"I did it," I whispered to myself, a white puff rising from my lips. "I did it," I said again, not quite believing it.

Bren came skidding up beside me.

"See?" He said. "You made it. You can quit now, if you want to."

But I didn't want to. I had made it down. A few minutes before, I couldn't do it, and now I could. It felt like a bolt sliding open on a heavy door.

"I didn't even fall," I said.

"You will." He said this as if it was something to look forward to.

"Or not," I said with a nervous laugh.

He smiled. "Time for the lift."

He reached out a hand to help me up and I hesitated.

"What?"

I opened my mouth to say Brianna's name and changed my mind. "A friend of mine said this was the worst lift to get off of."

He smiled again, this time with a little self-satisfaction. "Obviously, your friend wasn't with me."

I didn't know how to answer that one.

He put his hand out again.

"I can do it," I said.

"It's harder on the flats."

I raised my arm, imagining disaster as I slid around trying to heave myself to standing, but he pulled me up without any effort at all and held onto me while I unbuckled my back foot.

At the lift, he told me to wait until a chair had turned the corner and was just in front of us, then move forward quickly for the next one. He held my arm until we sat. As we started up the hill, I let out a relieved sigh and reached up for the bar.

"We don't need that," he said, waving it off.

I didn't want to seem like a snow geek, if there was such a thing, so I left the bar up and gripped the side of the chair. I didn't like watching the ground fall away with nothing in front of me.

"Don't worry," he said. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

And then the next horrible thought.

"I don't know how to get off this thing."

"When I tell you, just slide your board onto the snow and put your back foot on your stomp pad."

"Stomp pad."

"The rubber thing in front of your back binding."

I looked down, trying not to see the hill far beneath us.

"Oh." I turned to him. "But most people fall. I've seen it. It's a mess."

"You won't."

Then he opened his eyes and looked at me, the snow whipping between us. He smiled. "Don't worry so much."

I smiled back, and worried.

As the booth came into view at the top, I started to panic. I took a deep breath and held it. No Fear. The ground got closer, and just as I found a measure of relief in the fact that I wouldn't die if I fell from our current height, the back side of the ramp passed underneath us and it was time to get off.

I froze for a moment and felt Bren grab my arm with the hand furthest away from me. Wondering that he was still on the chair at that angle, I let the front of my board land on the snow and glide forward. Bren pulled at me and I took that as a cue to stand up. Once I did, I found the stomp pad with my back foot and let the board start down the ramp. The tip caught in the snow and I whimpered as I felt the back of the board lift, sure I was going to crash, but then Bren pressed his hand into my back, the other still holding my arm, and the ride felt smooth again.

"You're okay," he said from behind me, "just lean on your front edge until we stop."

And we did, just a few feet from the lift. Still standing.

He bent and unbuckled his bindings, and then did mine. When he stood, his hair was disheveled and his cheeks were even redder than before.

"So?" He said.

Snow danced all around him, sticking to him and dissolving on his skin. He looked at home in the cold, like he'd melt anywhere else.

"So." I said. "I'm Jenna, by the way. I guess you knew that."

He nodded.

"Bren?" I asked when he didn't tell me.

A smile played on his lips for a moment, then faded. His eyes slid to the side - as though he was listening for something - and his jaw tightened.

"What's the matter?"

He remained still, a crease forming between his brows. Finally, he looked up at me. "I have to go. I'm sorry. Don't ride anymore tonightait's dangerous alone." He picked up his board and held it in that shield clutch. "I'll walk you back."

I shook my head. I didn't want to go in yet, didn't want my mother to catch me with a stupid grin on my face. And I wanted time to relive things.

"I'm going to stay out here for a while."

He glanced at the board by my feet and then back up at me.

"Don't worry," I said, "I'm done for the night."

He pointed at me, backing away. "I hope I can trust you." A hint of smirk still played in his expression. Then he turned and began to walk faster, disappearing into the flurry.

I sat at the top of the bunny hill and stared down, my perspective new and different. That someone like Bren would be interested in a girl like Brianna didn't quite make sense to me, but I supposed that if what Sydney said was true, then Brianna would be the same to him as any girl. And so would I, maybe.

