The Magic Nation Thing

by Zilpha Keatley Snyder

  Or what if it worked in a way that didn't make clear just what she was seeing? After all, there were more than thirty lifts in Squaw Valley. What if she just saw Paige's snowboard hunks going down a run somewhere? Somewhere, but where? For instance, when she'd seen Miranda at Disneyland, she wouldn't have known where Miranda was if she hadn't been so familiar with the place. It wasn't as if there'd been a big finger pointing to a DISNEYLAND sign. And she didn't remember seeing signs along the ski runs either. No big road signs saying YOU ARE NOW HALFWAY DOWN SQUAW ONE EXPRESS or RED DOG.

  When she finally sank into a restless sleep, she had a long scary nightmare in which she was trying to catch up with a lot of people on snowboards who, just as she almost got to them, kept taking off and flying through the air like remote-controlled model planes. And then she was the one holding the remote, and people were yelling at her to keep the flying snowboards from crashing into each other. Daylight came at last and Paige was shaking her, saying, “Hey. Wake up.”

  Breakfast at the cabin had always been fun, if rather hectic. It was what Paige's dad called Every Man for Himself. That meant you had to pick something out of the freezer or refrigerator and zap or toast or boil it all by yourself. It seemed to be a favorite time of the day for all the Bordens, which was probably because it was such a novelty. At home nobody fooled around much in Ludmilla's kitchen, not even Paige's mom.

  Watching little old Sky get a carton of orange juice out of the refrigerator and pour it very carefully into a glass reminded Abby of how she'd rescued him from being “zkinned alive,” and it must have reminded Sky too, because when he noticed Abby watching him, he went into a blushing, blinking, squirming fit. And then, staring at Abby adoringly, he went on pouring until his glass filled up and slopped over. While she was helping him mop up the large orange juice puddle, Woody started teasing.

  “Roses are red, violets are blue, Sky's got a girlfriend, and I know who,” Woody was chanting when Sky threw a sponge at him. Of course Woody threw it back, and no telling what might have happened next if Mr. Borden hadn't walked into the room.

  As soon as a certain amount of eating was accomplished, there was what Mr. Borden called an Area Beautification Project, which meant that everyone had five minutes to clean up whatever mess they'd made, before they all got into their jackets and helmets and ran out to the SUV. Halfway down the drive they had to stop and back up so that Woody could go back for his gloves, but then, at last, they were off.

  As the SUV slipped and slid over the snowy road that led to the village, Abby was, as always on the first day of skiing, quivering with excitement. Except that this time some of the quivering might have been caused by a feeling that was more like nervousness. Nervousness about what was going to happen as soon as they were out of the car and on their own.

  While they had been getting dressed that morning, and later in the kitchen, Paige hadn't mentioned the words napkin or Magic Nation, and she went on not mentioning them as she and Abby were getting out of the car, telling Daphne and Sher to have a great day, and escorting Woody and Sky to the Children's Center.

  At the center, while they waited for the boys' instructor to arrive, Paige went on chattering about her new boots and what kind of helmets she hated because they made you look like a big-headed alien. However, Abby had a distinct feeling there was something else behind all the chatter just waiting for the right moment. But the moment hadn't arrived before the instructor showed up and turned out to be one they knew: the same Ms. David who'd started Abby out her first year at Squaw and who'd made such a fuss over what a natural she was.

  So there were a lot of “How are you?”s and “What have you been doing?”s and questions about whether she and Paige would be having lessons again that year. So much talk that Abby had almost forgotten to be nervous by the time she and Paige finally were left alone to head out toward the nearest lift. But sure enough, the minute they were by themselves, Paige grabbed Abby's arm and pulled her to a stop. Shifting her skis and poles around to get her right hand free, Paige reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a big piece of heavy white cloth—the Plump Jack's napkin. “Okay,” she demanded. “Let's see what you can find out.”

  Abby tried to argue. Her first argument was, why? “What good is it going to do? I mean, even if we find out what run those guys are going to be on today and we go there, what makes you think we're going to …I mean, that they're going to …The thing is, Paige, what makes you think those guys will be interested in us?”

