Live Through This (7 page)

I shake my head, but in a way, I can relate. A little bit, maybe. It’s kind of like when Bryan left last fall. He’d been there since I was born. He calmed me down whenever I had bad dreams, picked me up at Alejandra’s after my dance lessons and his basketball practices, and was always, always on my side no matter what. Then he wasn’t there for me anymore. And really, he hasn’t been ever since.

He continues. “It took me off-guard. Totally knocked me on my ass. I mean, she broke up with me in a text, of all things.”

I turn toward him. “What?”

“Yeah. She was late meeting me at the restaurant for my birthday. I texted, asking where she was, and she basically said she wasn’t coming and it was over between us. And that was it. She won’t talk to me. She won’t see me.” His voice cracks. “She changed her profile online to ‘single’ and put up a picture of her kissing some dude that I don’t even know.”

“Are you
serious
?”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to.

That horrible girl dumped my brother—my ultra-sensitive brother who loved her more than he’d loved any other girlfriend—on his birthday without explaining why. I clench my jaw and fists as tears sting my eyes. I hate her more than I did before. More than I’ve ever hated anyone.

“I’m sorry, B,” I say.

“It isn’t your fault, C. I just don’t know what I did. It was something, obviously. Something big.”

I shake my head. “No. She’s stuck-up and she has a weird nose and she
sucks
and you can do so much better.”

He tosses the last few centimeters of his joint out the window and smiles at me. It’s a sad smile. A stoned smile. But at least he doesn’t look completely miserable at this moment. “Her nose is kind of fucked up, isn’t it?”

My head tingles a little, and I nod and smile back.

Maybe Mom was right. Maybe I am still the one person who can get through to him.

•    •    •

When we pull up in front of the town house, the minivan is in the driveway with every door open. I wheel my suitcase through the propped-open front door. Inside the small, tiled foyer, there’s a flight of stairs leading up and another leading down.

“Look who’s finally here!” Jacob yells as he barrels toward me from the upper staircase. “Losers!”

Bryan and I jump aside as Jacob runs past us. Tony traipses down after him. “Took you a while to get here,” he says. “We made a stop for produce and still beat you by ten minutes.”

“I picked the wrong line at the border,” Bryan says. “As usual.”

I keep my expression neutral. The truth is, our border crossing wasn’t long at all, but he detoured into Whistler Village instead of coming straight here. I waited in the car and didn’t ask questions when he came back twenty minutes later, but I’m positive that he scored his BC Bud. Otherwise, we’d probably still be there.

Tony nods in sympathy. “Been there, done that. Well, you two get to argue over the downstairs bedrooms. Go ahead and put your bags in your rooms and then come back up, all right? I can use help carrying things in, and your mom’s trying to get the kitchen in order.”

He didn’t mention anything about Emma sleeping with me, like it isn’t even on anyone’s mind for this trip. Resentment toward Heather swells through me once again. If she were here, Emma and I would have no choice except to be in the same room because, technically, there wouldn’t be enough beds.

Dragging my suitcase, I follow Bryan down to the bottom floor where there’s a bathroom for us to share and two big rooms, each with a king-sized bed.

“Argue over bedrooms,” Bryan mutters. “I think he’s mixing us up with
his
bratty kids.”

“Probably.” I put on a smile and ball up my hands. “But I’m about to beat you down for the lavender bedspread.”

He smiles back. “How about if I just let you have it? No fisticuffs required.”

“Aww,” I say, reaching up and patting the top of his head. “You’re the best brother in the whole, wide world. And, of course, this has nothing to do with the fact that you like navy blue better, right?”

“Right.” He pokes both of his cheeks to make dimples. “Or that Christmas is coming and my heart’s grown three sizes today.”

I push my suitcase into my room, and make my way up two flights of stairs to check out more of the town house. On the second floor, Mom is putting away groceries. She has bags and boxes of food strewn throughout the kitchen, dining area, and living room. I wander over to the sliding glass doors, and as I’m peeking out at the hot tub on the balcony, my sister comes running down the steps.

“Hey, Emma!” I call out. “I got us the lavender room on the bottom floor. Where’s your luggage?”

“Oh!” She looks back and forth between me and Mom. “Aren’t I supposed to sleep upstairs on the hide-a-bed by Jacob and Zach’s room?”

