Page 13 of The Season
I could back out. Could tell Matty he’s welcome to keep his overcrowded condo. I could try to find something new.
Then I remember how low my bank balance was after checking out of the hotel this morning. And that my bags are all currently sitting in the trunk of my car.
The chances of me finding something else at this point in the season are almost nonexistent.
I swallow, barely aware of the snow sliding underneath my board as I get off the lift, heading automatically to where Coach Liam is waiting for us. The other guys are already there and Liam is glaring at me and Matty as if we’re personally responsible for the glacial speed of the lift. Like it’s our fault he decided to take us to one of the least-used parts of the resort.
“Now that we’re all here”—he pauses, giving me and Matty a pointed look— “we can start working on the core demos you’ll be using to teach.” Liam lifts one gloved hand, counting on his fingers. “Falling leaf. S-turns. And then carving.” He waves toward the gentle slope behind him—an easy green run that looks like it’s been recently groomed. “This is going to be your home for the day. You’re going to learn how to demo and then teach each of these core steps.”
Beside me, Akiva lets out a derisive snort, and Liam’s glower turns on him with all the accuracy of a heat-seeking missile.
“There a problem?”
“Uh…” Akiva chuckles, then bends to buckle his bindings over his boots. “Not a problem, Coach. Just… that’s a pretty easy slope, you know.”
Liam casts a glance skyward, as if searching for some greater power that will save him from the stupidity of his students, then drags one gloved hand over his face. “Yes. That’s the point. You’re going to be teaching beginners—assuming you pass your exams, which honestly is looking more unlikely each time you open your mouth—so, yes. It’s a green slope. An easy green slope.”
With that, Liam pulls his goggles over his eyes, effortlessly pops his board in some sort of ollie before turning and gliding down to the start of the run. I bite my lip in an effort to stifle my laughter, and can’t help but glance at Matty as I buckle my free foot to my board. He gives me a wide-eyed stare that’s half amusement half horror, and I feel my grin widen.
“What are you fucking smiling about?” Akiva’s sharp voice has me standing up, my smile dropping. “You’re not any more likely to pass the exam than I am.” His dark eyes track down the length of my body, lip curling at my borrowed snowboard clothes, my worn bindings, the dented laminate of my board. “We all saw how you barely made it down that black run yesterday. I would say maybe you’d stand a chance if you spread your legs, but let’s face it—Coach’s cock is jammed so far up his own ass, I doubt he’d pull it out even for you.”
I gape at Akiva, torn between feeling horrified by the sudden vitriol he’s just spewed out and wanting to laugh. Before I can decide, Matty is slamming into him, effortlessly shoving Akiva off balance so that he falls back on the hardpack snow with a thud.
“Shut up.” Matty barks out, shoulders trembling with barely restrained rage as he looms over Akiva. “You don’t get to talk to her like that.”
The other guys standing nearby look between Akiva and Matty, chuckle nervously, then quickly strap their feet in and head to where Liam is waiting.
“Dude. Chill out.” Akiva says, throwing his hands up. “She like your girlfriend or something?”
Matty hobbles forward, snowboard only strapped to one foot, making his attempted advance more awkward than intimidating. I slide over to him, gently grip his shoulder, pulling him back.
“It’s fine,” I murmur, willing my cheeks not to heat. “Just leave it.”
“But...”
“It’s fine, Matty.” I cast a glance to where Liam and the rest of the class are staring at us several yards away. “Coach Liam is waiting. And I don’t care what this asshole thinks.”
I give Akiva a bland look, making sure he can see just how little his words have affected me.
I do feel the hit of them though, rough as the icy wind cutting against my face.
I know I’m the worst rider here. I’ve got less hours on the snow than most these guys. They grew up here, while I got my experience in two-week slots each year on family vacations. To top it all off, my gear is old, or borrowed, or both.
If passing the exam rested solely on our ability as riders, I know I wouldn’t pass.
But it doesn’t, and Akiva’s outburst kindles something warm and hopeful in my chest, fighting off the chill wind as I traverse across to join the group.
Akiva thinks this exam is all about showing off his skills, about being the best rider. So do a lot of the other guys, from what I’ve overheard them saying. But I listened to Coach yesterday, and I read the course materials last night. The biggest part of the exam is our ability to do the demos, explain how to do each different technique, and assess other riders to see what they need to change in their style.
In other words, toteach.
Teaching I can do. I’ve been teaching kids how to swim at the local pool since I was sixteen.
I skid to a stop above Liam and the other students, the warmth in my chest blooming even larger when Matty slides next to me. He didn’t have to stand up for me like that, and I’m not even sure if I wanted him to, but it still feels nice to know I’ve got an ally here. That one of these guys has my back.
I keep my eyes fixed on Liam, watching his teeth flash as he talks animatedly abouttorsional flexandcamber, about the difference between demonstrating a technique to a kinesthetic learner and a visual learner. I tune out the scraping of Akiva’s board as he skids too close behind me, ignoring the snow spraying the backs of my legs and the edge of his board knocking against mine before he comes to a stop.
Liam’s eyes narrow, his brow dipping at Akiva’s arrival, but he doesn’t stop talking. His gloved hands move descriptively in front of him, demonstrating the positioning of feet, the movement of weight from heel to toe, and his own knees bending and moving in demonstration.
