The True Colour of a Little White Lie

by Gabriel Bergmoser

  We would be spending two whole weeks up there, and I couldn’t be happier. School holidays in the past had been for hanging out with Pat, going away with my parents or working in the restaurant’s kitchen. Really, apart from the obvious bonus of not having to worry about school, there was nothing all that different from my day-to-day life. But holidays at the Gallagher were very different indeed.

  The mountain was like a playground, and with nobody to check up on me, every day could be a new adventure. Or, if I didn’t want it to be, it could be spent by the fire immersed in a book. Or watching movies in the Governor’s Lounge. The freedom to decide for myself what I wanted to do meant that sometimes I didn’t do anything. And sometimes those were the best days.

  I took plenty of chances to go out on the slopes. After my day of skiing with Hayley I’d seen some slight improvement to my times; not enough to be confident about the race, but enough to not be overcome with despair. Knowing I was getting better made me feel like I could relax, just a bit. Maybe enjoy myself even as I practised.

  On Wednesdays, the main run outside the Gal was open for night skiing, which I decided after my first try was my favourite thing ever. It didn’t matter that the snow was icy, or that occasionally some idiot who’d hit the slopes after a few hours in the pub almost took you out. What mattered was the black sky against the white of the snow, fringed by the misty lights of the village and surrounding lodges. I’d race through it all again and again, wind in my hair, enjoying the bracing cold, because it was worth it for that view from the top of the slope.

  Lying in my narrow bunk bed at night, I’d look through the window at the mist and the snow-covered buildings, watching the last stragglers go past, watching the mountain slowly go to sleep. And in those moments I felt warm and safe and at home, nestled in a place and a time that was all my own.

  On Friday Adele came looking for me in the staff room. I had been a bit concerned that with the holidays Juliet and Adele would come up more frequently – maybe at the same time as each other – but as their parents were working, the alternating weekend schedule remained the same, which was a relief but also meant time between Juliet’s visits was still achingly long. A bemused Charlie let her in, and she fumbled over asking in one breath if I wanted to go out on the slopes tomorrow. A little flustered, I agreed, pushing away the stab of guilt I felt when I remembered Juliet’s smiling face.

  Adele suggested we have a run at Little Doon Track. I liked her taste: it was a long run with heaps to do, even if it meant fifteen awkward minutes looking for things to talk about on the lift.

  ‘You must be … um, pretty good,’ she said when we reached the top of the run. The morning sun was bright in the blue sky and the runs were quickly filling up with excited tourists.

  I glanced at her. I hadn’t told her about the Whitt; that felt too linked to Juliet. So her comment set off alarm bells.

  ‘Why would you say that?’ I asked.

  ‘Just, well, I mean you’re up here all the time,’ she said. ‘And you live in Snow Point, so I guess I just, like, assumed you’d grown up on the mountain.’

  ‘I’m alright,’ I said, trying to push away the ugly reminder in my head that I hadn’t been so honest with Juliet. ‘I’ve never been too focused on getting good at it. I just like skiing.’

  ‘Me too,’ she said brightly. ‘Just, you know, snowboarding instead. Want to race?’

  I was getting better at biting back the dumb things I wanted to say – in this case, something about us not being five. I shrugged. ‘Sure.’

  ‘Alright.’ Adele angled her board down the slope. ‘Three, two, one —’

  She was off before the ‘go’.

  I wondered if that was cheating, then realised that time spent wondering was time not spent racing, so I dug my poles in and pushed off after her.

  It was pointless. No matter how fast I went, no matter how much I focused, no matter how much of the Star Wars soundtrack I played in my head, I couldn’t even get close to her. Before long she was a speck, then she’d vanished down the slope in what felt like seconds.

  I found her at the base of the lift, sitting in the snow, watching for me with a pleasant smile.

  ‘Don’t beat yourself up,’ she said with a mischievous grin. ‘Skiers just aren’t that fast, you know?’

