by Nancy Krulik
“We gotta do something about this,” George whispered to Alex between coughing fits. “I can’t be sick tomorrow.”
“No, you can’t,” Alex agreed. “You’re our secret weapon against Carly. No one can do the chicken salad like you do. I know. I’ve been working on it. My liftoff is getting better, but I don’t get nearly as high as you do.”
“It took me a long time to master that part,” George told him. “You’ll get it.”
“Yeah, but you already have it,” Alex said. “Which is why you’re the right one to take Sugarman Elementary to victory. I’ll find a cure for that cold. I promise.”
A few minutes later, George was sitting in the lodge with his parents and a few other kids. It was warm by the fire, and most of the kids had taken off their coats. But not George. He was still cold, but he was also sweating. Weird.
“George, take off your parka,” his mom warned. “You’ll get overheated in that thing.”
George knew he would freeze without his jacket. But he also knew he couldn’t tell his mom that. She’d know for sure he was sick. So he took off his coat. And he tried to keep his teeth from chattering.
That was the hard part. His teeth had a mind of their own. They were clickety-clacking up and down, and George could do nothing to stop them. He couldn’t even blame it on the super burp.
Just then, Alex plopped next to George. He was carrying a big steaming mug. “Drink this,” he told George.
“Hot chocolate?” George asked. “Yum!”
Alex shook his head. “It’s tea made with orange peels and ginger root. It’s a cure for the common cold. I looked it up on my mom’s laptop. Then I asked the people in the lodge kitchen to make it special for you.”
George sniffed at the tea, but he couldn’t smell anything. His nose was too stuffed up.
“I’ll give it a try,” George said. He opened his mouth and took a giant gulp.
“Yikes!!” George shouted. It felt like his mouth was on fire.
“That’s the ginger,” Alex said calmly. “It’ll burn the sick right out of you.”
The tea was burning everything right out of him.
“Owie!” George shouted. He leaped up and ran out of the lodge and into the cold. He dropped to the ground, grabbed a handful of snow, and threw it down his throat. Anything to stop that burning.
“What are you doing?”
George looked up. It was Carly. She’d just come down from the slopes—and caught him acting all weird. Again.
“Um . . . I’m trying to become one with the snow,” he told her. “It’s my secret weapon for snowboarding. It helps me feel comfortable on the slope.”
Carly gave him a strange look. Then she bent down and picked up a handful of snow. She ate it, too. “It’s worth a try,” she told him with a grin.
George couldn’t believe Carly had fallen for that. Still, it was impressive the way she’d try just about anything to win. Too bad she didn’t have a chance against his chicken salad.
“Wow. That’s cold,” Carly said. “You want to go inside and get some hot cocoa?”
“Um . . . sure,” George said. He turned and followed her back into the lodge.
Sage was sitting on the couch, knitting, as George and Carly passed by. “Be careful,” she whispered to George. “Remember, she’s the enemy.”
George didn’t answer. He knew that wasn’t true. Carly wasn’t his enemy. This cold was. In fact, it was pretty much the only thing that could keep him from winning the snowboard competition tomorrow. The cold was probably the toughest challenger he’d ever faced.
“I can’t wait for the chow,” George’s dad said as he sat down at the dinner table.
All of the Edith B. Sugarman fourth-grade families had gathered together in a special dining room. It was a chance to eat and share some school spirit.
“I’m starving,” George’s mom agreed. “That sleigh ride we went on really worked up my appetite.”
“I’m hungry, too,” Chris’s father said. “Nothing makes me as hungry as skiing.”
“There’s a cheeseburger deluxe on the menu,” Chris said. “I’m getting that.”
“I’m going for the chili dog,” Alex said.
“With carrots on the side,” Alex’s mother insisted. “And a glass of milk. Milk builds strong teeth.”
“Yes, Mom,” Alex said.
“I’m having the cauliflower-and-cabbage combo,” Sage said, looking at the menu as her knitting needles kept clacking. “We’re vegetarians,” she explained to the other families.
“You really like knitting, don’t you?” Chris’s mom asked her.
Sage’s mother laughed. “Sage hasn’t put those needles down once since the skating competition. I have a feeling she’ll be knitting in her sleep.”
“She was definitely the best knitter in the kids’ group we had at my craft shop last month,” George’s mom commented.
Sage smiled and knit a little faster. A giant sea of knitted blue wool trailed past her feet. The wool moved up and down in waves as the knitting needles clicked.
Watching the waves of wool move was making George feel seasick.
George’s mother gave him a funny look. “You’re awfully quiet tonight,” she said.
George shrugged. He didn’t want to tell his mother that the thought of cheeseburgers, chili dogs, and milk was making his stomach all queasy. Or that the room seemed to be spinning—kind of like when he’d been out on the slopes in his tube.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” his mother asked. “Your cheeks are pink.”
George nodded. “I’m fine. It’s probably just windburn.” Aaachooo! He let out a big sneeze, wiped the boogers on his napkin, and placed it in his lap.
