by Annie Bryant
“This is Marty. My friends and I found him in a garbage can and decided to adopt him. He’s a mutt just like Crud, but we don’t know what kind. I like to call him a Serengeti Wallaby, ’cause who knows—he could be from Africa, or Australia, or anywhere!”
Marty and Crud the Border Jack were playing in the snow piled up beside the sidewalk. There were so many things I wanted to ask the Golden Egg—like especially if he had any secret shred-tastic boarding tips! Instead, here we were just talking about our dogs, like any old normal people in Telluride. I really wanted to stay and talk some more, but I knew Dad was waiting for me at the store.
“Well, it was nice to meet you, DK, but I gotta run. I’m going to my dad’s store to help out this morning.”
“Wait, before you go … do you know anywhere around here where I could get a decent breakfast? I’m craving a huuuge waffle! It’s what my mom always makes before I go boarding.” With his messy hair and tanned cheeks, DK looked like he was a teenager. Then I remembered—DK was a teenager. I read in Mountain Monthly that DK was just seventeen! Five years older than me … practically the same age as Scott. And he traveled to all these places by himself. Wow. I totally understood why he’d want a waffle to remind him of home. I searched my brain for the perfect place.
It was honestly weird. When I looked around—like magic—there was this sign for a restaurant that I’d never seen before. “Come Visit Maggie’s: Home of the Famous Waffle Mountain.” A new breakfast place in Telluride! Was luck on my side this morning or what?
We tied up Marty and Crud outside and walked in. “Wow, this place looks amaaaazing, Snurfette!”
The restaurant smelled like coffee, a hot griddle, and warm maple syrup. It was hopping inside, full of people who looked like marshmallows walking around in their puffy jackets, filling up before a long day at the mountain.
“Are you going to get some waffles?” DK asked.
“Gee, I wanna stay, but …” Just then I noticed a rack of postcards near the door. Good thing I had Charlotte’s key ring with the tiny pen on it. If I mailed some postcards today, they’d get to Brookline before I got home. “Well, maybe just a quick hot chocolate,” I agreed. “I’ve got some serious postcard writing to do!”
“All right! Rad!”
I went over to the rack to pick out cards, and DK hopped onto a stool at the counter. They were spinners—like at Fat Alley. (To be an awesome Colorado restaurant, you gotta get the spinning chairs!) I grabbed four postcards that I knew the BSG would love: Ajax Peak from a plane, the shops on Main Street, a huge avalanche, and the Telluride Film Festival. It didn’t really matter who got which card … except one. I was definitely going to give the film festival card to Maeve!
DK ordered me a hot chocolate, and it was on the counter waiting for me when I reached the counter.
“What do you think?” I asked, showing him the cards I picked out.
“All very righteous,” he said approvingly. “Are these for your friends at home?”
“Yup. They’re in Brookline. They made me promise to write to them this week.”
“Right on. So what are you going to write about?” asked DK.
I thought about this for a sec and sipped the hot chocolate. Ouch! It was burning hot. DK laughed when I made a dive for my ice water. I gulped it and even threw some ice cubes in the hot chocolate for good measure. Then I started scribbling on the avalanche card:
Dear Isabel,
Thought of you ‘cause of this cool picture! I boarded yesterday. It was soooo awesome to be on the slopes again!
Then I had to stop. What I really wanted to write about was meeting Jason and Ollie the hawk … and now hanging out with DK. But if the BSG got a postcard from Avery Madden about two guys, even if they were cool guys, they’d think I’d been abducted by aliens! Besides, I wasn’t excited in a Maeve-crush kind of way. Jason was awesome because he was raising a wild hawk, and Donnie Keeler, well—celebrity snowboarder? That was a no-brainer!
DK noticed me staring hard at the postcard and chewing the end of my pen. “Boarder’s block?” he joked.
“Kinda,” I admitted.
He nodded. “I hear that. When I first went pro, all my friends wanted to hear about were the shows and the competitions. But the best parts of my trips were always these random stories and not stuff I could explain in postcards. Like once, I was so tired after a day of practice that I fell asleep standing in the hotel elevator.”
