On our way up the ski lift (and I don’t even want to think of the view from below), a team went by on its way down in a cardboard ship that said, “Pirates of Lake Minnetonka.” A guy who looked a lot like Captain Jack Sparrow was at the helm, while ghosts—some real, some made of sheets—bobbed behind him.
Couldn’t I have been on that mattress ship? I’d kill to be a ghost right now, I thought. No pun intended.
We got to the top of the hill, and I saw the mattress and its pseudo-platform that I was supposed to lie on. It looked like an old desk with a few sleeping bags piled on top of it. Whatever these guys ended up doing with the rest of their lives, you can bet it wouldn’t be construction or design. One of them handed me a clump of plastic flowers to hold.
When the M.C. introduced our group, the guys raised their hands over their heads, like victorious boxers, and everyone cheered.
“You have to take off your coat,” Sean told me as he bowed to the crowd.
“I think she should keep it on,” Conor argued.
“I’m with you,” I said to Conor. I wasn’t about to do any bowing, needless to say.
“Come on, Kirst. Let ’em see the costume, or it won’t count,” Sean urged.
“Okay, fine.” I kept my jacket on until the last second. Then I flung it over to the side, and stood there awkwardly grinning and waving at the crowd. Meanwhile, the rest of the team was standing there sort of gaping at me.
We all gathered on the mattress, me lying on the platform and the guys standing around me, sort of in surfing stances.
“Whose bright idea was it to put non-stick Pam on the bottom of the mattress again?” someone asked Sean as we began hurtling down the slick snow.
“Come on, this is fun!” Sean cried.
Needless to say, we lasted about halfway down the steep hill. Guys tumbled off, or dropped to their knees to stay on. We were setting some kind of land speed mattress record, that was for sure.
At the bottom, we crashed into the hay bales and everyone tumbled on top of me, especially Sean. It was almost just like when we rolled off the toboggan, except this time I had less clothes on. Funny things happened when we went down slopes together.
Conor was one of the first people to get up. He leaned down to help pull me to my feet. “Come on, get up, your fans await.”
A huge cheer went up from the crowd gathered to watch, as we untangled ourselves, all stood up, and stepped off the mattress.
“Skirt,” Conor said out of the corner of his mouth.
I reached back and realized that my skirt had flipped up in the back. I pulled it back into place and muttered, “Thanks.”
Then the guys surrounded me, and we all posed for pictures. I didn’t think we’d win any prizes for that performance, but at least we’d raised money for charity. Gretchen had kicked in fifty dollars when I told her about the event.
“Do you want to go get a hot chocolate or something?” I asked Sean as we moved out of the way, so the next team could come down the hill. And some clothes? For me? Please?
“Sure. But I want to go down the hill a few more times—maybe jump on someone else’s ride,” Sean said. “Don’t you?”
“Not without changing first,” I said. “Are you crazy?”
“Crazy about that costume,” Sean said. “Can I call you ‘Snow’ from now on?”
“I’m contemplating suing you,” I said through clenched teeth as we posed for yet another photograph. “These photos. You’re going to confiscate them, right?”
“Oh. Right. Sure.” From Sean’s reaction, I wasn’t sure if he knew what “confiscate” meant.
“Okay, now I really must go.” I tried to give him a kiss on the cheek, but he turned away to talk to some pals just as I was leaning toward him, and I ended up kissing the air instead.
I walked as inconspicuously as I could away from the stage area, making sure I didn’t take any long strides that might make my costume ride up—again.
Conor was waiting off to the side with my jacket, which he must have carried down from the top. “Thanks,” I said.
“Hold on.” Then he thought better of it, and took off his jacket to give me, because it was longer and would cover more of me.
“Thanks, but I’ll just go change,” I said. “I’m ready to turn into a different fairy-tale character.”
“Yeah, me too,” Conor agreed as we started to walk up toward the lodge.
Suddenly a couple of guys stepped in front of us—they looked like they were about twenty. “Hey, Snow White! Can I be your prince?” one of them asked.
I would have killed for my over-protective dad to show up right about then. Fortunately, this was something I could deal with on my own. “I don’t think so,” I said firmly.
“Come on,” the other guy said. “Aren’t we supposed to kiss you to wake you up?”
“Yeah. In your dreams,” I said. I started to walk past them, and one of them reached out to put his arm around me.
I jammed him in the ribs with my elbow, dodged out of the way, and said, “Leave me alone, or I’ll have the seven hockey players find you. They carry hockey sticks, okay?”
I heaved a sigh of relief once I was back into my own clothes—jeans and a sweater. My furry boots looked much better with jeans than they did with a mini. I hung up the Snow White costume and put it back into the garment bag, then draped it over my arm and walked back to the lodge lounge.
Conor was waiting outside the entrance. “You’re funny. You know that?”
“What?”
“You nearly knocked that guy out!” He laughed. “So, you going to go with the tiara for the rest of the day?”
I’d put it back on after I changed clothes, because I didn’t have a good place to set it. Then I’d forgotten all about it. “Oh. Oops.” I reached up and started to take off the tiara, but then I thought better of it. Maybe everyone would treat me like a princess if I acted like one. “Actually, yes.”
“Okay…” he said slowly.
“I think I’m going outside to watch,” I announced.
“You don’t have to.” Conor pointed to the video screens around the lounge. Tons of other people were hanging inside and watching by camera. “I mean, if you don’t want to put your hat on over your tiara.”
“That could be lumpy. I don’t know. I should go find Sean, though,” I said.
“Found him.” Conor pointed to a large video screen on the wall. Sean was cruising down the mountain on a mattress decorated to look like an MTV Spring Break party, complete with girls in bikinis and guys in shorts, dancing in his jeans and T-shirt.
“Oh. Well, that looks like fun. Sort of.” As long as I didn’t look at the bikini-clad girls getting really close to Sean.
Conor shook his head. “He’ll do anything for attention.”
I turned to him. “Okay. I have a question. Do you guys really not get along, or is it all an act? I mean, I don’t get it, Conor.”
“It’s kind of a long story. I’ll buy you a coffee,” he offered.
We settled onto a couple of stools at the bar, and I ordered a mocha while Conor got a plain black coffee.
“Okay.” Conor sighed. “It’s stupid.”
“So tell me how stupid,” I insisted as I checked out the big-screen TV on the wall. Fortunately Sean wasn’t on screen anymore.
“I quit the hockey team last year and he’s still mad at me about it, because they lost in the tournament.”
“You quit?” I asked. “I thought you didn’t make the team.”
“No, that’s true, too. I didn’t make it this year—this fall,” Conor said. “I wanted to get back on the team, but the coach didn’t want me back. I guess I can’t really blame him. He didn’t trust me.”
“Why not? When did you quit?” I took a sip of the café mocha.
“Just before the tournament.”
“No. Why would you do that?”
“Yeah, I know, believe me, I’ve had tons of time to think about what a dumb move that was. It was impulsive. It was awful of me to do that to those guys. But I couldn’t stand them anymore. They’re egomaniacs.”