A few minutes later, waiters came by to take everyone’s orders. Alex ordered his chili dog. Chris ordered his cheeseburger. George looked at the menu. But just the thought of food made him queasy.
“I’m not all that hungry,” he said.
George’s mom gave him a strange look. “You never say that,” she told him. “You always have an appetite.”
George looked helplessly at Alex and Chris.
“Um . . . I think he’s just nervous about tomorrow,” Alex said quickly, covering for George.
“Snowboarding in front of Dice Nieveson is a big deal,” Chris added.
“All the more reason to chow down tonight, son,” George’s dad said. “Carbs will give you energy. Have the spaghetti and meatballs. It comes with a side of garlic bread.”
George nodded quietly. “Uh . . . sure,” he said, trying to force a smile on his face.
Just then, Mrs. Kelly leaped to her feet. She was wearing a Sugarman Sea Monkeys sweatshirt and carrying big fluffy pom-poms.
“You kids were awesome today!” she shouted. “And because of all your efforts, we’re tied for first place going into tomorrow’s competitions!”
The kids all cheered. All except George. He was too busy holding his sweaty head in his hands. The cheering was giving him a headache.
“We are one step closer to getting the five thousand dollars for the library in China!” Mrs. Kelly shouted. “Of course, no matter what happens tomorrow, we will be helping those kids.”
“Oh, we’ll win,” Louie promised her. “Especially with me competing in the snowboarding contest.” He looked over at George. “Don’t even think of messing things up for me.”
George shook his head. Between shivering and sweating, coughing and sneezing, Louie was the last thing he was thinking about.
Mrs. Kelly smiled. She shook her pom-poms in the air. “That’s the spirit!” she cheered. “Come on, let’s hear it!”
“Sugarman!” the kids all shouted.
“A little louder,” Mrs. Kelly said again. She twirled in a circle.
“Sugarman!” the kids shouted again.
George rubbed his eyes. He could swear he was seeing two Mrs. Kellys, both shaking their pom-poms and jumping around.
He looked across the table. Now there were two Sages. They were both knitting. Clickety-clack. Clickety-clack. The knitting needles sounded so loud.
Oh brother. George wasn’t just seeing double. He was hearing double. And all that clickety-clacking was making his headache worse.
Then the waiters appeared with their trays of food. The smell of hot dogs, hamburgers, spaghetti, cheese, and garlic wafted under George’s nose. Something inside George’s stomach started sloshing all around. But it wasn’t bubbles. This was something else. Something even more awful.
The waiter put George’s mother’s order of liver and onions on the table. The slab of meat was gray and flat. It smelled awful. That sloshing feeling in George’s stomach got worse. And then . . .
BLECCCCHHHHH! George Brown barfed. Big-time.
“What do you mean you can’t compete tomorrow?” Alex shouted into the phone a few hours later.
“The Lumi Lodge Snow Resort doctor told my mother I have to stay in bed until we go home,” George said sadly.
“But you have to,” Alex said. “The whole school is depending on you.”
“That’s what I told the doctor,” George agreed. “But he wouldn’t listen. And neither would my parents.”
“That only leaves Louie snowboarding for us. And we all know Louie’s gonna lose,” Alex said. “Without you, we’re doomed.”
Now George wished he hadn’t called Alex. He was just making him feel worse. Which wasn’t easy, considering George already had a fever, a stuffy nose, a sore throat, and a barfy belly.
Worse than all of that was the fact that George wasn’t going to get to meet Dice Nieveson. Having his snowboarding idol so close and not being able to even see him was more painful than his sore throat.
“It’s not like I wanted to get sick,” George reminded his best friend.
“I know,” Alex said. “I didn’t mean to sound like that. It’s just that I’m really bummed because we’re never going to win the five thousand dollars for that library now,” Alex continued. “We’ll be lucky if we get second place with Louie as our only snowboarder.”
George thought about that for a minute. Then he said, “He doesn’t have to be our only snowboarder . . .”
“What are you talking about?” Alex asked. “You just told me that the doctor said you have to stay in bed. You’re not planning on sneaking out of your room, are you?”
Alex almost sounded like he hoped that was exactly what George would do. But that wasn’t happening. Not with George’s dad standing guard over him.
“Nah, I’m stuck here,” George said. “But there is someone else who can do a chicken salad.”
“Who?” Alex asked.
“You,” George told him. “You almost had it perfect last time.”
“Almost isn’t good enough,” Alex insisted. “Not with Carly out there. She’s amazing.”
That was true. Carly was a good snowboarder. Alex probably couldn’t beat her. But he might come in second. Which wouldn’t be terrible.
“Do you really want Louie to be the only one from our school on the slopes?” George asked him.
Alex didn’t say anything for a very long time. Finally he muttered, “I guess I don’t have any choice.”
“Not really,” George agreed.
“I’ll have to go to the ski shop and reserve a snowboard for tomorrow,” Alex said.
“You can use mine,” George told him. “It’s not a fancy board, but it’s pretty good. And it’s been lucky for me . . . until now,” he added sadly.