“No way!”
“Way. And you haven’t heard the best part … I didn’t wake up till my head slid and set off the fire alarm button. Now that’s funny stuff. But I don’t know if it’s postcard worthy. Friends want to hear about the action, the competitions, you know?”
Not my friends, I thought. The BSG loved letters from the heart. I sipped my hot chocolate. Now that it was a little cooler, I could taste its yumminess. But it was still no Montoya’s.
DK looked over my shoulder. “Maybe I can help?” He picked up the pen.
“Sure!” I slid a postcard over to him and watched. First, he drew a mountain with two stick-figure people at the bottom holding the leashes of two stick-figure dogs. (My kind of artwork!) The taller of the figures had a big puff of hair, and the other had a low side-ponytail. Hah! He was obviously drawing us! Under his picture he wrote “Master of Crud” and under mine he wrote “Snurfette.” He signed, “Boogie on, DK” and left a space for me.
“Your turn,” he said.
I wrote, “Miss you! Having an awesome time on the slopes. Love, Avery!” Wow. Wait till the BSG found out that their cards had been doodled on and signed by the Golden Egg himself! Even if they didn’t know much about snowboarding celebs, they’d understand how cool this was. We finished up with Maeve’s card just in time for DK’s breakfast.
“The Waffle Mountain?” said the waiter, sliding a plate in front of DK. It was, honest-to-goodness, the biggest stack of waffles I’d ever laid eyes on. There were three Belgian waffles, all equally thick, but the bottom one was the biggest. It looked like a little earthquake had just created a small mountain of dough right in the middle of Maggie’s.
“That’s the sweetest mountain I’ve ever seen,” DK whispered to me. “Too bad I left my board in my truck.”
I laughed and then stopped when I spotted the clock on the wall. It was already ten. I had to jet! Too bad I couldn’t stick around to see Waffle Mountain devoured. “I really have to run now,” I told DK. “Thanks so much for your help.”
“Hey, no prob, Snurfette. Tell your pops hi for me!”
I slurped down the rest of my hot chocolate and left two dollars on the counter. DK picked it up and put it back in my hand.
“My treat,” he said. “If it wasn’t for the Snurfman, I wouldn’t get to be in Telluride in the first place.”
“Thanks!” I exclaimed. “See you on the mountain!” And I bolted out of the store, barely slowing down to untie Marty and pull him along after me.
I jogged all the way to ATS Sports with a huge smile frozen on my face, and it wasn’t because of the cold weather. I couldn’t help that I was still ridiculously excited from my close encounter of the snowboard-star-kind!
But that smile disappeared the second I opened the door to ATS. The first person I saw inside was Kazie. She was slumped over the counter by the register and staring into space—totally zoned out. And she didn’t look too thrilled to see me.
“Hi, what’s up?” I asked. Might as well try to be friendly, right?
“Nothing.” Kazie groaned. “Absolutely nothing. There was no reason for me to come to work this morning.”
I looked at her strangely. “Why not?” I asked.
“Someone took over my job,” she informed me in a cold voice.
Just then the door to the back room opened, and Jason walked out with a box of ski goggles in his arms. “Hey, Avery!” he called.
“Hi, Jason! This is Marty.”
“Nice to meet you, Marty.” Jason rubbed Marty’s nose and let
Marty slobber as much as he wanted. M-Dawg was so friendly he was already giving Jason wet kisses all over his feet … and Jason didn’t mind a bit!
“Sorry I took so long, but guess who I met on the way here?” I asked as I helped Jason unload. “I’ll give you a clue: Think famous.”
“Umm …” Jason furrowed his brows, which made me notice his super-blue eyes again. Stop staring before he thinks you’re a total weirdo! I told myself and concentrated on the goggle project instead. “Tom Cruise?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“Doesn’t he live around here … ?”
I shook my head. “I dunno. Even if he did … movie stars are my friend Maeve’s thing, not mine. Guess again.”
Jason shrugged. “I give up. Who?”
“Donnie Keeler!” The blank look on Jason’s face told me that he had a lot to learn about snowboarding. “You know … the Olympic gold medalist … ?”