  Paige was indignant. “Why shouldn't they be interested?” “I don't know, but it seems to me they might be looking for girls their own age.”

  “Their own age? What do you mean? I'll bet we're as old as they are, or at least just about. They've got to be teenagers, and so are we.”

  “We're teenagers?” Abby couldn't help smiling.

  “Sure we are,” Paige said. “Almost.” Abby would be thirteen in March and Paige not until May.

  “Well, teenagers or not—” Abby was beginning when Paige cut her short. Shoving the napkin back into her pocket, Paige turned her back and started to stomp off. Abby hurried after her. “All right,” she said as she caught up. “I'll try. I didn't say I wouldn't try. But …” She stopped, looking around at the crowds of people scurrying past in every direction, most of them carrying skis or snowboards. “I'll have to put my skis down somewhere so I can take off my gloves and hold it in both hands and …”

  Paige nodded. “Oh yeah, right,” she said. And then, after a moment's thought, “Follow me.”

  Back at the lodge in the ladies' restroom, Paige pulled the Plump Jack's napkin out of her pocket and was about to hand it to Abby when two women walked in …and then another one … and then two more. So finally Abby wound up trying to do the Magic Nation thing in one of the toilet booths while Paige waited right outside. While ski-booted strangers stomped in and out of the booths on each side of Abby, Paige thumped impatiently on the door, whispering, “What's happening? What did you see?”

  It wasn't that she didn't try. Clutching the napkin in both hands and shutting her eyes, Abby tried as hard as she could to imagine the beginning of the spinning darkness and the growing warmth in her palms. But absolutely nothing happened. The napkin went on feeling smooth and cool, and the only thing Abby managed to see was the darkness behind her closed eyelids. At last she had to give up and open the door to Paige's eager eyes and questions.

  “Okay,” Paige demanded. “What did you see? Where are they?”

  What happened next was the worst quarrel Abby and Paige had ever had. It began the minute Abby said she didn't see anything.

  Paige stared at her in obvious disbelief. “How come?” she demanded. “What's wrong with this napkin?” She shook it in Abby's face. “It's just the kind of thing you said ought to work. You just didn't try.”

  “Yes, I did,” Abby said. “I tried as hard as I could. I did try. I did.”

  But Paige only curled her lip and nodded knowingly. “I get it,” she said. “You didn't try because you weren't interested. The trouble is, we just don't seem to be interested in the same kinds of things anymore. I guess it's just that you're too immature.”

  When Abby pointed out that she was older by two and a half months, Paige just snorted and said, “Well, in months maybe, but …” Paige was staring at Abby's chest as she went on. “Different people mature faster than others, right?” She obviously meant she had more of a figure than Abby did, which wasn't really fair because, as Abby knew, and as Paige knew she knew, Paige wore a padded training bra. The only reason Abby didn't was that Dorcas felt it was an “unnecessary expense for a skinny twelve-year-old.” Actually Dorcas had said, “a very slender twelve-year-old,” but skinny was what she'd meant.

  And what Paige also meant was that Abby wasn't interested in people of the opposite sex, which wasn't true either. It was just that having gone to a girls' school all her life, plus living in a neighborhood that didn't have many kids, Abby hadn't had many experien
ces where boys were concerned. Except for the ones she'd had with Paige's brothers, none of which were particularly maturing.

  The argument wound up with Paige saying, “Well, since some people are so much slower to mature than other people, maybe there's no reason for us to go on being friends.” So Abby said—because what else could she say?—“Fine. If that's the way you feel about it, we'll just stop being friends. I guess I'll get a ride to Truckee and get on the first bus going to San Francisco.”

  But Paige said, “Now you're just being silly. You know my folks would never let you do that. But just remember, as soon as this trip is over, that's it! You'd better—both of us better—start looking for someone else to be best friends with.”

  So when they got to the Gold Coast lift and Paige got in line, Abby asked if she should go to another lift and Paige said, “No. Of course not. If we did that we'd have to explain it all to my folks tonight and that would wind up being a total mess. So come on. But just remember, we're not speaking.”

