Page 26 of The Mission

Mark didn’t say anything, but the glare he gave Conrad was answer enough. Of course he wasn’t.

Several spectators had been given cowbells. Arlo was furiously shaking his. As Conrad stood waiting for his turn, he watched the line others took down the course, noting spots that seemed to cause issues. Just before Conrad was up, he spotted Arlo speeding down at the side, ringing his bell, and he smiled.

“Good luck,” he said to Simon.

“You too.”

The countdown started, and Conrad’s pulse jumped. He launched himself off with as much force as he could, and after he’d negotiated the first gate, he fell into a rhythm. Everything flowed. He neither missed a gate nor came off line, and he felt he’d had a good run. Arlo was at his side before Simon had even finished.

“I knew you could do it.” Arlo grinned. “Now beat the rest of them.”

“Including your brother?”

He winced. “You might.”

Simon skied over and shook Conrad’s hand. “Wow, you were fast. Well done.”

“Thank you.”

As he and Arlo rode the two-seater chair back to the top, another pair were skiing down. Matteo and Mark. Conrad didn’t turn to see who’d won but Arlo did.

“Big Arsehole is through to the next round. He’s not as good as you. He’s trying too hard.”

Could I win?Conrad hadn’t been bothered but now he wanted the final race to be between him and Mark.Even if you don’t win?asked that annoying voice.Fuck off!Conrad thought that had gone for good.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Arlo said. “If you two are the last pair, and you’re too far ahead to catch, I bet he falls over.”

“He’ll be too determined to beat me.”

“If I’m right, and he throws the race, you have to stay over Christmas Eve.”

“Does that mean if you’re wrong, I can’t stay over?”

“No,” Arlo said as they lifted the bar and slid off at the top. “If I’m wrong, you can choose whether to stay or not. If he throws the race, youhaveto stay.”

Sounded like a win-win to Conrad, but he still worried about intruding on a family gathering.

When he found himself skiing against Rurik, Conrad sighed.

He sighed even harder when he beat him. Just. Rurik skied over and shook his hand.

“Congratulations. Your technique is excellent.”

“Thank you.”

They poled over to the lift.

“How long have you been skiing?” Rurik asked.

“Since I was four.”

“As long as me.”

But Conrad had only skied for one week a year. Plus, Rurik was at least ten years older than him. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if Rurik had let him win, but he didn’t because Rurik would say no and Conrad would have offended him. When they reached the top, Arlo was full of glee about him beating his brother, and Conrad swallowed his doubts.

When he and Mark were the last ones standing—literally—after two guys had wiped out, and another declared that he’d had enough, Conrad was surprised by how calm yet determined he felt. He had no idea whether he could beat Mark or not, but he’d give it everything he’d got. Mark was fast and skied aggressively, but maybe Conrad was faster.I can be aggressive too.There was no way of cheating at this, otherwise he was pretty sure Mark would have.

Conrad made sure he got the fastest start he possibly could, then tucked in, poles under his arms and raced for the first gate. He could vaguely hear the cowbells, then all he could hear was the thudding of his heart as he wound his way down, keeping as tight to the posts as he could. Some he hit, where there was a faster line to take than going wider. He’d watched and learned. He was flying. This was the fastest he’d been so far. But fast enough?

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