CHAPTER TEN DIEGO
CHAPTER TEN
DIEGO
Another week goes by in a blur, and I hate to admit that I’m starting to enjoy working at Rock Snow and assisting Alara with the lessons.
I also hate to admit that helping with her social media content creation is fun.
I don’t know how she does it, but she manages to turn a silly moment as we film into one filled with laughter and sometimes even one where tears threaten to escape my eyes.
I’m desperate for the ache in my body to vanish, and every day becomes harder and harder to live without snowboarding.
Every moment I spend away from home – which is the place where, despite being with my family, I’m reminded of all the pressure weighing down on my shoulders – is a good distraction.
Every moment I spend with Alara feels like a balm to a wound, which is often, considering we’re constantly in each other’s company.
There’s something about her that draws me in.
Perhaps it’s the way she lights up a room whenever she walks into one, like she’s sunshine incarnate.
Dr Ellis is as optimistic as he can be. In addition to my weekly sessions with him, I try to include two at-home workouts to keep myself moving.
The urge to scratch an itch is still there, though.
I can’t even count the amount of times I wake up in cold sweats in the middle of the night, panting and on the cusp of heading off to the resort to ride.
Every time I almost break my promise to Coach, I get a grip and inwardly pat myself on the back for not being a reckless motherfucker.
Honestly, he’d be proud of me.
He doesn’t even understand the amount of strength it takes to abstain myself from saying fuck it and disobey him. It’s like putting tres leches in front of me the day I decide to go on a diet.
“Don’t you love Christmas in this town?” Gaby asks wistfully, as she walks by my side. We’re headed to the resort, where the snowboarding amateur competition is taking place. Jordan is strolling behind us, glued to his phone as always, but his sister is nowhere to be seen.
I wanted to take the car because the walk from home to the resort is quite long, but when Gaby mentioned we’d be hanging out at the Christmas market afterward and that parking is a bitch on Friday nights, I sighed loudly and said okay.
But I’m seeing the bright side now: taking a long walk is good for my knee. I need to stimulate it without worsening the injury, or whatever it is that Dr Ellis told me this morning.
I lift my shoulders in a shrug. “It’s alright.”
Christmas doesn’t do anything for me. I’m indifferent to it, really. Sure, the town is beautifully decorated and the humongous tree in front of the city hall is nice to look at, but whatever magic my sister is feeling isn’t something that courses through my bloodstream.
“Grumpy,” she mumbles. Like Alara, she’s one to take pictures of the sun setting in the sky, so when she stops for the three-hundredth time to take a photo of the same damn violet cloud, I throw my head back.
Jordan snickers behind us.
Okay, I can’t stand it anymore. “Where’s your sister?”
I had to ask. Maybe it’s the fact we spend our spare time together; maybe it’s the fact that I feel safe with her and like I can be myself without being judged; maybe it’s because, despite my walls, she pushes unapologetically against them to see me, the real me, and that is the reason why I can’t help but think about her.
It’s like my brain is craving something sweet, like there’s a name perpetually ricocheting against every corner of my mind, and it’s hers – yet I can’t bring myself to address this sudden yearning.
Jordan glances up from his phone and shrugs. “Ask Gaby.”
I turn to my sister. “Gabriela?”
“?Qué? No sé. No me mires así.” But from the cheeky smile pulling at her lips, she knows exactly where Alara is, and that only piques my curiosity.
The parking lot at the lodge is already full, and I’m surprised to see how many people are attending the competition.
If it’s like in the past, the contestants are usually juniors or townspeople, but I also remember Joe telling me that the resort is fully booked; I’m assuming some guests are attending as well.
We get to the park, where bright lights illuminate the halfpipe, the bleachers almost full of spectators.
Instantly, it feels as if a needle pierces through my heart, causing that organ to deflate and break, the fragmented pieces falling into the pit of my stomach and leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
I’ve refused to come to the snow park before now for the sole reason that I knew it’d hurt to be here.
I want to ride those slopes and slide across those rails.
I want to show off my skills. I want to feel the way my body hums to life when I land hard tricks.
But I guess sitting and watching will do for now.
Fuck, I hate this.