Mom nods. “I think that will be best.”

“Why?” I ask. “She can stay with me. We’ll have a whole week of slumber parties. Do you want to, Em?”

“Yeah!” she says.

“Oh, I can see how this is going to go already,” Mom says to me, shaking her head. “You know how difficult your sister is to sleep with.”

Emma pouts. “But I’m not anymore. I’ve changed! I don’t even snore now that my tonsils are out. I promise, I’ll be quiet and lay flat like this all night long.” She closes her eyes and stands at attention for a couple of seconds. “See?”

My sister is truly the noisiest, most restless blanket hog I’ve ever known. “It’ll be fine,” I say.

Mom shoves cereal boxes into a cupboard. “It actually would be nice if we could save that pullout bed on the third floor for Reece instead of having him down here. That way, the living room won’t be all cluttered up with him and his things during our last two days. But it’s totally up to you, Nicole.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes that she thinks Reece will “clutter up” the place. “Are you going to keep your promise and be still and quiet when I’m ready to sleep?” I ask Emma.

She nods, still grinning as her curls bob up and down by her face.

“Go get your stuff, then,” I say.

“Yay!” Emma skips back upstairs.

“She
does
love hanging around with her big sis,” Mom says. “I hope it all works out.”

“It will. It’s going to be great.”

CHAPTER 7

I
t’s our first day up on the mountain and soft, fluffy flakes are dancing around my face. This is the kind of snow that inspires people to smile and sing and feel all holiday-ish. No one else in my family seems to even notice it, though, because Tony had us rush to eat, rush to gear up, rush to get to the resort. Then, upon arriving, we got stuck waiting for tickets, waiting for the gondola, waiting for the chairlift. Tony’s annoyed, Mom’s annoyed, Bryan’s annoyed. I’m annoyed that they’re all annoyed.

“What did we expect, though?” Mom asks as we finally reach the front of the line for the Peak Chair. “It’s two days before Christmas. I heard someone say that this is Whistler’s busiest week of the year.”

“We might want to wake up earlier tomorrow,” Tony says. “Just in case it’s worse.”

Bryan elbows me. I don’t have to look at him to know what
he’s thinking because I’m thinking it too: The triplets are at snowboarding lessons for the next six hours, so Mom and Tony could be skiing anywhere on the mountain right now. Instead, they’re tagging along with us. Why, why, why?

We all move forward together to get on the lift—Mom and Bryan on the outsides and Tony and me in the middle.

“And, we’re off,” Tony says, tucking his poles under his leg while Bryan and Mom pull down the safety bar. “Speaking of waiting. Bryan, did you happen to see if first semester grades are ready?”

Bryan’s body tenses beside me. “They’re up.”

“And?”

“And . . . could be better, could be worse. I kind of screwed up my finals, but whatever.”

Tony puts his elbow on the bar, and I flatten myself against the back of the seat as he talks over me. “We’ve discussed this so many times. You have to stay laser focused during undergrad if you want to get into a good law school. That’s just the way it is.”

“Who said I want to go to law school?” Bryan asks.

From Tony’s other side, Mom’s voice is loud and clear. “
You
did, Bryan.”

Tony nods. “When we talked last summer, you agreed that it’s a great career choice.”

“Yeah, it’s great for you. But there’s no way I’m becoming an attorney.”

“Where is this coming from?” Tony asks, frowning. “What’s changed?”

I wince. I can’t believe that after seeing how hard Bryan’s taking the breakup with Heather, Tony asked that question and is forcing Bryan to have this conversation right now. It’s as if he purposely waited to bring it up when there was no way to escape.

“Look,” Bryan says. “Right now, I don’t care. Okay?”

“It’s not okay.” Tony shakes his head. “It’s a problem. You’re letting
right now
ruin your chances—”

“Nothing is ruined.” Bryan sits up straighter. “And, really, you have no clue. So do me a favor and save the tough-love speeches for your own kids.”

Tony makes an irritated “Chhh!” sound. As he shifts to look at Mom, I take the opportunity to interrupt. “We’re on vacation, you guys! Remember?” No one responds, so I go on. “There will be plenty of time to have conversations about grades and futures and everything else after we get home. Can’t you let it go for seven days? Please?”