“DONNIE KEELER?” Two yellow pigtails shot up from behind the register. Today Kazie was wearing her hair in braids with orange ribbons twisted in as an extra touch. “You met the Golden Egg?” Kazie hurtled out from behind the counter and headed right toward us. I was afraid she was going to topple me, but she stopped right before that happened.
“Well, yeah. You know he’s here for the Snurfer.”
“Sure, but … why was he just walking around Telluride? He should come HERE to ATS and … and … meet ME!”
It’s probably crazy fans like you that DK’s afraid of! I thought, but I didn’t tell Kazie that. Jason was looking at us like we’d both lost it. “He’s just a chill guy, Kazie. We got waffles from Maggie’s, that new diner. Well, he got waffles. I just got a hot chocolate and wrote some postcards.” Kazie looked like her head was going to pop off! Then I remembered something. “Oh, no!” I cried and smacked my forehead.
“What’s wrong?” asked Jason.
I’d been in such a rush to leave Maggie’s that I had forgotten to take the postcards with me. I’d just have to tell the BSG about the adventure myself. “Never mind,” I replied. But the postcards reminded me of something else that was missing. “Hey, you haven’t seen my ear warmer by any chance, have you?”
“Ear warmer?” Jason asked.
I grabbed one off the shelf and waved it. “It looks kinda like this …”
“Oh, you mean your headband. Nope. Haven’t seen it since last night. But I’ll stay on the lookout.”
I shrugged. “Well, thanks anyway. Hey, are you almost done around here?”
Jason thought for a moment. “Um … there are kind of a lot of boxes that I have to count and stuff …”
“Which can wait till another day.” Dad stepped out from the back room just in time. “Don’t you think it’s about time you kids hit the slopes?”
I punched the air, suddenly psyched to start the day. “Really? Thanks, Dad!”
“Hey, don’t thank me. Thank Jason. He’s a hard worker,” Dad said, and looked at Jason with a serious face. “Jason, what would you think about a semipermanent job here on the weekends?”
Jason looked down, embarrassed and proud at the same time. “Really, Mr. M? That’d be great …”
The Snurfman strikes again! My dad was one awesome dude. Dad brushed his hands together. “Then it’s settled.”
“Okay, I’m going to pick out a board for you,” I decided. I knew just the one—blue sky background with a brown hawk on the bottom. Jason’s eyes got huge the minute he saw it.
Dad jingled his keys. “Ride to the mountain?” he offered with a smile.
“Sweet!” I exclaimed, high-fiving him. I looked out the window and took a deep breath. Telluride Ski Resort, here we come!
CHAPTER
12
Goofy-Footed
I can’t believe I wiped out again. Just when I thought I was getting the hang of this!” Jason was lying flat on his back on the bunny slope. “Remind me one more time why I agreed to go snowboarding?”
“This isn’t snowboarding,” I said, sliding back and forth on my board to stay balanced. “This is falling … and everybody falls on their first day. You’ve got to chill, dude.”
Jason tried to get up and slipped. He tried to get up again, slipped again, and sighed. “Forget it!” He sat dejectedly on the snow as other kids skied and boarded past us.
“Come on, Jason. You’re doing awesomely, I swear!” I reached out and helped Jason get back on his feet.
“Well then, why are all the rugrats going so much faster than me? They look like they’re Frankie’s age.”
“Younger, probably.” I scanned the little balls of color flying by. “I dunno. Kids always ski fast. They don’t have any fear, you know? If they fall, it’s not far for them to go. Trust me—I’m a shortie. I know these things.”
Jason sighed and brushed the snow off his coat. “Okay. What next?”
“Follow me,” I said. I slowly carved my way to the bottom of the hill. My path was like a long, curvy snake. I kept checking over my shoulder to make sure Jason was okay. But actually, he was better than okay. Jason was on his feet and boarding. It was so cool.
We got to the bottom and I slowed to a stop. Jason fell over backward again—that was how all beginners stopped. “Ahhh!” he groaned.
