Page 33 of Wrecked on the Mountain
What kind of winter festival is this? What rational community celebrates winter by dunking people in frozen lakes? I've treated hypothermia cases in Chicago's ERs! This isn't entertainment; it's borderline insanity wrapped in some bat-shit crazy small-town tradition.
And yet... everyone seems so genuinely happy about it.
Inside the tent, it's blissfully warm and surprisingly spacious.
There's a cushioned bench, a full-length mirror, and a neat stack of towels that look like they came from a five-star hotel.
Across the tent, my regulation Mountain Rescue swimsuit that came with my uniform package hangs on a hook like it's been waiting for this moment. I never expected the "water rescue training equipment" would be used quite like this.
"How did you know I'd need the swimsuit from my gear bag?" I call out to Betty through the tent flap.
"Martha's very thorough with equipment preparation," comes the cheerful reply. "Always best to be prepared for any rescue scenario, dear."
Any rescue scenario.Right.
I glance around the tent and notice something suspicious. There's only one swimsuit hanging here.Mine. Where exactly are the other five swimsuits for the other names that were supposedly in that hat?
This is starting to feel like one very elaborate setup.
I strip out of my clothes quickly, the cool air making me shiver even inside the heated tent. The swimsuit fits perfectly, which is both convenient and mildly terrifying.
How thoroughly has this town investigated my personal belongings?
When I emerge from the tent wearing the massive robe, the crowd goes absolutely wild. People are cheering, whistling, and I swear I hear someone start a slow clap.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Jamie's voice booms over a sound system, sounding louder than ever. "Presenting our brave volunteer, Dr. Brooke Shields!"
"Volunteer my ass," I groan.
The crowd parts like I'm a prizefighter entering the ring, and oh my God, that's exactly what this feels like. All I need is a corner man and some dramatic entrance music.
Then "Eye of the Tiger" actually does start blasting from the speakers.
"You've got to be kidding me."
Jamie's loving every second of this, and the crowd is eating it up, clapping along to the beat as I make my way toward the platform that's been set up at the edge of the lake.
The setup is impressive—a professional-grade diving platform with safety railings. Jamie's standing next to a carnival-style dunk tank lever that's painted the exact shade of red as a fire engine, or perhaps my burning humiliation.
He's grinning like the cat who not only got the cream but found the dairy farm's secret stash, his eyes dancing with a mischief.
And God help me, there's something about the way the winter sunlight catches in his dark hair that makes it hard to remember why I should be furious.
"Alright, Doc," he calls out as I reach the platform. "Ready to take the plunge?"
"Do I have a choice?" I yell back, climbing the steps to the platform.
"You could always forfeit," he suggests with mock seriousness. "But then we'd have to draw another name, and I'd hate to see Chase or Beau get disappointed."
I look out at the crowd and spot both Chase and Beau in the front row. Chase gives me an encouraging thumbs up while Beau just shakes his head with what might be admiration or pity.
"Besides," Jamie adds with that infuriating grin. "I'm pretty sure your name was the only one in there anyway."
I knew it.
"Fine," I announce, reaching for the tie on the robe. "Let's get this over with."
"Wait!" Jamie holds up a hand dramatically, like he's some kind of Hollywood director calling cut on set. The crowd goes quiet, hanging on his every word. "She looks cold up there… don't you think?"
