by Annie Bryant
I shrugged. “Whatever. If you want.” How was I supposed to know how to tell them? Was there a rule for this type of thing? Maybe he had to tell us because he wanted Andie to stick around for a long time. How long was the question. “So are you two going to get married or what?” I asked him.
Dad spewed coffee out of his mouth and all over the counter. He coughed and wiped himself off. “Avery, I’ve only been dating her for three months.”
“So then you’re not.”
“Avery …” Dad was usually kind of a chatterbox like me. It was strange to see him like this … not really knowing what to say. Well that was okay. I didn’t really know what to say either.
“Avery, I have no idea what the future will be. I like spending time with Andie. She’s nice and fun to be with. Plus Kazie’s a great kid. She works at the store on the weekends.” How many times is Dad going to bring up this Kazie character? I wondered. I used to work at the store when I came to visit. Would Dad even need my help if he had Kazie around?
“Do you want to talk more about this, Ave?” asked Dad.
I looked at Dad like he was crazy. “Talk about it? Dad, the Snurfer Competition is only a few days away! Don’t you think we have much more important things to talk about? Like what kind of jumps I should do, and what time we’re going to hit the slopes tomorrow, and when I’m going to get to meet Donnie Keeler, and—”
“S’cuse me, Avery. Your burgers are all ready,” Bonnie announced, sliding two plates in front of me and Dad.
The burgers were thick and juicy on homemade sesame buns. On each of our plates were a small mountain of potato wedges and a little bowl of coleslaw.
“This looks unbelievable, Bonnie. Another masterpiece,” Dad raved.
“Yeah, thanks,” I chimed, but instead of digging in, I just stared at the burger. For some reason, I had suddenly lost my appetite.
I was tired out by the time we got back to Dad’s. I showered, changed into my PJs, and snuggled up with Marty in my bed. Then I suddenly remembered what I’d promised my friends right before I left: an e-mail.
To: Charlotte, Katani, Maeve, Isabel
From: Avery
Subject: Hello from CO
Hey BSG! I miss you already. Telluride is a snowboarder’s heaven right now! Can’t wait to shred it up! Other big news—Dad has a new girlfriend. Totally weird. She has a 13-year-old daughter named Kazie who Dad says is an awesome snowboarder, but I’ll have to C it 2 believe it. Marty traveled like a pro, except when the plane hit turbulence. (But don’t ask him about it—don’t want to embarrass the little dude!) BTW, thank you guys tons for the presents. They rock!
TTYL,
Avery
PS—Guess who the celeb judge for the Snurfer is … give you 1 clue: THE GOLDEN EGG.
CHAPTER
5
Crazie Kazie
I opened my eyes to a sunlit room, rolled over, and found something gray and furry right next to my face. It took a split second for me to realize that the fur ball was Marty and to remember why Marty was in my bed. I bolted upright. I was in Telluride. It was a perfectly good boarding day. I didn’t have a second to lose!
I heard the crackling sound of bacon on the griddle. “Mmm, mmm,” I said, sniffing the air. I could smell my dad’s coffee, too. Thank goodness Dad and I were both early birds. When I looked over the upstairs railing, I spied Dad at the stove flipping banana pecan pancakes—his breakfast specialty. I tiptoed down the spiral staircase and snuck up behind him. “GOOD MORNING!” I sang loudly.
Dad jumped a little (not as much as I hoped!), but at least no pancakes went flying. “Hey there.” He pointed to me with the spatula. “Didn’t you learn your lesson after your last pancake fight with Scott?”
“Ha, ha … never!” I grabbed a plate holding a tall stack of pancakes.
Marty scampered downstairs and leaped onto the window seat. He nuzzled into the cushion and started people/dog watching, his nose steaming up the glass.
“I bet Marty’ll make tons of friends here in Telluride,” said Dad. “All he’s gotta do is take a walk around the block, and he’ll have himself a dog-fest.”
I drizzled a zigzag of syrup on my pancake pile. “Um, no offense, Dad, but Marty doesn’t need to make more friends. He’s got a whole dog posse back home. And a poodle girlfriend.”
“Is that a fact?”
I gulped down a mouthful of pancake. “Sure is. He’s the coolest pup in town! You miss La Fanny, Marty?” I asked.