  I went to retort but she was still smiling. Instead, I shook my head, laughed and helped her up. Together we got on the lift again, chatting about our favourite runs. But my good mood deflated as talk turned to school.

  ‘I’ve got an awesome group of friends,’ Adele said, before reeling off a bunch of names. ‘We’re pretty close, you know? Everyone’s got each other’s back and stuff.’

  ‘Is there anyone you don’t like?’ I asked, still marvelling at the number of names.

  ‘Not really. If people are nice to me I usually like them, and everyone’s pretty nice to me.’

  ‘Great life for some,’ I said, before I could stop myself.

  She gave me a concerned look.

  Feeling like a kid who’d complained to the teacher, I looked away. ‘I mean, like, it’s just school, you know? No big deal.’

  ‘But if people are like … upsetting you and stuff, surely your friends back you up?’

  ‘Yeah, of course,’ I said, a beat too late and a note too high-pitched. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it.’

  As we headed back to the village for lunch, I pushed away thoughts about what would happen in a week’s time when I was back in class and the Gallagher became just a weekend thing again. It was nice to feel like I had friends, and a lot less nice to be reminded that the situation was only temporary.

  I tried to keep the conversation light as we left our skis and board on a rack in the village square and headed into the largest building there: a kind of plaza that was the main meeting place for all the tourists. The open-plan floor area was already packed as we forced our way through the bustling and brightly coloured crowd to a set of stairs at the far end. There was only one good option for lunch on Mount Doon, and that was Uncle Joe’s Pizza. Despite the rundown look of the place and a dilapidated and slightly creepy chef mascot statue out the front, they made the best pizza I’d ever tasted and there was nothing as good after a morning on the slopes.

  As usual it was busy, but Adele and I were able to find a corner table and order.

  ‘I’ve never been here,’ she said. ‘Normally my parents like to eat at the lodge.’

  ‘This is cheaper and better,’ I said, even though I got free food at the Gallagher.

  Adele’s eyes moved to something over my shoulder. I followed her gaze to the wall, where a flyer for the Mount Doon cinema had been blu-tacked, advertising the new Star Wars movie.

  ‘Didn’t that come out ages ago?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, but everything takes longer to be released here,’ I said. ‘Have you seen it?’

  ‘No, I …’ Adele paused, watching me. She leaned forward. ‘Do you like Star Wars?’

  ‘Yeah, I love it,’ I said. ‘Do you?’

  Adele bit her lip. ‘Yes.’ Her voice was almost a whisper.

  ‘Why do you say it like it’s a secret?’

  ‘Because it is a secret.’

  ‘Liking Star Wars?’

  ‘Loving Star Wars.’

  ‘But everyone loves Star Wars.’

  ‘You don’t get it,’ she said. ‘My friends at school are … Well, it’s not really their thing.’

  I frowned. ‘How is Star Wars not somebody’s thing?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said miserably. ‘But my friends laugh at it.’

  ‘Then your friends are stupid,’ I said before I could stop myself. ‘Star Wars is the best.’

  Adele’s expression brightened. ‘Which one’s your favourite?’

  ‘Empire Strikes Back, obviously.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s good,’ she said. ‘But mine is Attack of the Clones.’

  I stared at her for a moment.

  ‘Did I say som
ething wrong?’ She looked uncertain.

  ‘You can’t tell anybody this,’ I said. ‘Like, ever. But Attack of the Clones is my favourite too.’

  ‘Why would that be a secret?’

  ‘Why would liking Star Wars in general be a secret?’

  ‘I’ve got a reason. What’s yours?’

  ‘Well, you’re not like … meant to think the prequels are good.’

  ‘But Attack of the Clones is good,’ Adele said, as if it was obvious.

  ‘I know. The battle of Geonosis is amazing. Although there’s a bit in the new one —’

  ‘Whoa!’ She flung up both hands. ‘Don’t spoil it.’

  ‘Why? Haven’t you seen it?’ I asked, disbelieving.

  ‘It was easy enough for the other films. I just went with Dad. But now he’s all busy and none of my friends want to go, so I don’t have anyone to go with.’

