Page 62 of A Class of Her Own

I nodded, and we fell into silence as we shuffled along, trying not to cross our skis or bump into someone else’s. The lines were still short, and we were on the lift quickly. Our shoulders brushed, and I leaned in, enjoying it.

“You grew up in the area, right?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah. In a really little town called Paradise. It’s like twenty minutes away from Logan.”

“So, you’ve probably been skiing forever then?”

I scoffed. “Hardly. I think it’s a common misconception that all Utahns ski. Skiing is expensive, and we didn’t have the money.”

He held up two gloved hands. “Sorry. Assumptions are bad, I get it. Take it as a compliment. You look like a lifelong skier. So, when did you get started skiing then?”

“I’ve always really been into exercise and activity, so after I graduated and got a job teaching, I decided to learn to ski.”

“How long have you been teaching?”

“Around twelve years, give or take.”

“What made you decide to be a teacher?”

Rather than immediately answer, I glanced toward the top of the mountain, wondering how to answer that without going too deep for our budding friendship. I’d chosen the profession because school had felt like safety as a child. People there had shown up day in, day out. Lunch was always served. Lessons made sense. I’d gotten to almost be a child for those few hours each day. I’d wanted to do the same for other children.

He misinterpreted my silence as annoyance and said, “Sorry. I’ll stop bugging you. You’re here for quiet, and I’m being chatty.”

“It’s not that,” I responded. “Just deciding if I keep it surface level or tell you the truth.”

He nodded. “It’s a dark and sordid tale, then?”

I laughed. “No. Let’s say that as a kid my life was unstable, but school provided a foundation. I wanted to pay that forward to other kids who needed it.”

“I’m going to tell you this because I think you’re the type of person who can understand what I mean by it. I chose to be a lawyer because I thought it would be good to always understand my rights and never be taken advantage of.”

I blinked and glanced at him. I did understand it. Deeply. “But you always come off so relaxed and unworried.”

He tapped the tip of his nose. “Because I’m confident that no one is bamboozling me.”

I chuckled. “Smart.”

“I usually tell people I chose to do it for the money,” he grinned.

When it was time to get off, we lifted the tips of our skis and I raised the safety bar over our heads. We stood in unison, but, as I began to ski away, I felt a tug on my coat. I looked over in time to see that the side of my coat had become tangled in the chair and, as the lift was going around to begin its descent, it was tugging me along with it. I stumbled to the side, trying to find my footing, but skis weren’t built for that type of motion, and I started to go down as I was dragged along. I reached one arm out to break my fall while still tugging on my coat with the other, trying to free it.

Out of nowhere I saw a flash of silver, and suddenly I was released. The motion caused me to fully fall on my side, and Brooks dropped next to me to avoid getting clipped by the chair behind ours circling around. We laid there, face-to-face, me blinking away some confusion and him breathing hard. My goggles had gotten knocked off, and the sun was bright, making me squint.

“How . . .” I blinked, still a bit confused.

“I kicked off my skis, whipped out a pocketknife, opened the correct blade with gloves on, and saved your life, all in a five-second timeframe,” he said.

“You had a knife in your pocket?”

He made a face. “What kind of Boy Scout would I be if I didn’t? I’m practically an Eagle scout, I’ll have you know.”

“Practically?”

“The cooking badge gave me some difficulties.”

He rolled onto his hands and knees and stood, offering his gloved hands to me. With skis still attached to my feet, I appreciated the help. He tugged, and I popped right up. Still a bit dazed, I looked down at my coat to find that it was now missing a chunk off the back side. It was bad luck. Good snow coats were hard to come by, and I’d expected this one would last me several years. I glanced to where I could see a flap of blue still attached to the chair as it moved downhill.

“Well,” I straightened my shoulders and leaned down to pick up my goggles. “Thanks for that Indiana Jones move there.”

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