Marty barked, but I wasn’t sure if it was a “yes” or a “holla!” to the Colorado dogs outside the window.
“Are you going to take the day off to go snowboarding with me, Dad?”
Dad sat down at the table with me. “You bet! I was thinking we’d head up to Mountain Village after breakfast. Then we’ll take the lift up and do a run down Boomerang to warm up. In the afternoon we can check out Hoot Brown Terrain Park … if you’re feeling brave enough, that is.” I smiled. I loved hearing Dad use all the Telluride lingo.
“I just need to drop off a bunch of Snurfer flyers and registration forms at the Village shops.”
“Dad?” I asked. “Do you think I could wear Scott’s old jacket this year? I’ve grown a little, so maybe it won’t be too big for me …” Scott’s old coat was bright yellow, super warm, and awesomely cool. It would be perfect for the Snurfer.
“Sure, but you know you can get a new jacket from the store if you want.” That part of having a dad that owned a sports store was pretty cool—free gear.
“That’s okay,” I told Dad. “Scott’s coat’s already been broken in. You know, more comfortable and stuff.”
“Of course,” Dad answered with a wink. He knew that what you wore on the slopes wasn’t all about being new and high-tech. Dad’s ski-suit was legendary. He’d worn the same thing since before I was even born. It was a 1980s fluorescent blue one-piece covered with geometric shapes and patches—souvenirs from Dad’s big races and events. Even though he could get any kind of new equipment he wanted, he refused. “Why would I? This still fits me perfectly! Remember, it’s not what you wear, it’s how you tear!” The only thing he always updated was his hat. Every year he got a new Snurfman hat, crazier than the one before.
After breakfast I walked Marty around the block. He definitely didn’t have any problem with friend-making. Marty barked hello to just about every dog we passed. He sat, rolled, played dead, and tried to perform every trick in his book. “Too bad dogs can’t snowboard. I bet you’d be a natural! You have to stay home today though, Marty. But don’t worry. Just wait for me by the window and I’ll be back before you know it.”
Marty made his eyes so sad that I had to laugh. I wished he could come, but I knew the mountains were no place for pups. As I waved good-bye to Marty later that morning, I pictured him on a doggy snowboard wearing a tiny helmet. Maybe someday …
As we drove down Main Street I was getting more and more excited. I couldn’t wait to hit the slopes. “I just need to make one quick stop at the store,” said Dad.
“Aw, man! Can we hurry?” I urged.
Dad laughed. “Once you see why we’re stopping at ATS, I think you’ll be glad we did.”
I followed Dad into the store and toward the back room. He unlocked the door to his office and there, resting on his desk, was a brand new, bright red snowboard. The letters ATS were stenciled on the top in white, lined with black. “This is for you, Ave. Only had a few made. It’s the official ATS board, reserved for sponsorship of only the best young athletes.”
Dad placed the board in my hands and I felt my spine shiver a little. “Whoa … Thanks, Dad,” I said breathlessly. “This is the best present EVER!”
I got in position on the board with my legs so far apart it looked more like I was about to ride an elephant than a snowboard. Dad frowned. “I’m going to have Ricky adjust those bindings for you,” he decided.
“That’s probably a good idea,” I laughed. I tried to fake an ollie, one of my favo
rite boarding tricks, but I felt like a Sumo wrestler with my feet spread so wide on the board. Dad called Ricky over. A guy about Tim’s age with shaggy blond hair leaned over the counter.
“Can you move these in?” I showed Ricky where I wanted my bindings. “They’re a little too big.”
Ricky chuckled. “You can say that again. So, are you a grommet?” he asked. I felt my cheeks grow hot. Ricky thought I was a beginner at snowboarding?! I tried not to look insulted. Just because I was small didn’t mean I was a grommet! “‘Cause ATS is a great place to start,” Ricky added. “Mr. M sells the best boards in town.”
Now Dad was the one to chuckle. “Ricky, this is my daughter, Avery. She lives in Boston. And … she’s been boarding for years. Avery’s twelve.”
Ricky scratched his messy hair. “Oh, sorry, Mr. M. I didn’t know you guys were related. I mean … um …”
I was adopted from Korea, so obviously I looked different than the rest of my family. People who didn’t know the Maddens sometimes didn’t get that I was the daughter. I was pretty much used to it, but still, I never really knew what to say.