Taking the helmet off, I glanced up at the lift, realizing for the first time how close I had been to him. I was too scared to be aware of it in the moment, and now I remembered how strong and warm his hands were, even through his gloves and my puffy jacket, remembered the sound of his voice when he first found me lying in the snow, the way he had pointed and smiled at me as the distance grew between us. But this was the gushing and obsessing that girls like Brianna did over guys who did not even care about them, and now that I had had a few minutes of weakness, I would go back to my room and forget these things. Bury them in a book or homework. I had not come out here for help. I would learn on my own or not at all. And the next time I saw Bren, the first thing I would do is give him his helmet back.

Chapter 6.

I looked for Bren all weekend, helmet in hand, but couldn't find him anywhere. I could have bought my own helmet in the meantime -- I had a ton of babysitting money saved up and my own debit card -- but I decided that his had worked just fine to keep my brain in, at least temporarily.

I could now make my way down the bunny hill on my front and back edges, but not without a lot of falling, both on the hill and getting off the lift. Things weren't as easy as they had been that first night, but I had become a bit obsessed, and as a result, bruises covered both my knees as well as my arms and shoulders. I had also twisted my right ankle at some point, and since I had injured it over and over again in my childhood adventures, starting with a bad sprain I got jumping off my neighbor's second floor porch into a pile of leaves, I knew it wasn't really going to heal as long as I was learning, so I tried to ignore it. I woke up with my muscles screaming on Monday morning, but it was a good pain. I got ready for school in slow motion as I waited to loosen up.

My mother frowned at me from her post at the counter as I lowered myself into a chair at our little kitchen table and plunged my spoon into my cereal.

"What's wrong? Why are you moving like that?" She asked.

"Because I hurt." I smiled up at her to let her know it wasn't serious. "I've been learning how to ride."

Her eyes widened for a moment before she grinned back. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's just been this past weekend." I shoved a spoonful of milky flakes into my mouth.

She curled two pearl-tipped fingers through her coffee mug handle and took a sip, gazing thoughtfully into the cup, then asked, "you just started up on your own?"

"Kind of," I said, swallowing. "I started to start, but it wasn't really going that well. Then one of the instructors mercifully offered to help me."

"Really?" She raised a brow.

"Just the first night." I glanced back down into my bowl. "You were right, I needed a lesson."

"From whom?"

"I told you, an instructor."

"Which one?"

"Does it matter?"

"Just curious."

"His name is Bren."

"Brena"

"Bergan. I think."

"Ah." She took another sip of coffee. "They live here. The Bergans. Don't they?"

I shrugged. "I guess so."

"And how old is this Bren?"

I always cringed when she referred to people like thatathis Bren or that Emilyalike she was talking about something she wanted to rid us of. I have to address this oil leak, or we have to deal with that mold situation on the side of the house.

I shrugged again. "I don't know. My age." When she didn't answer, I looked up at her. "Why?"

"I'm so glad you decided to try it," she said. "I just think maybe it would be better if you learned from somebody with a little more experience."

"It was one night, for a few minutes. And anyway, I haven't seen anyone here ride better."

"To be fair, you're not exactly an expert on the subject."

"To be fair," I said, staring down into my bowl, "neither are you."

I felt her glare.

"What?" I said. "Do you want me to get some geezer to give me lessons, and hope I learn before he falls and breaks his hip?"

I glanced up. She had her arms folded across her chest now, but her thoughts were elsewhere. After a moment, she focused again.

"So do we need to pay this boy?"

"No," I said, "it was a freebie."

"I see. Well, I want you to be careful." She turned to top off her coffee, wrapped her hands around the mug, and stepped away from the counter. "We should get you to school."

By the time I got to the lunch table, Brianna was already talking at full throttle to anyone who would listen, but mostly to Tyler. She had strayed from her usual seat and now hovered at the other end of the bench, chatting up at him as he tore huge bites out of a sub and swallowed some of them without chewing.

"And your dad already paid so it's definitely ours?" She asked.

He nodded. "Definitely."

"So I can tell people?"

"Yes, you can tell people, as long as you tell people to bring their own alcohol because they're not drinking mine. And no freaks. I don't want anyone spasing out and getting us all in trouble."

She smacked his arm. "I don't hang out with any freaks."

He gulped down another bite. "You are a freak."

"Oh, so you don't want me there?" She raised her brows and grinned.

He studied the last bit of his sandwich. "You will be tolerated. I guess."

She rolled her eyes, pulled her legs out from under the table, and stood up. Then she gave him a light swat on the back of the head - which he pretended not to feel - and returned to the rest of us.

*What?" Dillon asked.