  So that was how the day went, with Paige and Abby riding the lift up at more or less the same time and skiing down more or less together, but being very careful not to say anything to, or even look at, each other—and even sitting on opposite sides of the restaurant when they went for lunch.

  For a while Abby was feeling too miserable to really enjoy the skiing, but soon the bright, beautiful day, and the sleek new snow, not too dry and fluffy and not too hard and icy, and the wonderful freedom to swoop and slide and almost fly began to wipe out her bad mood. All except the part of it that concerned Paige.

  That night at dinner, which was pizza and salad around the kitchen table, there was a lot of talk, most of it about skiing. Paige's mom and dad went on and on about how many times they'd done the Olympic Lady of the KT-22 run and how great it was, and Woody talked about what they'd had for lunch at the Children's Center, and Sky, who was using poles for the first time, had a lot to say about his new poles and how much more fun skiing was when you were old enough to use poles. And Paige and Abby mentioned the lifts they'd tried out and how great it was to get back to skiing. And if the two of them didn't say anything at all directly to each other, no one seemed to notice.

  The next day was about the same. Abby and Paige got up at the same time in the same room and went through breakfast and the ride to the lifts without saying anything to each other except for absolutely necessary questions and answers such as “Did you see my sunblock?” “Yes, it's in the bathroom.” And on that day, just as on the one before, they saw a great many snowboarders, but none of them were the ones Paige was looking for.

  After dinner, so as not to spend any more time than necessary alone in the room with Paige, Abby started spending more time with the boys, particularly Sky. They played a bunch of board and card games, and Abby found out that Sky was really a sharp little kid, especially when it came to things that depended on having a good memory. Usually Woody chose to play with his Game Boy, but once or twice he wanted to play board games too, which often caused trouble, like it had the time when Woody won the checkers game they were playing and Abby told him he was a great checkers player—at which point Sky kicked the board over and ran out of the room.

  “Dumb kid,” Woody said.

  When Abby said, “Oh well, most six-year-olds are bad losers,” Woody shrugged. “Oh, Sky's an all right loser. What he can't stand is …” He stopped and did one of his fiendish grins. “It's all your fault,” he said. “What made him so mad was that you said somebody else was great. That's what turned him into a green-eyed monster.”

  That night when she got into bed, Abby thought over what Woody had said and decided he'd been right. Where Abby was concerned, Sky really could be a “green-eyed monster.” Looking across the room to where Paige was sleeping, or pretending to, Abby sighed and thought, Well, at least somebody still likes me.

  THE NEXT MORNING, the third since Paige and Abby had stopped speaking to each other, the phone rang while everyone was having breakfast. Paige's mom went to answer it, and when she came back she looked worried. “Well,” she said. “I guess we have a problem. It seems Ms. David can only be at the Children's Center this morning, so the juniors' afternoon classes will be canceled.” She turned to Paige's dad. “I guess we won't be doing Granite Chief today, Sher. I'd better call the Emersons and let them know we won't be joining them.”

  Abby had heard of the Emersons before. They were some skiing friends who, like the Bordens, were really expert skiers. “Unless …” Daphne Borden paused, looking at Paige. “Unless you and Abby think you could handle being in charge of the boys this afternoon. We could be back to take over around four o'clock.”

  Paige sighed and said she guessed so.

  “After they have lunch you could take them to the Papoose area and just keep an eye on them while they practice,” Daphne went on. “Would that be all right with you?” she asked Abby.

  “Sure,” Abby said. “It's okay with me.” She looked across the table to where Sky was drinking milk out of his cereal bowl. Over the edge of the bowl his blue eyes were wide, and when he put the bowl down, so was his milky grin. “Sure,” Abby said again. “It'll be fun, won't it, Sky?”

  “But didn't the weather report say that it might snow today? What happens if it starts to get really stormy?” Paige asked.

  “Well, in that case we'll all knock off for the day,” Daphne said. “If it starts looking bad just get the boys in out of the cold and wait for us in the center. And we'll all go home and roast marshmallows in the fireplace.”

