“Crying would make them bolt, for sure,” said Notch. “But it’s not my thing.”
“Especially in front of guys,” said Sparky.
“They’d laugh...and I would too,” smiled Notch.
So Notch and Sparky decided to try, “Thanks for asking, but it’s a national security matter. We simply cannot talk about it.”
That afternoon, they tried their new story.
CHAPTER 62
Pssst!
DURING THE LAST CLASS, Sparky sent a text.
The national security line works, but I’m tired of repeating it. Let’s go boarding.
Neff responded.
The teary, too trying, line works too. But running out of tears. Let’s go.
Sandy.
Me too.
Notch replied.
Works for me.
Later, as they scootered their boards up to the pick up line, the chairlift attendant said, “Don’t get lost.”
“Lost?” said Notch. “Impossible!”
They headed toward Snake. But before reaching it, they dropped into a stand of thick evergreens. From there, they swung a hard right and pushed through a thicket of bushes to a secluded glade.
“Secret stash number two,” said Sparky.
He wove down through the glade, veering toward Snake. The others followed one by one. Sparky popped out at the bend, where he and his friends had first gone into the out-of-bounds. He went across Snake, turned his back to the out of bounds woods and waited.
“Pssst.”
It came from behind him.
“Who’s that?” he blurted, startled. He whipped his board around and peered into the shadows. He saw nothing but trees and snow.
“You alone?” came a voice.
“No. My friends are coming. You sound...! Who are you?”
“Your friends, Neff, Notch and Sandy?”
“Yeah.”
“No one else?”
“No. Who...?”
“Snowy.”
“Snowy? Where?”
Snowy stepped from behind an evergreen.
“Whoah. How did you get here?”
“Wormwhirl come back,” said Snowy, pointing up the mountain, “for now.” He brushed away snow. “Glad you okay,” he said. “We worry wormwhirl take you somewhere else.”
“It did. It took us to a really bad cave. We almost died there. But Neff gave the wormhole sh...I mean a piece of her mind. She made it bring us to her barn. Weird, but it, like, does what she says now. She has to be really careful how she says it, though.”
“Yahoo, Snowy,” cried Neff coming across Snake.
“I knew it,” shouted Notch behind her. “Can’t keep a good man, er Snoflian, down.”
“Hi, Snowy,” said Sandy, stopping next to Notch. “We were worried. Is Grell okay?”
“Yes. She is. She will be happy to know you safe,” said Snowy. He looked at Neff, “I hear you tame wormwhirl.”
“It was acting creepy,” said Neff. “It was time it grew up. So I had a talk with it.”
“She was amazing,” said Notch.
“Is Grell with you?” asked Sandy.
“She.... Snowy looked up Snake. “Someone come.” He scooted back behind the evergreen.
The four youths turned their boards to face the trail.
A ski patroller came around the bend above and arced a turn toward them, a bit too fast. She threw her skis to the side to stop, jammed her edges and nearly fell over.
Uh, oh, the new part-timer. Sparky smiled slightly.
The patroller adjusted her goggles, then eyed the baggy clothes and colorfully painted snowboards. She glared briefly at the skull and crossbones on Notch’s board and shook her head slightly. She pointed her pole at the trail sign by the bend above.
“See that sign?” she asked. “I saw you kids looking.” she said, “in there.” She swung the tip of her pole past Notch face. He flinched.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “Anyway,” she said, lowering the pole, “don’t even think about going in there. Some young people went in there last week and got lost. We had to search for days. They’re lucky they survived. You have no idea what they went through.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Notch. “Thank you for telling us about them. We certainly wouldn’t want to go through that,” he said with a smile, “again,” he said under his breath.
“Good for you,” said the patroller. “Now you four follow the rules, okay? Have a nice afternoon.” She put on a fake smile and poled off. The four watched her go, smiles under their goggles.
“Well handled,” chuckled Neff.
“Our mouthpiece,” said Sparky, high-fiving Notch.
“Was my pleasure,” said Notch.
“Come, please,” called Snowy from the trees. “I want to ask question.”
They followed him into the out of bounds, well out of sight of Snake.
Soon after, they went down to the Training Center. Mark was there, meeting with his staff, planning the upcoming race. The four waited for the staff to break for lunch, then Sparky asked Mark a question he would never forget.
CHAPTER 63
Secret Guests
THE NEXT DAY, Grell came through the wormhole. Snowy met her. The two skiyaked down through the out-of-bounds forest to a remote mountain road where Sparky and his mother picked them up.
They asked Sparky not to tell anyone about them, other than his three friends whom he texted:
S and G guests at my house.
After Grell arrived, her face began to match Sparky’s mom’s.
“Your makeup seems so natural, Grell,” said his mom at dinner. “Perhaps you’ll show me how you do it.”
“Mek up?” asked Grell, looking at Snowy then at Sparky.
Sparky piped up, “Mom, Grell doesn’t use make-up. Her skin changes.”
“Oh,” she said, embarrassed and a bit perplexed, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know she...her skin could do that.”
“Snoflians all can, Mom. You should see them when it snows. Their faces turn white, with falling snowflakes. And you know those little sparkles that glitter on snow in the sunlight?”