  ‘But it’s a movie,’ I said. ‘You’re literally sitting in the dark not talking for two hours. Why do you need someone else?’

  She looked a little embarrassed. ‘When you put it like that I guess it makes sense.’

  ‘Tell you what. When it comes to the Doon cinema, I’ll go see it with you.’

  Adele grinned.

  The pizzas arrived and we spent the rest of lunch talking about Star Wars. I didn’t realise a couple of hours had passed until we walked out to find that it was now late afternoon, with not that much skiing time left.

  I glanced sideways at Adele as we grabbed our stuff and headed back to the lift. She was still smiling, and I felt a funny little twist in my chest.

  ‘Do you like staying up here?’ she asked.

  ‘A lot.’

  ‘It must be awesome. I bet the staff have a great time. Mum reckons they’re all just party animals who do the season, ski, get drunk and never come back, but I don’t reckon that’s true. I saw a couple of them at the Gal last year as well.’

  Something in my stomach tightened.

  Later that night, I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t bring myself to read or look out into the snow. All I could think about was the fact that when spring came, all this would end and there was nothing I could do about it. Even if Mum and Dad came back next year – which, I realised with a jolt of sick understanding, was no sure thing – it wouldn’t be the same.

  It was as though even having the thought had broken a spell.

  I headed down the hall to Robbie’s room, listened for movement, then knocked.

  She opened the door and I was surprised to see she was dressed up, in black jeans, a leather jacket and make-up.

  ‘Hi Nelson,’ she said. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I just thought I’d … Are you going somewhere?’

  ‘Not yet. What’s happening?’

  I tried to think of a cool or relaxed way to ask her, but I had nothing. ‘Once the season’s done, do people just … not come back?’

  Robbie frowned. ‘Well, this is my first year so I can’t be sure. But if I had to guess, I’d say it depends on the person. Things change a lot in a year. Sometimes people aren’t at the same place in their lives.’

  ‘What about you? Will you come back?’

  ‘Too early to say. But I’ve had a good time so far. And the season’s a long way from over.’

  I nodded.

  ‘You worried about Adele?’ she asked. ‘You shouldn’t be. Families come back. It’s the staff who are kind of flighty.’

  ‘I’m not worried about Adele.’

  Robbie looked at me for a long time. Something in her expression changed. ‘She likes you a lot, you know?’

  ‘I like her too.’

  ‘The same way?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘Nel, look,’ Robbie said. ‘I get that this is exciting but … but there are people you don’t want to be. And there are people whose advice you shouldn’t listen to. You understand?’

  I wasn’t sure what she meant or how to reply, so I went with the first thing that came into my head. ‘Where are you going tonight?’

  She looked surprised. ‘Oh, a few of us are heading down to the Encore.’

  ‘The Encore?’ I echoed.

  ‘You know, the club in the village.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘To have fun, I guess.’

  ‘Is it … I mean, can I come?’

  Robbie laughed. ‘It’s only for adults.’

  ‘Oh. Right.’

  ‘What I said before, Nel. You should think about it, okay?’

  ‘Sure.’

  I turned and went back to my room. I couldn’t say why I felt so upset. Maybe it was the reminder that, however I felt, I wasn’t one of the staff here. Or maybe it was the fact that Adele’s words about the staff were repeating themselves over and over in my head.

  There was a knock at my door. I said nothing.

  After a moment the door opened. ‘Nelson?’ Robbie said.

  I didn’t reply.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Just tired.’

  A pause. ‘Okay. See you tomorrow, yeah?’

  I grunted a response.

  The door clicked shut, and as I lay there in the dark I felt as alone as I had the day that Pat left.

  15

  What was going on with me, Juliet and Adele had spread among some of the staff. Matt obviously already knew, and his occasional wink as I passed him in the halls made me hold my head a little higher and try to keep the grin off my face. It was an effort that became harder when Charlie asked me if my love life was going as well as it seemed, or Esther called me a ‘little player’ in the staff room. I couldn’t imagine Adele was right about the staff being so fickle. But the worry lingered.