“Gee, thanks,” Alex said. “That’ll be great. Now, remind me again how much I have to bend my back leg when I lift off. Because that’s the part I always mess up.”
By the next morning, George was feeling a little better. His throat still felt like sandpaper. And his nose was clogged up like a drain full of hair. But at least the room wasn’t spinning. He wasn’t shivering and sweating at the same time. And the stuff in his stomach wasn’t sloshing around.
“I feel better!” George shouted excitedly as he shot out of bed. Or at least he tried to shout. It came out more like a scratchy whisper. “I can snowboard.”
“Oh no you don’t, soldier,” George’s dad replied. “The doctor said you were supposed to rest until it was time to go home. And that’s what you’re doing.”
“But . . . ,” George started.
“No buts,” his mom said. “You get back in bed. I’ll order in some toast and tea. It’ll be good for your stomach.”
George frowned. Toast and tea? Blech. What kind of breakfast was that?
“And you can watch the snowboarding competition from the window,” his mom continued. “We have a great view from here.”
George crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked outside. The snow on the mountain looked amazing. Perfect for snowboarding.
He sure hoped Alex would remember everything he’d taught him. Because the whole competition depended on it!
Suddenly it felt like someone was doing the chicken salad inside George’s stomach. Only this time he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with being sick—and everything to do with Alex.
George watched through the window as the ski lift carried the snowboarders up the hill. He spotted Louie right away—he was hard to miss with his red parka, yellow helmet, and orange kneepads. He looked like a lumpy fruit salad.
Alex was right behind Louie on the lift. He was holding George’s snowboard tight. George could tell he was nervous by the way he kept kicking his legs back and forth. Not that George blamed him. Doing a snowboard stunt in front of Dice Nieveson would make anyone nervous.
George scanned the lift for Carly’s purple ski jacket, but he didn’t see her. She was probably already at the top, getting ready. George wondered if she was eating some of the snow, just so she could become one with it. He still couldn’t believe she’d fallen for that. Of course it was a lot better than having her think he was nuts.
“Do you want some more tea?” George’s mom asked. “Or how about some soup?”
George shook his head. If he had one more cup of tea or another bowl of soup, he was sure his bladder would burst. And he didn’t want to miss a minute of the snowboarding competition, not even to go to the bathroom.
“No, thanks,” he told his mom. “I’m good.”
Except George wasn’t good. He was rotten. And jealous. Sure, George had been the one to convince Alex that he should compete in the snowboard contest. But that didn’t mean he liked it.
From his bed, George could see Louie getting ready to show off his skills.
And then, Louie took off into the air. He bent his legs slightly to the right. He moved his arms to the left, he bent at the waist and . . . plopped butt-first into the snow below.
Whoa. That had to hurt.
George shook his head. Louie hadn’t even gotten to do an ollie—the simplest move there was. He’d just sunk like he was made of lead.
George laughed. Some killer instinct.
But George stopped laughing. Louie’s epic fail wasn’t so funny, because it meant that if Alex didn’t pull off an amazing chicken salad, Edith B. Sugarman Elementary School was doomed.
Aachoo! George sneezed and looked at the mountain for the next snowboarder. He wondered if it would be Carly.
But Carly wasn’t the one prepping for the jump. It was some kid George had never seen before. The kid took off and grabbed the heel edge of his board with his leading hand. It wasn’t a bad melon move.
If George had been up there, he probably would have turned his board forty-five degrees to the right, making it a watermelon. That was the kind of move that would impr
ess someone like Dice Nieveson.
Just then, Alex took his place at the start. George’s heart started pounding. He really hoped Alex could pull off the move.
“Come on, Alex,” George said, crossing his fingers, toes, and eyes. “You can do it.”
Alex approached the slope and took off in one fluid motion.
Good lift, George thought. Now reach between your legs . . .
Yes! George pumped his fist in the air as he saw his best friend reach between his legs and grab the back of the board with one hand while poking his free arm out to his side.
Then he released the board and made a nice, clean landing in the snow.
“He totally nailed it!” George shouted. “That was the best chicken salad Alex has ever done!”
But was it good enough?
“I won!” Alex shouted as he burst into George’s room a little while later. “I beat them all!” He held up his shiny gold-colored medal to prove it. “Of course, it didn’t hurt that Carly was too sick to compete.”
That explained why George hadn’t seen Carly on the slopes. She was sick, too.
“You would have won, anyway,” George assured Alex. “I was watching you from my window. That chicken salad was aces.”
“You really think so?” Alex asked. “Coming from you, that’s a real compliment!”
“Never mind me. Dice Nieveson thought you were the best in the competition. And he’s the expert.” George coughed. “What was he like when you met him?” he asked, trying not to sound as jealous as he really was.
“Amazing,” Alex replied. “He gave us all pointers, and he had something nice to say about everyone.”
“Even Louie?” George asked. He couldn’t imagine what nice thing Dice could say about the plop in the snow Louie had done.
“He told him he loved his yellow helmet, and that he was thinking of wearing one in his next competition,” Alex said with a grin.