His mother nodded.
“They get those too.”
During her visit, Grell and Sparky’s mother became close, so much that Sparky’s mother confided with Grell about her illness and her treatments. She told Grell she was especially anxious about her trip to the city in a few days for follow-up tests.
A few nights later, after the lifts closed, Goober quietly pulled his Trail Tyrant up to the back deck of the main lodge, and waited, lights off, engine idling. He had learned about Snoflians from Sparky’s father. But he was nervous about meeting real ones, close up and personal. With eyes closed, he tapped his knee in time with a pulsating tune.
Suddenly, the passenger door flew open.
“Hi, Goob,” said Sparky. “Dad said you’re going to take these guys up to the cave, wait for them, then bring ‘em back.”
“Yeah,” said Goober, his heart pounding. He cleared his throat, “Tell em to hop in.”
Sparky stepped aside. “Goob, this is Snowy.”
“Hello, Goob,” said Snowy, climbing in beside Goober, who nodded and moved slightly closer to the door. Whoa, he’s big.
“And this is Grell,” said Sparky.
“Hillo, Gubb,” said Grell. She squeezed in and shut the door.
“Nice to meet ya” said Goober. She don’t speak as good as him, but her face is kinda’ pretty, for an alien.
Sparky shut the door and waved. Goober motored slowly up the trail in silence, trying to get up courage to speak. He took a deep breath and glanced at Snowy. “I gotta tell ya,” he said, smiling tightly, “that was some trick you played that night, leavin them tracks on the race trail...then h
itchin a ride on my back here. Scared the heck outta me. I gotta tell ya, I wasn’t ever going up there at night again.”
“Sorry I scare you,” said Snowy. “Sometimes I too playful. But you make good corduroy. I had to try it.” A moment later, he patted the dash and said softly, “I also wanted to ride on Tyrant.”
“I see,” said Goober, a bit befuddled. An alien apologized to me! Didn’t know they did that. And he likes the Tyrant. I’ll show him what it can do.
He accelerated. Snowy and Grell hung on, gritting their teeth from time to time as they bounced and swerved up to the mountaintop and along the ridge.
When they came to a stop, Snowy and Grell left Goober in the idling Tyrant and went down to the cave. They sent a note through the wormhole in a USPS envelope. Then waited.
It wasn’t long before a silver cylinder, the size of a quart of milk, came back through. Inside it were two smaller cylinders: A red one for Snowy with a rolled up message inside and a green one for Grell who put the cylinder in her pack.
Snowy’s message said the wormhole had finally settled down, but the Snoflians couldn’t figure out why. Snowy wrote back, saying the humanc named Neff had communicated with it.
Then he asked if the Snolfians would host a Snoflian style ski race at Jagged Peak. He put both notes in the silver cylinder and sent them back through.
There was a long delay, a response, and more messages exchanged.
When Snowy was done, Goober ferried him and Grell back down.
As soon as they got to Sparky’s house, Grell showed the small, green cylinder to Sparky’s mother. The two women went into the kitchen.
CHAPTER 64
Long Past Midnight
AT TWO O’CLOCK Saturday morning, eight Trail Tyrants, headlights gleaming, lined up outside the Snow Training Center. Five had flat beds. Three had cabins on the back.
Snowy and Grell hopped into Goober’s Tyrant. Mark rode with another driver. The eight Tyrants rumbled up the mountain in a convoy, tracked across the ridge line and stopped above the cave.
A little over two hours later, the convoy returned. The five flatbeds carried riding machines. The three cabs carried Snoflians, race equipment, and a special forerunner.
Just before dawn, Sparky and Sandy who would race that day, arrived with their fathers. Sparky’s dad, as head of Jagged Peak, was there to make sure everything went as planned. Sandy’s dad, as sheriff, was there to make sure everything was secure. Sparky was in the coaches’ room, when Mark and his staff came in. They and the Snoflians had just set the race course.
“Okay,” said Mark, “when the first run gets going, Goober will take the forerunner back up to the cave. As soon as the last racer clears the finish, we’ll pull the course and take the Snoflians and their equipment back up. They’ll be in Snoflia by the time we present the awards.”
Mark nodded to Sparky’s dad, “Fred, you have something to add?”
“Yes,” replied Sparky’s father, “As you know, we’re using highly unusual technology to run this race. If people ask about it, please say we know very little about it and that we’re testing it. If they ask where it came from, please say the maker prefers to remain anonymous.”
CHAPTER 65
Race Day
THE RACERS HAD BEEN BRIEFED. The race, a giant slalom conducted according to international race regulations, had some unusual, specially sanctioned changes. The racers would be given the details when they registered on the morning of the race.
Sparky, having arrived early, was first to register. A white, lightweight belt was clipped around his waist. On the clip was a small, dime-size light, blinking green.
“What’s this light for, Mrs. Norquist?” he asked.
“It sends a signal that starts and stops the timer, Sparky,” she responded. “No more start wand or finish laser. Oh, hey, and you’re going to find this a hoot. It also talks to a drone that videos your run, from overhead.”
“Where’s my drone?” asked Sparky looking around.
