see this gray spot here? No problem.”
Aimee broke into a wide smile.
“But,” Dr. Sangee continued, “I am afraid you have a bad sprain. We can fix this and help you with the pain, but you won’t be able to use the wrist for a while.”
“How long is a while?” Aimee asked.
“Four weeks, at least,” Dr. Sangee said.
He quickly but gently pressed Aimee’s arm in a few places, asked her a few more questions, and walked back out of the room.
“This isn’t happening,” Aimee said aloud. “This isn’t happening to me.”
“You’ll be okay,” Madison said.
Aimee turned away. Was she crying again?
Dr. Sangee returned with the material he needed to wrap Aimee’s wrist and place a soft cast
on the injury.
“When will my wrist be normal again?” Aimee asked. “I have to dance in a recital back home next week. Can’t I put on a harder cast and do that?”
“Absolutely not—no activity,” Doctor Sangee said. “No exceptions.”
Madison could almost hear the wheels spinning in Aimee’s head: sure, I’ll agree to whatever you say if you just get me out of here. Aimee’s look of terror at the words four weeks had now turned to a look of sadness. Madison took that as her cue. She reached for Aimee’s good hand.
But Aimee pushed Madison away. “Leave me alone,” she said abruptly.
Madison refused to give up that easily. She reached for the same hand again. “Aim, I just want to help you—”
“Maddie, please stop,” Aimee said. “It doesn’t matter what you say. This is the worst possible thing that could have happened.”
There was a leather chair in a corner of the examination room. Madison walked over and collapsed into it. She could think of a few things that were worse.
“What if you had broken your leg?” Madison asked. “That would be worse than this, right? Or what if you had cut your head open or something really awful? What if you’d skied off the mountain? That would be worse.”
Aimee stared off in the opposite direction. She didn’t appear to be listening. Or, Madison considered, it might have been the concussion. Aimee’s eyes had a glazed-over look about them.
Stephanie barged into the room. “Okay!” she announced. “I’ve got Mrs. Gillespie on the telephone.” She handed the cell phone to Aimee. “They have rules against using these things in here, but we got permission. Go ahead and talk as long as you want.”
Stephanie went over to Madison. “Why don’t we give Aimee a little privacy?” she suggested.
Madison was glad to leave. Aimee wasn’t really listening to her anymore, anyway. She and Stephanie went out, leaving Aimee alone in the room with the phone.
As Stephanie and Madison walked back toward the waiting area, Madison spotted Dad reading a newspaper.
“How is she?” Dad asked Madison.
Madison shrugged. “Grouchy,” she said. “I was trying to be nice, but she didn’t really want my help.”