The True Colour of a Little White Lie

by Gabriel Bergmoser

  I took out my phone and set a timer. I planted my poles in the snow and locked my eyes on the endless fog ahead. I imagined the booming voice of an announcer: And now, star skier and A-grade thinker Nelson here to show the rest of us what good skiing is. Three, two, one – go!

  I dug my poles in and pushed off. With the run mostly empty, I didn’t need to worry about other people up here. I kept the tips of my skis angled directly down, tucked my poles under my arms and crouched. Apparently, the lower you got the faster you went or something, but I’d never paid enough attention to know if that was actually true.

  Within seconds I was hurtling along at a speed that meant if I hit a jump or a rock, a broken leg might happen after all. The trees off to the side only appeared for barely a second now before they were gone. Instinct told me to slow down. I ignored instinct.

  I saw a brief rise in the snow and jerked to the side. My speed flagged, just slightly. I lowered my poles and tried to push myself along to pick it up again.

  I shot past the small slope-side kiosk that was almost never open, then pulled a sharp parallel turn to get around the first corner. Poles down and pushing again, I passed a struggling shape in practically neon gear, and then they were yelling behind me. That was probably a good sign for my speed.

  Pushing away all thought of slowing, I took the next turn. Dark shapes loomed out of the snow ahead. The bottom of the lift.

  I went over a tiny mogul that became a decent little jump, and slammed my skis to the side as I landed … too hard. I hit the ground and slid along, quickly coated with the snow thrown up by my attempt at a badass stop.

  Glancing around, hoping nobody had seen, I stood, pulled my phone from my pocket and stopped the timer: 4:52.

  I swore and replaced it in my pocket, then skied towards the base of the lift. On this chair I’d have a good fifteen minutes to plan my next attack. Qualifying heats for the Whitt were still a few weeks away.

  Matt had mentioned to me that he avoided going out skiing with Hayley because he always ended up embarrassed. It turned out that Hayley had been coming up the mountain for years and had won a couple of races back in the day. So I sought her out and, awkwardly mumbling my way through the question, asked if she could help me get better.

  To access most of the runs meant riding two long chairlifts all the way up to near the summit. Hayley hummed to herself, swinging her legs as she looked down at the still close to pristine snow.

  ‘I prefer the mornings,’ she said.

  ‘Fewer people to see you screw up,’ I replied.

  She glanced at me. ‘That’s a pretty pessimistic outlook for somebody doing a race.’

  ‘Gotta qualify first.’

  ‘Also pessimistic.’

  ‘Or just realistic.’

  She smiled. ‘If you really thought that, you wouldn’t be asking me to help you.’

  I didn’t have a reply for that.

  ‘Do you want to do the race?’ she asked.

  ‘I dunno. I mean, Dad’s really set on it. And …’

  ‘And?’

  I glanced at her, then back at the misty slopes. ‘And I sort of accidentally, stupidly told this girl I was going to do it and that I’m like a really good skier or whatever.’

  Hayley didn’t reply straight away. I looked back at her, worried I’d said something wrong. She was watching me with a considered expression.

  ‘I can only speak for myself,’ she said, ‘but as a girl, I don’t like liars, Nelson. And I don’t really think that’s exclusive to me. Nine times out of ten we’ll take the embarrassing truth better than any lie.’

  ‘What about the one time out of ten?’ I asked, trying not to sound hopeful.

  ‘Depends on how lucky you think you are.’

  ‘Not very,’ I said gloomily. ‘I didn’t mean to lie. I just … I dunno. She asked what I wanted to be and I panicked.’

  ‘Look,’ Hayley said, ‘for future reference, you just need to relax. Even when you think you can’t. There’s nothing less attractive than a nervous wreck.’

  ‘In that case there’s nothing less attractive than me.’

  ‘Nelson.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You know that’s not true. So why are you saying it?’

  I just shrugged, privately glad that we’d reached the top of the lift.

