Page 33 of First Echo

"Only when I say something stupid," I admitted, feeling a rush of relief at her softening expression.

"That must keep you pretty busy," she said, her smile widening into something genuine.

"Shut up," I laughed, surprised at how easy it suddenly felt between us. "Are we going to snowboard or what?"

She nodded, bending to strap her board back on. I did the same, and we pushed off down the mountain side by side.

We didn't talk much as we made our way down the run, but it wasn't the tense silence from before. It was almost... companionable. I found myself watching her movements, the effortless way she carved through the snow, her body in perfect sync with her board. She made it look so easy, so natural. There was something captivating about seeing someone do something they were truly good at.

Near the bottom of the run, I spotted a small café nestled among the trees, its wooden deck offering a perfect view of the valley below.

"Hey," I called out, pointing toward it. "Want to grab a hot chocolate or something?"

She looked surprised at the invitation, hesitating before nodding. "Sure."

We unclipped our boards outside the café, leaning them against the railing. The deck was mostly empty, just a few skiers finishing their drinks before heading back to the slopes. We found a table near the edge, with an unobstructed view of the mountains stretching out in all directions.

A server took our orders—hot chocolate for me, coffee for Brooke—and left us with the kind of silence that demanded to be filled.

"So," I said, casting around for a safe topic. "You mentioned you've been snowboarding since you were ten. Do you come up to the mountains a lot during winter?"

"Yeah," she replied, her fingers drumming lightly on the table. "We used to go on ski trips as a family. I started with skiing but switched to snowboarding as I got older."

The mention of family trips caused a subtle shift in her expression, a shadow passing briefly across her face. Again, I remembered what Julian had mentioned, about the girl whose mom died a few years ago.Could that actually be Brooke?

That thought made me infinitely sad, though I couldn't imagine what it had been like for her.

"Your parents must have been into winter sports too," I said carefully.

A small smile appeared. "My mom loved the mountains. We'd come up here all the time as a family." She paused, seeming surprised at herself for sharing this. "Anyway, yeah. It's been a while.”

And just like that, I knew.

My suspicions had been confirmed—Brooke was the girl Julian had been talking about.

Our drinks arrived, steam rising from the mugs. I wrapped my hands around mine, grateful for the warmth.

"What about you?" she asked. "You picked it up pretty quickly yesterday for someone who'd never done it before."

"I'm a fast learner," I said with a small shrug. "Plus, I had an decent teacher."

"Decent?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “What happened to excellent."

"That was beginner’s awe. Now I know better," I teased, enjoying the mock offense on her face.

"Watch it, or I'll let you figure out the next challenging run on your own."

"Is that a challenge?" I asked, surprising myself with how much I liked the idea.

"It's a death wish," she retorted, shaking her head. "You're not ready for that yet."

Yet. The word hung between us, implying future lessons, future days on the mountain together. The thought sent an unexpected flutter through my chest.

A comfortable silence fell as we sipped our drinks, looking out at the view. The mountains seemed to go on forever, peak after snow-covered peak disappearing into the horizon. Against that backdrop, our usual school dramas and social hierarchies seemed incredibly small.

"Can I ask you something?" I said suddenly, a question forming in my mind.

"Depends on the question," she replied warily.

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