  One afternoon I found Matt, Hayley, Ash, Charlie and Esther all gathered around the table in the staff room, cards spread out in front of them.

  Hayley waved. ‘Hey Nel, come join us!’

  I squeezed in between her and Ash as Matt set about arranging the cards.

  ‘You know how to play poker?’ Charlie asked me.

  I shook my head.

  ‘Good, let’s instil a healthy gambling habit in Nelson,’ Esther said, shooting me a heavily eyelinered wink that I couldn’t help but grin at.

  ‘Please, he’s smarter than all of us,’ Matt replied. ‘He’ll figure out how to count cards and beat us all at our own game.’

  I didn’t know what any of that meant but I laughed anyway.

  ‘Okay, so there are four main rules,’ Charlie said, sitting back on the couch. ‘One: you got to know when to hold ’em.’

  Esther groaned.

  ‘Two,’ Charlie said, ignoring her. ‘You got to know when to fold ’em. Three: know when to walk away. Four: know when to run.’

  ‘Nelson,’ Hayley said, ‘Charlie is what people call a loser. A word which here means “someone who listens to Kenny Rogers”.’

  ‘Was that a Lemony Snicket reference?’ I asked.

  ‘A what reference?’ Esther replied.

  Hayley gave me a conspiratorial thumbs up.

  ‘You forgot the main rule,’ Matt said to Charlie. ‘You never count your money when you’re sitting at the table.’

  ‘There’ll be time enough for counting when the deal is done,’ Ash finished with a smile.

  Hayley ignored them. ‘Nelson, some of us listen to cool, modern music.’

  ‘Like what?’ Charlie asked. ‘The latest drug-fried eighteen-year-old whose songs are half samples from actual musicians and half written for them by an army of songwriters?’

  Everyone laughed. Even Hayley grinned a bit.

  ‘Anyway,’ she said to me, ‘the point is, everyone around this table is cooler than Charlie.’

  ‘To be fair, that’s not hard,’ Charlie said. ‘But hey, at least I’m not reading fantasy books with bodice-ripper covers like Matt.’

  ‘Here’s a novel concept,’ Matt said. ‘We’re all losers, so we might as well stop worrying about it and enjoy ourselves.’

  �
�Spoken like a true loser,’ Esther said.

  There was another round of laughter, that cut off very suddenly. I turned to see what had stopped them. Dad was standing in the doorway, looking at the cards with a slightly furrowed brow.

  ‘Ah, sorry, Chef,’ Charlie said. ‘Just um, a quick game between shifts.’

  ‘Are you gambling?’ Dad asked.

  Nobody spoke.

  ‘Dad,’ I said.

  He cut me off. ‘Are you gambling?’

  ‘No,’ Matt said. ‘Just a bit of fun. Sorry, Chef. We weren’t actually teaching Nelson anything.’

  ‘They weren’t,’ I said, hoping nobody would notice the flush creeping up my cheeks.

  Dad looked between them all, then back to the cards. ‘Pack them up,’ he said. ‘You all start work soon.’

  With that he was gone.

  The cards were put away in silence.

  The good thing about life at the Gallagher was that things never really slowed down. As the routine continued, it was easy enough to ignore the things that bothered me. What was less easy to ignore was a post on the Gal’s message board announcing that the qualifying runs for the Whitt would be happening on the last day of the school holidays. I was surprised by my reaction. I’d been pretty sure that I’d find a way to get out of it, but maybe I’d somehow reached a point where I thought I could actually pull it off. It wasn’t like I was absolutely killing it or anything, but my times had improved. I could polish off Little Doon in under four minutes, the Summit in thirty seconds, and the Family Spur – the boomerang-shaped run on the far side of the mountain where the qualifiers would be held – in a very respectable two and a half minutes. I doubted those times were much less than average, but being at all less than average times gave me enough of an advantage to hope for the best even if I still expected the worst with every day creeping closer and closer to the deciding moment.