“When ya get in the start, it’ll buzz over to ya. When ya finish the run, it’ll recycle back for another racer.”
“Oh,” said Sparky, slightly disappointed. Having my own drone would be so cool. He looked around, “Where are the bibs?”
“No bibs either,” she answered. “The drone flashes your number as it follows ya. Virtual image. No bib needed.”
“Awesome.”
Mrs. Norquist handed Sparky a printout. “This race guide will tell ya everything ya need to know, Sparky. Okee dokee?”
“You betcha, Mrs. Norquist.”
She smiled.
Sparky read the guide. He was stuffing it in his parka pocket, when Sandy came in. “You and your dad have breakfast?” he asked.
“Just finished.”
“Did you read the race guide yet?”
“Not yet. I was just going to.” She held it up.
“I went through it,” said Sparky. “Put it in your pocket. Get your race belt. I’ll tell you about it on the way up.”
“Yer gonna love this race, Sandy,” said Mrs. Norquist, clipping the belt around Sandy’s waist, its little light blinking green. “You two have fun, okay?”
“Thanks, Mrs. N.”
They hopped on the lift, the first racers to go up. Sparky was telling Sandy about the drones, when the course came into view. The turns were marked by spiraling columns, alternating down the course, between red on white and blue on white.
“They look like candy cane sticks!” said Sandy.
“Candy columns, they call them,” said Sparky. “They’re not real!”
“Not real?” squinted Sandy. “But I see them.”
“They’re holograms. Projected from discs on the snow. The guide says your body can go right through them.”
“Look at that,” said Sandy, “they just got brighter.”
“Clouds makes them brighter. Fog makes them blink.”
“So cool,” said Sandy studying the columns.
They got off the lift and went to the start area.
“Check out the starting tent!” said Sandy. “There’s a mural of Jagged Peak on it.”
“Awesome,” said Sparky. He shifted his attention to the first column, a red and white spiral. He and Sandy slid toward it.
“It’s like the old barber shop sign down in the village,” said Sparky. “Only wider. Let’s see.” He swung his arm through the hologram. “Nothing.”
Sandy did the same. “Bruise free,” she said. “So we can go through the columns, but our skis are still supposed to go around them. How do they know if our skis do that?”
“If a ski’s steel edge goes through a column, the disc detects it. Bingo, it disqualifies you! Check it out.”
Sparky slid the edge of his ski into the column. It buzzed. He flinched. “Oops. Didn’t know it made noise.” He sideslipped to the next column, a spiraling blue and white. “You know what else?”
“What?”
“If you get disqualified, your number blinks and your drone disses you.”
“That’s embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing doesn’t seem to be a Snoflian thing,” said Sparky.
Sandy looked past the first drop-off. “Hey, we can see the tops of the columns. We could never see the gates from here.”
Sparky unfolded the handout. “Says here: ‘Hologate columns, normally seven feet high, project higher to be seen beyond drop-offs.’ Cool, huh?”
“This is hard to believe,” said Sandy, continuing downward. The disc under the next candy column was covered by snow.
“Guess it makes no difference if it’s buried,” said Sandy.
“Guess not.”
Sparky and Sandy inspected the rest of the course, its radical use of terrain and its unusual turns. “It’s gnarly,” said Sandy.
“Looks fun, though,” said Sparky.
As they approached the Training Center, Mark came out the door. “Hey guys,” he said, “we set the warmup course over on Cat’s Claw. Go run it. Let everybody know.”
Sparky and Sandy headed over. Neff and Notch joined them there, after inspecting the race course. The four ran the warmup course, then went to the Training Center for free hot chocolates.
“We’ve got to get that technology,” said Notch, licking the whipped topping, “especially the drones.”
“Especially,” said Sparky, sipping.
“I love those candy columns....” said Neff. “Oh no,” she muttered.
Trevor Trumble and his two sidekicks, the twins Biff and Buff Berdjitt, were heading her way. They wore matching white racing suits covered with black spots.
“Team Dalmatian,” said Notch.
“Hey, pipsqueak,” said Trevor, brandishing a steel file in Sparky’s face, “Checked your edges recently?”
Biff and Buff giggled.
Did he just rag on my edges? No, he wouldn’t. But I better check. “Hello, Trevor, Biff, Buff,” said Sparky.
Trevor turned to Neff. “Hey, blondie, what’s in your backpack? Word has it you’re hiding something in there. Can I see?” He reached for her backpack.
“Cut it out, Trevor,” spat Neff, pulling her pack to her chest.
“Touchy, touchy. Never mind. I’ll find out,” said Trevor turning away.
“He’ll find out,” said Buff, following.
“Yah, he will,” said Biff, strutting away behind Buff.
“Why is Trevor on your case, Sparky?” asked Sandy.
“My dad pulled Trevor’s pass over the holidays for speeding on a crowded slope. Trevor’s taking it out on me.”
“So why’s Trevor on Neff’s case?” asked Notch.
“He likes her,” said Sandy. “But he has a stupid way of showing it.”
“If he had opened my pack,” said Neff, “Mollie would have nailed him. Can you imagine how that would have gone?”
The Snowy Page 26