  ‘Okay.’ Hayley skied around in front of me, spinning so that the backs of her skis pointed down the slope. Somehow she didn’t careen off, out of control. ‘Have you ever done a race before?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Right. One sec.’

  She dug her poles into the snow and pushed off towards the trees. In moments she had vanished. I watched after her, a little confused. A couple of minutes later she was back, with an armful of twigs.

  ‘What are they for?’ I asked.

  ‘A ski race is like a really ordinary obstacle course,’ she said. ‘Especially the Whitt; they never do anything exciting with it. Basically, it’s a bunch of flags placed in a zigzag formation. You have to ski around them. The key is to get as close to them as you can, keep your turns tight, and not lose any speed.’

  That sounded pretty complicated for a ‘key’.

  Hayley held up a couple of the twigs. ‘These are going to be our flags. I’ll ski down ahead and plant them in roughly the same formation as a race would have them. Then, you do your best to ski around them. Make sense?’

  I nodded, and Hayley took off, veering occasionally to place a stick before she vanished into the fog.

  I focused on the first twig and imagined it was a flag. Close, tight, fast. I could do that. I tried to work out the trajectory in my head, and realised I should have paid more attention in trigonometry, or whatever the maths was that taught you about distances and angles and stuff. I racked my brain to think of anything that would help. Then I realised at least a minute had passed and Hayley would be waiting, so I took off.

  I barely missed the first twig.

  Passing the second, I overcorrected and swept almost a metre around it.

  The third I took clean out.

  The fourth I passed pretty closely.

  The fifth, too far.

  The sixth, the same.

  By the time I reached the bottom, I was ready to leave the mountain and never trouble Juliet with my presence again.

  I didn’t want to meet Hayley’s eyes. She seemed to be focusing on the makeshift course.

  ‘I could be wrong about this,’ she said. ‘But I reckon you might be overthinking it. Skiing isn’t like other sports. Running, swimming, whatever – your conditions are basically gonna be the same. I mean, unless it rains or something. But in skiing you can’t really anticipate the terrain. They try to groom it and stuff, but there’s only so much you can do. Might be an exposed rock, or even a stick. Might be an icy patch or something. And then there’s the snow – it could be fluffy or slushy or perfect. You just don’t know.’

  ‘That makes it sound like something I should be overthinking,’ I said.

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ she replied. ‘Because there’s no point planning for an outcome you can’t anticipate. Skiing is more about you than the conditions. You need to know that you can be ready for everything. That you can handle the rough patches and roll with the punches. It’s not about planning, it’s about being in control.’

  I wondered if Hayley thought that made it sound easier.

  She grinned. ‘No stress. We’ve got all day to get it right. Let’s try again.’

  9

  With the lodge getting busier, the suite my family had been staying in had to be given over to customers, meaning we were now in the staff accommodation out the back. This was, in terms of luxury, a big step down. The walls were coated in peeling green paint, there was a slightly musty smell in the air, and the tiny rooms each only had enough space for one narrow bunk bed. But the brilliant thing about this was that I had a room to myself. I slept on the top bunk, and the bottom bunk was for my bag,
books and clothes. Even though there was no heater and the mattress was far less comfortable than in the other room, having my own space made it all worth it.

  However, it wasn’t a space you necessarily wanted to hang out in for too long, which meant I was spending more time in the rest of the lodge.

  Saturday nights were busy at the Gal and that meant there often wasn’t anyone around to talk to. There were only so many hours I could spend in the front office distracting Robbie, which basically left me spending my time in the games room or the Governor’s Lounge. Not that I really minded. Despite not quite understanding the ending I had finished and loved Red Dragon, which of course had catapulted me straight into The Silence of the Lambs. So I settled in on a couch in the Governor’s Lounge and dug in.

  It took me about two pages to realise I wasn’t alone.

  Somebody was really taking their time going through the DVD collection over by the TV; a collection I had long since explored and decided didn’t have much worthwhile. I looked over the top of my book, ready to give them the heads-up, then realised that someone was a girl. She was wearing a green turtleneck and ski pants, and had long blonde hair.