“Sweeet run!” I high-fived Jason, and he smiled. I could tell he was having fun again. We rode the lift back up and I let Jason lead the way to the bottom. After five perfect (well … almost perfect) runs, Jason was getting the hang of it. He even started to show off a little bit by snowboarding backward. That’s when I knew it was time.
“Are you shreddy for the gondola?” I asked.
“Am I what for the what?”
Oops. I kept forgetting that Jason didn’t know all my boarding expressions yet. “How about trying a green circle slope?” I wanted to make sure he felt comfortable before we went on a harder slope.
Jason shrugged. “You think I’m ready?”
“Sure! The question is … do you think you’re ready?”
Jason didn’t say a word, but smiled and took off, sliding right down to the gondola line. Wow! My lessons were paying off.
We got in line behind a group of guys. They looked like they were our age but they didn’t say hi to us. They were too busy messing around. One kid picked up a handful of snow and slipped it into the back of another one’s coat. “Hey, quit it!” the second kid screeched, squirming to get the snow out. I laughed—that was seriously the oldest trick in the book. My older brothers used to get me with it plenty of times … that is, until I learned how to get revenge!
I looked at Jason and rubbed my hands together mischievously. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned. Smart of him … definitely.
Jason didn’t look too thrilled when we had to share a gondola with these kids, though. They shoved their snowboards into the side and hopped right on. I put mine in too and stepped back for Jason. Uh-oh. Jason was still stuck in his bindings!
“Yo, hurry up, Jason! You’re going to miss it!” called one of the guys. Weird—I guess they did know him after all. The chairlift attendant helped Jason out, but by the time he was done, Jason’s cheeks were bright red. He slipped into the car just before the door slammed shut.
“Nice save,” I breathed. Jason’s expression didn’t look too happy anymore.
The three guys sat there without saying a word—not even a “hey”—as the cable yanked us high above the trees. Jason stared silently out the window.
“So Jas, what brings you ‘round these parts?” one of the kids finally asked. It was the one who played the snow-down-the-back trick.
“Yeah … where’s your pet rat?” asked another. They cracked up.
Jason glowered at the kid. “He’s not a rat, he’s a ferret,” he muttered.
The boys chuckled. “I thought you didn’t dig shredding,” challenged the first one.
Jason shrugged. “Maybe I do.”
“Yeah,” I added. “He’s allowed to change his mind, you know.”<
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“What do you know! It’s kiddie day at Telluride!” said the third kid … to me. I didn’t care when the BSG teased me about my height, but these three random dudes? Noooo way.
I slapped my knee. “Wow, that’s hilarious! Because I’m short, right? I look like a little kid! Oh, boy, that’s a good one. How original!” I pretended to laugh hysterically and then stopped mid-laugh. Now I really had their attention. Jason’s, too!
I leaned in close and squinted my eyes to show I meant business. “Listen. I might be small but that doesn’t mean I can’t shred.”
Two of the guys seemed a little nervous, but the one in the middle leaned in and squinted too. “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re so great, then why haven’t we seen you here before?”
“Yeah!” the other guys mumbled.
“‘Cause … I’m not from here. I’m from Boston,” I replied. “I’m visiting my dad for the Snurfer Competition.”
All the guys burst out laughing. “That’s what you think. No grommets allowed in this competition! Snurfman rules!”
I was just about to set them straight when Jason blurted, “Well, guess what? Her dad IS the Snurfman!”
Whoa. That was a surprise. I glanced at him and smiled. He smiled back.
One of the guys whispered something to another and then said, “Your dad’s the Snurfman? No way. You don’t look anything like the Snurfman!”
I felt my throat tense up. I took a deep breath and tried to remember to do what Mom always taught me: be proud of who I was. “Duh, I’m adopted,” I said coolly.
They shut up instantly. “Sorry,” murmured the one who made the comment.
“It’s okay,” I told him. It wasn’t totally okay … but I knew that sometimes people said things without thinking about them. I mean, I did it all the time. “I’m Korean-American,” I explained. “My parents got me when I was a baby.”
“My cousin Lydia’s adopted,” said the kid in the middle. “I don’t even think about it most of the time.”
