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Calum has never been so terrified in his entire life. It’s a crisp, cold morning in Alpine Meadows, and Calum is maybe going to throw up. He stares down the daunting slope, clenching and unclenching his fists as best he can with the industrial grade gloves he has on. His nine-year-old hands are small enough; these gloves make it almost impossible for him to move his fingers.
Not that moving his fingers is a super necessary thing while skiing. It’s just something he’s used to being able to do, and now that he can’t, it’s making him kind of uncomfortable. Skiing makes him kind of uncomfortable.
His family only skiis one week a year, and so every Monday of Ski Week, he has to relearn everything he’s forgotten since last time. And he always forgets everything, and since neither his parents nor his sister have the patience to deal with reteaching him, he has to go to Ski School.
Calum is not a big fan of Ski School.
The instructors are always going on and on about pizza and french fry, and right when all Calum can think about is how much he would really like to eat lunch, he gets pushed down a mountain with a bunch of other kids who are a lot braver and louder, leaving him to trail slowly behind all alone.
Calum actually voiced these grievances to his mother last night in a last-ditch attempt to get out of going to Ski School. It was a performance that included a fair amount of screaming, with a bit of yelling thrown in to shake things up.
Clearly, it didn’t work. She just told him to ask for help when he needs it, and that everything would be fine. But she doesn’t get it. Any time Calum has asked for help at Ski School, he hasn’t been heard. No one ever listens to Calum because he isn’t loud enough. That’s what he has Michael for, except that Michael got put in the other Junior Snow Patrol Level group, and they’re not even gonna see each other until the end of the day.
Now, Calum finds himself at the top of his first green mountain on his first day of ski school this year, alone, watching his group mates start to make their way slowly down. Well, some slowly. A few of them missed the memo on pizza and are french frying their way back to the chairlift at turbo speed.
Calum’s tummy feels bad. He knows he’s supposed to push over the flat edge of the hill and go onto the steep part, but he doesn’t want to do that. What if he goes too fast and can’t stop? He knows he’s supposed to pizza, but what if that’s not enough to slow him down? How is he gonna stop? What if he never does?
“I don’t— I need help,” he says, as loud as he can, but the wind whips it away from him. He clenches his fists as hard as he can, but his fingers still barely bend. He wants to go home.
“What was that, little dude?”
There’s the sound of skis chafing softly across icy morning snow, and then someone is ducking into Calum’s vision.
It’s Instructor Luke.
Earlier this morning, Instructor Luke said to call him Just Luke, smiling around a peanut butter CLIF bar as he explained their plan for the day, but Calum doesn’t know if he wants to do that. Instructor Luke seems too old to be Just Luke. He even has a beard. He also has blue eyes and blond curls poking out around his beanie.
Calum doesn’t trust Instructor Luke. Calum doesn’t trust anyone who likes skiing as much as Instructor Luke does.
“What do you need help with?” Instructor Luke asks, searching Calum’s eyes gently. Instructor Luke’s eyes look a lot like the sky. That’s kind of cool.
“I need— I can’t remember how to pizza,” Calum says. “I don’t remember pizza.”
“Okay, hey— Calum, right?”
Calum nods. He’s a little surprised Instructor Luke remembers his name.
“Okay, Calum, here’s what we’re gonna do. In a little bit, as soon as you’re ready, you and I are gonna drop off this ledge, and then we’re gonna point the tips of our skis together like this, yeah?”
Instructor Luke angles his skis inwards, into a sort of triangle that looks like—
“Pizza!” Calum says, thrilled to recognize the position.
“Right on the money, little dude,” Luke says. He smiles, and Calum feels immensely proud of himself. “Remember to keep your weight in your toes, yeah? In your—”
“Big toe! Weight in your big toe! I remember this from last year,” Calum informs Instructor Luke.
“Oh, okay, alright, I see you, two-time champion,” Instructor Luke says.
“Actually, this is my third time skiing,” Calum says, sticking his chest out a bit. Maybe he isn’t the fastest at skiing, but he can still do it. Sometimes. Instructor Luke doesn’t need to know that.
“Oh, rad! Going for the hat trick, little dude! Impressive, very impressive.” Calum beams, and Luke grins right back. “Are you ready to go?”
Calum looks down the mountain. Skiers are zig-zagging in big arcs through the light morning powder. Lots of skiers. It looks like Calum is most definitely going to crash into someone.
“That’s a lot of people,” Calum says kind of quietly. He doesn’t really want Instructor Luke to hear him. He doesn’t really want Instructor Luke to think he's scared.
“It’s alright, we can go around them, easy-peasy,” Instructor Luke says, like he does this every day. Maybe he does. “Here, I’ll go first.”
Instructor Luke glides smoothly onto the slanted mountainside. He turns left in a wide arc and skids to a stop several meters down, angling his body up the mountain.