  She glanced at me, our eyes met, and I could have sworn a very slight blush crept up her very pretty face.

  ‘Hi,’ I said.

  ‘Hi,’ she replied. ‘I’m Adele.’

  ‘I’m Nelson.’ I put my book down.

  For a few seconds we just looked at each other. I shifted in my seat. ‘Um … here for the winter?’

  ‘Just the weekend,’ she replied. ‘Well, this one and a few others. I was here on opening weekend and, um, saw you. And yeah … But I thought you might be one of the staff so …’

  ‘I’m not,’ I said. ‘I mean, well, kind of. My parents work here and I’m just tagging along. Also I’m fourteen, so like, there’s that.’

  ‘Oh, cool!’ She grinned. ‘Me too.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ I said, then wondered why the hell I’d said it.

  ‘I just thought … everyone here is either old or a little kid and … and it’s nice to have someone my own age around.’ Her speech seemed to be getting faster. ‘To talk to, you know? I mean, not that, like, you have to talk to me or anything. You don’t. It’s okay if not and … Oh man, I’m probably really bothering you, aren’t I?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ I said. ‘No, it’s … it’s good to have someone to talk to. I was only reading because … because there wasn’t anyone around and …’

  Why was she so flustered? And why was that making me flustered? Apparently my confidence with Juliet wasn’t a lasting thing. I tried to remind myself that Adele also knew nothing about me, which meant I had no reason to worry about what she thought of me. No reason at all. Besides, I liked Juliet, so that was that.

  Yep. That was that.

  I smiled. ‘You ski a lot?’

  ‘Snowboard,’ she said.

  ‘That’s a shame.’

  Her face fell. ‘Why?’

  Damn it. Why did I have to try and be funny?

  ‘Just joking,’ I said quickly. ‘I ski. Where are you from?’

  ‘Melbourne,’ she said. ‘You?’

  ‘Snow Point.’ I tried not to sound embarrassed by the fact.

  Adele’s eyes went wide. ‘I’m so jealous! It’s such a pretty town.’

  Was it? I shrugged in reply.

  ‘Plus you must get to come up here all the time,’ Adele said. ‘We only come up every two weeks. Which is awesome, don’t get me wrong, but I’d never leave the mountain if I had the choice. It’s my favourite place in the world.’

  I don’t think I’d ever heard anyone refer to anywhere as their favourite place. Not without a heavy dose of sarcasm. Or not before someone teasing them relentlessly. But I couldn’t detect any sarcasm and I didn’t want to tease her so I just nodded and tried to think of something clever to say. ‘Tell me about yourself,’ is what I landed on.

  ‘Well I guess you know the main stuff. Where I’m from, why I’m here. Outside of that …’ She gestured vaguely. ‘I guess I’m really into, like, books and things.’ She was blushing again. ‘That sounded dumb. Sorry. I promise I’m not dumb. Not that I’m saying I’m super smart or anything, but —’

  ‘What kind of books?’ I asked, more to save her than anything else.

  ‘All of them,’ she said. ‘Well, most of them. Not like, romance. Fantasy is great. And like, darker things too.’

  ‘Horror?’

  ‘Sometimes. But it’s definitely not my favourite. I dunno, I guess I just think you have to read a lot if you want to be good at writing.’

  ‘Do you want to be good at writing?’

  She nodded. ‘I know that it’s really hard to get published and everything, but yeah. That’s what I want to do. Be an author, I guess. But really I’d settle for anything writing related.’ Her smile was shy. ‘Probably makes me sound super weird, right?’

  ‘Not at all,’ I said. ‘Really not at all. I’m the same. Well not, not exactly but something creative would be amazing. Like a director. Or screenwriter or … I dunno. Now I think I sound weird.’

  I also realised with an uncomfortable twinge that as easy as talking to Juliet had been, that was one thing I’d struggled to tell her.

  ‘Well, I guess you’re only as weird as I am,’ Adele said. ‘Is that okay?’

  I nodded. ‘Yeah. I think it is.’