Dad helped out. “That’s okay, Ricky. Avery’s going to enter the Snurfer Competition on Tuesday. She’s got a great chance of placing, too.”
“Sweet, dude. Slap me five.” Ricky bent down, held out his hand, and I gave him a good old Avery slap.
“Need anything else, Mr. M?” Ricky asked.
“Nope, we should be all set. Unless …” Dad looked at me with a twinkle in his eye.
“Unless what?” I asked. He didn’t say anything. “Come on, Dad … just tell me.”
“How are you for a helmet?”
I thought of my scratched-up black helmet. It had been feeling pretty tight around my ears lately. “I’d LOVE a new helmet!” I blurted.
Dad laughed. “I think that can be arranged.”
“Hey, Mr. M, we just got in a whole new order of pink helmets yesterday if Avery wants to try one of those,” Ricky suggested.
I looked at Dad. He looked at me. We were both thinking the same thing: NO WAY!
“That’s okay, Ricky. I’ve already set one aside for her at the register.”
“Yeah, and also … I really don’t like pink,” I explained. That was the understatement of the year.
I slipped on the helmet Dad had chosen—cherry red—and checked it out in the mirror. The outfit was definitely worthy of a Snurfer trophy. But was Avery Madden worthy?
“Need anything else?” Dad pointed to the racks of pants and tops. “Anything at all?” He held up a ski hat that looked like a Viking helmet made of fleece with two horns and long yellow yarn pigtails sewn in.
“Okay, Dad, that’s just plain scary. And besides, like you say—it’s not what you wear, it’s how you tear … it up!” Dad laughed at my personalized version of his rule. “Now can we get outta here already? I need to get to the mountain!”
“No problem. I’m out of here, Ricky,” Dad said. “Andie should be in shortly.” And finally, we headed for the Snurfmobile. It was hard to find room for my board in the trunk. “Dad, what’s your snowmobile doing back here? It’s taking up all the space.”
“Oh, that. I thought I’d use it later to hang a few posters for the Snurfer around town.”
I rolled my eyes. My brothers and I joked that Dad looked for any excuse to drive that thing around Telluride. Dad called it his favorite toy. I wedged my new board next to the snowmobile and we were off … ready to hit the slopes.
The first thing I did when we got to the mountain was sign up for the Snurfer. I filled out all my info, printing my name as neatly as I could, and dropped it into the box by the ticket window. Dad pulled out his digital camera. “Just one. We need documentation!” I got close to Dad and he held the camera in front of us with one of his long arms. “Fleas!” we cried at the same time. Dad liked “fleas” better than “cheese” because he said it made people smile more sincerely.
“There. Now we can always remember how I got my big break!” I laughed.
Dad smiled. “So should we start on Boomerang?” he asked. Boomerang was a blue square run, which meant that it wasn’t too difficult. I knew he was choosing a blue square run for my sake—as a warm up. But it was a deep pow-pow day, so starting on a blue square was fine by me. “Oh, and here’s your lift ticket.”
“Thanks!” I fastened the tag on my zipper. “Are you shreddy?” I asked, pulling my goggles over my eyes.
“Are you?” Dad smiled and looked toward the mountain. “Race you to the gondola!” he declared. And with that, he took off. People turned to watch Dad pump his way through the crowd, creating a flurry of snow. He was tall and skinny in his bright blue outfit with the Snurfman jester cap flopping everywhere. It was a pretty funny sight.
“No fair, I wasn’t shreddy yet!” I huffed and puffed after him. I wasn’t totally used to the altitude, either.
The gondola was free so people could ride from the base up to the Mountain Village to shop, eat, watch a competition, or just check out the view. It was going to be an amazing snowboarding day—I could tell just from looking out of the gondola. The trees were covered with snow, which meant one thing: deep powder runs.
The lift zipped us up to the top of the mountain, where fresh snow was just beginning to fall. It was finally time to ride. “Sweet runs, here I come!” I shouted as I paddled myself to a bench to buckle my boots. I was totally ready to go, but Dad was still wiping his goggles. Time for revenge. “Hey Dad … race you to the halfway point!” And I was off. He seemed surprised to see me float by, but smiled and waved me along. For the first ride of the season, Dad always had my back.
