Ficly

Ditching

I slide to the edge of the hill, letting the majority of my skis hang over. Scanning the mountain, I see only a couple of ramps, and they’re fairly easy to get around. That’s the only reason this is rated a double black; the rest is hardly even considered blue.

“Quinn, wait up!” Anna yells, trying to stand and unclick her skis at the same time.

Now that I have a few seconds to check the time, I pull my cell out of my coat pocket. 7:14. That leaves plenty of time for a couple more runs down the hill, and tons for Anna to get back to the bus, even without me.

Ditching people is bad… unless you tell them first. I make my way over to Anna quickly.

“Do you think you could get back to the lounge by yourself?”

“Well, I guess, but I thought we were going to go down this one together…” She looks up at me with over-exaggerated puppy eyes.

“I don’t know, Anna. Think you’re ready for a double black?” I put the most intimidating expression on my face, acting as though the hill drops off at ninety degrees.

This story has no comments.