  First times have a weird side effect that nobody warns you about. You can dream of a certain day coming, you can suspect it never will, and you can jump for joy when it finally does. But once it’s happened it’s happened, and you don’t get that feeling again.

  Last week, for the first time in my life, I’d found myself spending time with a pretty girl I really liked, who, it seemed, might have felt the same way, or at least preferred my company to loneliness. Now, just one week later, the same thing was happening again. And yet, where last week I had felt electric excitement and a thrill of glorious possibility, this week I just felt kind of confused. With every awkward word I said to Adele came this strange twinge in my stomach; something that I couldn’t place because I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt it before.

  ‘Why feel guilty, man?’ Matt said later that night, as we sat on the stairs out the back of the staff wing. Matt was smoking and together we were watching the drunk skiers heading up the winding road behind the Gal. ‘This is great. You should be excited.’

  ‘Yeah, but …’ I tried to find the words. ‘I like Juliet … like, a lot. But then I spent tonight talking to Adele, who is really cute and cool and interesting.’

  ‘Okay, let me explain something to you here,’ Matt said. ‘And don’t think I’m being patronising, cos I’m not. You’re not married to either of these girls, okay? You just met them both. You probably aren’t going to get married to either of them.’

  I felt like protesting, but I also felt like that would be stupid, so I said nothing.

  ‘How many kids at your school are in this situation?’ Matt went on. ‘Two gorgeous girls all to yourself up on the mountain, only coming up on alternate weekends to each other? You are bloody lucky, mate. But if that doesn’t make you feel any better, look at it this way: you don’t even know if either of them is really into you yet, so any guilt is premature. So is, honestly, assuming one of them will be into you. My advice? For now, enjoy the ride, see where it goes. And when the time comes and you know how you feel, then make your choice. But first you need to be sure there’s a choice to be made.’

  Matt had a point, even if I didn’t like the fact. It was easy to get swept up in what I thought I felt and how I’d thought Juliet felt about me last week, but I’d also been sure that Madison and I were on the same page. That particular mistake was still too fresh in my memory to want to risk another one.

  Really, looking at it that way gave me a bit of a get-out-of-jail-free card if I wanted to keep talking to Adele. But lying in bed that night, I found my thoughts returning to Juliet, as they had done e
very day since I last saw her.

  The next morning, after breakfast, I ducked into the front desk area to say hi to Robbie.

  ‘Morning, Nelson.’ She stopped typing and swivelled in her chair. ‘Heading out there today?’

  ‘I think so, yeah,’ I said. ‘Bit of reading first maybe.’

  ‘How you going with the good doctor?’ Robbie asked.

  ‘I think – no, I know these are the best books I’ve ever read.’

  Robbie raised both eyebrows. ‘Okay. That’s a massive call. Why?’

  I wasn’t sure I knew the answer. Not fully, anyway. But I had an idea. ‘I think it’s just Hannibal. It’s hard not to love him.’

  ‘That’s a deeply weird thing to say about a murdering cannibal.’

  ‘Yeah, but …’ I struggled to think of a way to explain it. ‘Like, obviously that part’s not … great. But he’s always got a plan. He always kind of knows what he’s doing. He’s smarter than everyone else and … and besides, he only eats the rude.’

  ‘Well, the rude are people too. By the way,’ Robbie leaned forward conspiratorially, ‘did you meet Adele last night by any chance?’

  ‘I did,’ I said warily. ‘Why?’

  ‘I spoke to her this morning. Her parents are on the board of the Gal, so they dropped in to see how everything’s going before going out on the slopes. Anyway, she seems lovely.’

  ‘She is lovely,’ I agreed.

  Robbie smiled. ‘Sometimes you just get a vibe about people, you know? Anyway, I thought I’d introduce you if you hadn’t already met. She seems like an absolute sweetheart, and clever to boot! She was talking about her writing – did she fill you in on that?’

  She had. But as I gave vague, noncommittal answers I couldn’t help thinking, a little sulkily, that Robbie hadn’t said anything like this about Juliet.