The trail started off slowly and I took wide, graceful turns in the fluffy snow. My legs were jelly at first, but soon I felt as if I’d never been away from the mountain. I thought of a bumper sticker on the Snurfmobile: “Born to Ride.” That’s me! I thought.
Wind whistled past my helmet and gigantic snowflakes ricocheted off my goggles. I was about to shout when I heard a loud “Whooooo-hooooo!” whizzing by. It was Dad! I went into a tuck position and whooshed even faster. Dad and I weaved around the trail and stopped when we reached a post with signs and arrows that told us which trails were for beginners, intermediates, experts, and the completely insane!
“Is this nirvana or what?!” Dad exclaimed.
“Ner—what?” I asked as I tried to catch my breath.
Dad laughed. “It means a state of heavenly tranquility,” he explained.
“Oh yeah, then this is definitely nirvana!”
“Better than soccer?” Dad challenged me with a grin.
“Don’t even go there! That’s like … that’s like asking me which BSG is my favorite. Impossible.”
I was about to push off again, when Dad caught my shoulder. “Hold up a second, Ave. See that group of boarders coming down the double black diamond? Keep your eyes peeled for the pink helmet. Watch.”
I squinted and focused in on a bright pink figure bouncing over moguls. She turned at the bottom where her trail intersected with ours and coasted toward us at avalanche speed. Just when I thought she was going to crash into me, she slid to a quick stop, sending a mini snowstorm all over us. It was a move that I used to pull on my brothers all the time … but no one had ever sprayed me with snow before!
“Jake the Snake!” said the girl. She wore a magenta jacket with orange pants. Blond braids woven with purple ribbons hung from her matching pink helmet. I had a pretty good guess where the helmet came from. The crew of boarders hung back a few yards away.
Dad held up his glove and slapped her hands in a series of high fives, like a secret handshake or something. “You almost gave me a heart attack!” Dad laughed. “Way to make an entrance!”
“How sweeeet is this shredding, Snurfman?” Pink girl pulled up her goggles. “Talk about perfect pow-pow!”
“Better believe it!” Dad agreed and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Kazie, this is my daughter, Avery. She just got in
yesterday from Boston. Avery, this is the one and only Crazie Kazie, Andie’s daughter.”
“Hey, nice to meet you,” I said slowly.
“Nice to meet you too.” Kazie grabbed my hand and squeezed—hard. She was more than a whole head taller than me, probably as tall as my friend Katani. The kids behind her all looked a little older than me too. Were they high schoolers? I wondered. Kazie tilted her head at them and raised her eyebrows. “You guys want to come with?” she asked.
I glanced at Dad and tried to send him a psychic message. Say no … Say no … But I think we must have been disconnected, because a huge grin spread on his face.
“Wow! That’s nice of you, Kazie. What do you say, Ave? Want to go?”
“Um …” I stalled. These kids seemed cool enough, but I didn’t feel like dealing with new people. This was supposed to be my day with Dad … not Kazie’s. “Nah, that’s okay,” I mumbled.
Dad looked confused. “You sure? Kazie’s crippler is world famous.”
Boy, our psychic line was way off. For a second, I wished I were a skier so I could tap Dad with my ski pole. Hello? Get a clue! This is kind of weird for me. “I still want to warm up a little,” I explained. It was true—well, kind of.
“Come ON, Kazie!” one of the kids shouted. “Let’s shred it up already!”
“Yo, chillax,” Kazie called back. “Okay, well, I’ll see you tonight, Jake-the-snake-Snurf-dude-man! Sick riding, Avery. Later gators!” Kazie and another kid rode toward a major snow ramp and flew off it at the same time. In midair, they bent their knees and their snowboard bottoms smacked, bonking perfectly. The echo boomed through the trees even after they disappeared over the slope.
Was that my competition?
“How old is she again?” I asked.
“Thirteen.”
My jaw dropped.
“She’s really tall for her age,” Dad added.
Now I felt more charged than ever. As we boarded on down the mountain, I focused on my moves. No more kids’ stuff. Dad and I reached the bottom and we took the chairlift back up.