Tony looks at me and then at Bryan. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“
After
the trip, right?” I ask.

“Fine,” Tony says.

“Do you agree, Mom?” I ask.

I can totally see Tony breaking his agreement by convincing her to do it instead. His job these days is to put together people’s wills and stuff, so he hasn’t been an actual courtroom attorney for years, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still strategize like one.

“Yes, Nicole,” Mom says.

I jab the top of Bryan’s leg. “And
you
. These snow conditions are a dream come true and you need to have some fun this week. I mean it.”

“Fun. What’s that?”

I flash him a big smile. “Only the best thing ever!”

He lifts one corner of his mouth and pokes my arm. “Whatever you say, Miss Bossy Sunshine.”

•    •    •

A few minutes later, Bryan and I are sitting on the snow, clipping into our bindings alongside about a dozen other snowboarders.

“We’ll meet you at the Big Red Express!” Mom calls to us as she and Tony ski away.

“Gotta love the quality bonding time,” Bryan says.

“The family that rides the lift together, stays together,” I say.

He smirks. “Where’re we off to?”

“Somewhere that eventually brings us to them, I suppose. I’ll follow you.”

We push ourselves up from the ground and take off. Within seconds, he’s way ahead of me. He glides through the powder and comes to a stop in front of a trail sign with two black diamonds on it. “Ready for the fun to start?” he asks, after I’ve caught up.

I scoot past him to glance down the hill, and my breath catches. From up here, the incline appears to be practically straight down. “If this is where fun is happening, then definitely not. I don’t do double-black runs.”

Bryan laughs. A real laugh. He honestly thinks I’m kidding. “I’ll race you down, C. Winner gets . . . what? What’s a good prize?”

I swallow. “Not going home in a body bag?”

“You’re hilarious. Let’s go.”

If anyone else were asking—anyone in the world—I’d continue on the totally doable blue runs by myself and meet at the bottom. But it isn’t anyone else. It’s Bryan, who is actually trying to have a good time. Bryan, who needs my help keeping his mind off Heather.

I careen over the edge before he can register what’s happening; the bigger head start I can get, the better. Within
seconds, I know I’ve made a huge mistake. My brain screams:
slow down, slow down, slow down,
but the hill is so steep and icy that I can’t even begin to catch an edge.

Bryan quickly overtakes me. I don’t think he’s hit the slopes since Thanksgiving of
last
year, but if he’s feeling rusty, it’s impossible to tell. “How does that saying about cheaters go?” he calls out.

“Bryan!”

I have no hope of winning the race—I never did—and I’m on the verge of hyperventilating as I zigzag out of control. I dodge a waist-high tree and scrape across a patch of exposed rock. I lean this way, that way, wobble, wobble, wobble . . .

Slam!

I’m sliding on my butt and then I crash onto my side. I’m screaming and rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling my way down the hill.

When the ground finally levels and my momentum halts, my heart is slamming in my chest. I pant, staring through my goggles at the sky.

Boots crunch over the snow. Bryan drops to his knees beside me and yanks off his goggles. “Shit! Coley, are you okay? Can you get up at all?”

I flex my arms, hands, legs, feet. “I’m not injured. If you
don’t mind, though, I’m just going to lie here and die.”

He lets out a loud breath. “Holy
crap
. That freaked me out. Are you sure you’re all right?”

I prop myself up on my elbows. “I’m fine, see? Don’t worry.”

“Look where you came down,” he asks, pointing up the hill. “I don’t know how, but you managed to hit the only straight line without obstacles. You’re going to be feeling those body slams tomorrow, but still, pretty lucky.”

Actually, the body-slamming pain kicked in right away, but I don’t want to say so and make him feel worse about it. “And who says ‘cheaters never prosper’?” I ask, with a small smile. “We don’t ever have to do that run again, do we?”

Bryan shakes his head roughly and takes my hands to pull me up. “No way.”

“Okay, good.”

•    •    •

The evening Fire and Ice show at Whistler Village that night is loud music, a loud emcee, and an even louder crowd. It’s stunt snowboarders and skiers taking turns speeding down the hill and jumping through a huge, burning ring. It’s fire dancers on both sides of the run swinging flaming torches, sticks, and whips. It’s also a good enough mix of locals and out-of-towners so I don’t feel like
too
much of a dorky tourist.