“Come on, Calum!” he calls, brilliant grin matching the snow. Calum’s heart is pounding with a little bit of anticipation and a sprinkle of fear. “You just gotta make it to me!”
Instructor Luke holds out his arms, almost like he wants a hug. Okay, Calum can do this. Instructor Luke is not even that far away. Calum can totally definitely do this. He angles his skis cautiously down the slope, and all the sudden he’s sliding rapidly towards Ski Instructor Luke.
“Pizza!” Instructor Luke calls, and Calum bends his knees and leans a little forward and points his skis into a triangle.
He starts to slow down, but it’s not enough, he’s still going too fast, and he’s going to pass Instructor Luke, and—
“That’s it, little dude!”
Instructor Luke appears just in front of Calum out of nowhere.
“I can’t stop!” Calum says, and his voice sounds kind of shaky.
“You don’t have to stop, you’re doing great!” Instructor Luke says. “You’re shredding. Let’s do a turn, ready? Weight in your right toe!”
Calum furrows his brows in concentration and pushes down as hard as he can into his right boot. The shift makes him veer right, and everything is glorious as he swoops through the powder, following Instructor Luke’s bright red jacket. Calum grins. This is sorta fun.
“You’re killing it, little dude! Other way!” Instructor Luke shouts. “Left turn, left foot!”
Calum ducks to the left, no hesitation, and then he feels his left ski roll a little too far outwards, and his leg wobbles and he loses his balance and then he’s falling on his left side and he’s still skidding down the mountain and oh, he does not like this, this is not fun, he can’t stop, and—
And then hands are wrapping around his arms and the horizon rights itself as he’s pulled upright, and he’s slowing down, and he’s stopping. Instructor Luke lets go of Calum and swings around to face him.
“Hey, you’re okay, Calum,” he says soft and bright, brushing snow off Calum’s left side. The side he fell on. Calum fell. He suddenly feels a little bit like crying. “All good, yeah? You just caught an edge there. Happens to the best of us. Okay?”
Calum sniffs, determinedly keeping the burning tears at bay. “Yeah,” he says, throat tight. “Yeah, ‘m okay.”
“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Instructor Luke says gently. “I’m gonna go first, and all you gotta do is follow me, okay?” He smiles, and Calum finds himself mirroring it automatically.
“Okay.”
“Awesome.” Luke straightens up and gives Calum’s shoulder a squeeze. Calum’s tummy feels a little like it did when he was standing at the top of the mountain, but better. “Just follow me!” Luke calls cheerfully, and then he starts skiing downhill again. Except, he’s still grinning at Calum. Because he’s skiing backwards.
“Whoa!” Calum says, sadness forgotten. “You’re going backwards!”
Instructor Luke laughs as he turns, effortlessly leaving a perfect S-shape in the snow.
“Come on, Calum! Catch up!”
Giggling, Calum takes a deep breath and lets himself slide carefully through the tracks Instructor Luke left behind.
“Atta boy!” Instructor Luke calls. Calum smiles so wide he thinks his cheeks might fall off. “Carving it up! The Mountain Master!”
That makes Calum laugh for real, which makes him lose his balance just a bit with a gasp, but he throws his arms out and recovers around the next turn. It’s slow going, but at least he stays on his skis this time, and he’s back at the chairlift before he knows it.
Instructor Luke beat him to the bottom by a lot, and Calum reaches him while he’s in the middle of checking in with some other students. He doesn’t even see Calum do a perfect pizza stop at the end, which sucks, because he really wanted Instructor Luke to be impressed.
“Instructor Luke!” Calum says. “Give me attention!”
This time, the wind and the scraping of skis on snow and the clanking of the chairlift really do muffle his words. Instructor Luke doesn’t turn around. This calls for plan B.
With a huff, Calum crouches down on his skis and drags a gloved hand through the powder, successfully packing together a solid handful. He pats it into the perfect weapon and stands, ready to strike.
“Instructor Luke!” Calum calls again, giggling with anticipation. Right as Instructor Luke’s head turns, Calum lobs the snowball at him.
It catches him on the shoulder and explodes perfectly into his face. He lets out an offended gasp, and Calum doubles over with laughter at the sight of his snow-speckled cheeks.
“I got you!” he laughs, flailing his arms triumphantly. “I got you!”
“This means war, Calum!” Instructor Luke calls, dropping into the snow and frantically forming ammo of his own.
“No!” Calum shrieks, throwing his arms across his face just in time to block Instructor Luke’s snowball.
“Hey! No snowball fights in the lift line!”
“Aw, come on, Ash!” Instructor Luke complains loudly. “You’re no fun!”
“I am operating heavy machinery, Luke!” Ash shouts back. “Lives are at stake here!”
Luke drops into the snow again and picks up more fistfuls of snow. Calum watches as he packs it together perfectly, like he’s some kind of professional snowball welder.
“Live a little, Irwin!” Instructor Luke says, winking at Calum. Then, he turns over his shoulder and throws the snowball right at Ash’s head.