Gaby’s hand wraps around my forearm, a gentle pressure that tells me to keep it together. She gives me an ever so slightly pitying smile that makes my eye twitch, then saunters off to the bleachers with Jordan, who has finally let go of his phone.
Walking to the judges’ table, I spot Valentina and her friends sitting in the front row of the closest bleachers. I wink at my sister, and her friends giggle.
“Ew,” Valentina says, loud enough for me to hear.
After embracing Joe and shaking the hands of the other members of the jury, I sit next to my boss and pull my beanie further down over my ears. The air is crisp today, cold against my cheekbones, forcing me to tuck my chin in the collar of my coat to find a sliver of warmth.
“Excited?” Joe asks, handing me a folder that contains the contestants’ information, a pencil, and some sort of spreadsheet to keep track of the scores.
“The place is packed. It might be the first time it’s been so full.
I’m pretty sure everyone’s here to see you and listen to the advice you can give. ”
I lean back in my chair, cross my arms over my chest, and start looking around for a gorgeous brunette with pretty eyes, wit for days, and cooking skills to die for.
Spotting my mom and Donna huddled together under a thick blanket, I wave at them, only to have everyone around them wave back at me. “Nah. I’m not that important.”
“Look at you being humble,” Joe teases.
I chuckle, then motion toward Donna, who passes a travel mug to my mom. “What are they drinking?”
“Tea.”
“Is it spiked?”
Joe laughs, but nods. “You bet it is.”
I give my head a little shake, observing the way Mom whispers something to Donna that makes both of them erupt in a fit of giggles. Busybodies, these two, I’m telling you. “When is it starting?”
He checks his watch. “Ten minutes, more or less. There are twenty-three contestants, age ranking going from six to thirty-one. It’s really not a serious competition, but you know how serious they are.” He smiles at me. “You loved to take it to heart.”
A wave of nostalgia hits me square in the chest. The first time I participated in this tournament, I was around six or seven years old.
I took that shit so seriously, and it has since earned me multiple podiums and even gold medals.
The last time I competed was on my seventeenth birthday – a few days before Coach Wilson reached out to me.
I clear my throat to make the ball of emotion go away. “Yeah. Yeah, I loved it.”
I open the folder as Joe claps me on the back, and run my gaze over the contestants’ names. Maybe I might spot a familiar name. Right on cue, I do a double take at contestant number sixteen, my eyes widening as I read— “Alara?”
Joe’s laugh booms in my ear. “She’s pretty good at snowboarding. She ever tell you that?”
I’m having fun. A lot of it.
The irony is fucking baffling. Here I was, stressing myself over not being able to compete again, but judging these amateurs and watching them do what I love is quite relaxing.
Studying all those people showing off their skills, whether they’re beginners or talented enough to go pro reminds me of my early days and how stress-free it used to be to compete in the tournament. It’s pure unbridled joy and exhilaration. No true judgment. No expectations.
Just for the sake of it all, we give points based on style, technique, and originality, but it’s evident that none of the contestants are here for a prize.
The ball of frustration that was sitting in the pit of my stomach instantly went away when the first competitor slid down the slope. Of course, I’d love to be up there too, but I’ve realized that being a member of the jury is an honor. I’m done taking shit for granted.
I’ve given a piece of advice to every candidate. Seeing how much they appreciate my words and help makes an emotion I can’t put into words dance inside my chest.
The fifteenth contestant finishes his run, and I can’t help but stand and clap along with everyone else.
So far, he was the most impressive, his combination of rotations and stunts rather good for someone who rides for his own pleasure.
Dalton is only seventeen, but I think he could compete at a professional level if he wanted to.
Snowboard tucked under his arm, he tears his goggles off and saunters over to us to shake each of our hands. His eyes widen with awe as he looks up at me.
“Nice job out there,” I compliment him.
“Thanks,” Dalton replies shyly. “I actually watch a lot of your videos. Big fan of yours.”
I’ll never get used to being an inspiration to others. “I appreciate it. Keep up with the hard work and you might be able to join a team in a few years or so. Your technique needs a bit of practice, but overall I was really impressed.”
His eyes light up. “You really think so?” I nod, truthfully. “What do I need to improve?”