  So that was the plan, and as far as Abby was concerned, it sounded okay. Not great, of course, since she and Paige would have to spend the afternoon fooling around with the boys in an almost flat area set aside for beginners. But at least they would be out in the snow, and—who knew?—maybe if they had to work together at babysitting, Paige would forget about the not-speaking thing at least for a while. Abby was feeling fairly optimistic as she and Paige and the boys climbed out of the SUV, waved good-bye to the adults, and headed for the Children's Center.

  That morning was more of the same. Abby and Paige rode the same chair lifts, skied down at more or less the same time, and ate lunch at the same café but at different tables. And when Paige finally spoke to her, it was only to say, “Okay. I guess we'd better go pick up the monsters.”

  After they checked the boys out and got to the Papoose area, a wide easy slope set aside for beginners, everything was all right—for a while. On their way to the top of the slight rise, Sky kept stopping to fuss with his new ski poles. When they finally got to the top, they schussed down not exactly at top downhill speed, but fast enough to make Sky squeal with excitement. But after a while the fact that Woody came down fast—and teased Sky as he went by—began to bother him. “Hey, slowpoke,” Woody yelled, “get a move on.”

  After the third trip down, Sky began to fret. “Let's not ski with them,” he said, looking toward Paige and Woody, who were starting to climb again. “There, let's go over there.” He was pointing to another fairly flat area.

  Abby should have noticed that the slope Sky was pointing to was the end of another run, a longer and steeper one, and that the whole area was crisscrossed with deep tracks where other skiers and snowboarders had come to rapid stops. But no one was in sight at the moment, and in the last few yards the drop was fairly gentle, so …

  “Okay, Sky,” she said, “let's go over there.” And that was when the trouble started.

  Abby and Sky had barely started poling their way across the area when suddenly someone yelled, “Watch it!” and what looked like a whole army of snowboarders came flying over the nearest ridge. Snowboard riders sailed through the air all around them, kicking up clouds of snow as they landed. Abby was trying to pull Sky back toward the trees when another snowboard rider zoomed into view practically over their heads, landing so close that snow flew all around them. Abby yelled and Sky screamed and for several seconds everything was mass confusion. The two of them were q
uickly surrounded by a bunch of tall guys in black jackets who were crowding around, pushing each other and asking questions such as “What are you kids doing on this run?” and “Anybody hurt?” and then “No harm done. Let's catch the next lift.”

  Most of them picked up their boards and stomped off, but two guys, including the one who had almost collided with Abby, were still hanging around. Abby was trying to tell them it was her fault and she was sorry and she shouldn't have let Sky talk her into moving over there from the Papoose area. And then all of a sudden Paige and Woody were there too.

  “What happened?” Paige looked and sounded frantic, or else very excited. “Did you guys hurt somebody?”

  One of the two snowboarders, a slightly familiar-looking guy with blond hair and a wide funny grin, threw up his hands. “No sir. I mean, no ma'am. Nobody's hurt. Don't shoot.”

  Paige grinned back and said, “Why not? There's so many of you snowboard dudes. Don't think anyone would miss one or two.”

  The other guy laughed and said, “You got something against snowboarders?”

  And Paige said, “No, I guess not. At least not as long as they don't land on my little brother.”

  The shorter guy, the one with a bunch of curly hair hanging out from under his helmet, asked Abby, “What about you? Do you hate snowboarders too?”

  And Abby said no, she didn't, and before long they'd all moved to the far side of the run, near the trees, and the two guys, whose names turned out to be Alex and Pablo, were showing Abby and Paige how their feet went on the board and what they did with their bodies to control their speed and direction. Actually they didn't say much that Abby and Paige hadn't heard before, but you'd never know it from the things Paige was saying. Things like “And then what do you do?” and “Really? I never knew that.”

  Paige was making it obvious that she was very interested, either in snowboarding or possibly in certain people who did it. She asked a lot of questions about what board and boots were the best and how long it took to learn if you already were an expert skier. “Like,” she told the two guys, “Abby and I have been skiing since were were rugrats. We were thinking of doing the Fingers today if we hadn't been drafted as babysitters.”