They had talked trash can lids. Susie had vetoed that, 'cause that seemed way too dangerous; bless what willingness she retained to admit when she was scared. The boys had tried to tell her that it wouldn't be any different from snowboarding, as people who, themselves, had never snowboarded before. Julie'd convinced them to accept her veto - entirely on Sue's behalf, as the only one who had, in fact, snowboarded before, and figured Frank and Joe were probably right-yet-very-very-wrong, but had initially partway wanted to tempt fate. To see exactly how thoroughly those dudes were gonna end up pranking themselves.
In true natural-leader-magnetism fashion, Frank had agreed anyway that it was best for them to slide down that one slope outside the lodge as a team.
Here they were, now, on a makeshift toboggan built for four - out of pieces of discarded furniture they'd lifted from sales listed on the 'net, padded with rags and with shitty-ass already-damp cardboard, and just about half the squared interior space of your average car's. It was enough space for them all to crouch tight-together in, with Frank seated in the front; and Julie right behind him on one side with her hands on his waist and her chin resting on his shoulder as she grinned in a let's-do-this brand of anticipation; and Joey on his other side, also hunkered down and looking at the steep trip ahead of them in less a manner of let's do this than of hell yeah I can do this; and Susie sticking close in the back, unsmiling, on her knees and the tips of her fingers, staring at the back of Julie's head for any sign that things may look wrong.
It was, somehow, Susie's duty to kick the sled off.
"Oooooone," said Frank.
Julie: "Twoooooooo".
Joey took "Threeeeeeee..."
...and Susie felt the "go" winding up on her. She thinned her lips and wiggled in place and, when she scuffed her sneaker against a stone in the snow behind their deathtrap sled, she squeaked first out of hoping she'd gotten the timing right.
...And then she held it, winding higher and tighter and tighter in her head like a twisting spring, lips peeling away from her teeth and exposing metal fixings to the wind, as she felt the world start to tip.
The others felt it, too - all showing their teeth, too, but in grins, eyes widening, each focusing their grip on something. Frank emitted a rising whoaaaaaaaaaa...!
And Joey marked momentum finally starting to take 'em fully in a downward rush with one fist in the air and a "WOOO-OOO!"
As long as the slope looked, it was steep. With all their preparation, they knew their ride wasn't going to be a long one - just one fast, brutal one; a burst of fireworks in their collective blood, noise and heat and all. They swayed and swayed as the front of the path speed-carved its downward path through the snow like a stream down a mountain, holding onto each other tightly as they shot lower and lower down the hill, building some kind of shared pressure between them for one final big bang. A branch nearly smacked Frank at one point; he cursed and swatted it out of the way. The floor jumped and juddered under them as they grazed over chunks of ice and pebbles at spots the snow cover wore thin. They hit one particularly jagged bump and Susie cried out, clinging to Jules - and realizing in the cold aftermath of the flash in her head that it'd set off that it hadn't been a scream of fear, at all, rather than simply riding the crests of the moment.
The bang they had subconsciously anticipated came when they hit yet another bump.
Something sharp (the broken stump of a shrub?) snagged the front of the sled.
The world turned and began to seize and pull them along with no questions asked from them again. Four mouths dropped open.
And four bodies were lifted turning, and turning, and turning into the air.
It sure was true that time slowed down in those kinds of moments.
As they realized all together that the sled wasn't underneath them anymore, and they looked around themselves and each other for where each of them was again, reaching out at fast-confirmed coordinates to try to keep their positions and points of orbit around each other oriented -
- they smacked into the ground tumbling and tumbling and spinning apart until each of them hit a point of stillness in the snow. Hearing momentarily muffled, hot nerves flash-cooled.
They were fine.
They knew they were all going to be fine once they got up, because they could afford to be risk-takers because, ironically, they were invincible together. Nothing was going to go wrong today, because they had already decided that it wouldn't.
Yet when each of them picked themselves up on all fours, catching their breath all together and once again looking around wide-eyed for where the others had broken off to, they looked each other in the face with some sort of exchanged, passed-around wide-eyed nervousness. It was all okay, right?
Julie to Frank. Frank to Joey. Joey to Sue. Sue to Julie. Again. Around. Switch.
...Until one by one - Frank first. Julie. Joe. Susie - the corners of each of their mouths had started to turn up.
And a warmth pooled clean and full behind the masks of each of their faces before finally, they started to laugh.
Of course it was all okay.
How silly of them to even have to ask such a question.
They had crawled up to each other, still laughing, exchanging thumps and rubs on the back and "damn!"s and points back at the sled and the top of the hill and hands as they picked each other off the ground, collapsed standing together into a huddle, the laughter still cauldron-bubbling and tinging cheeky words.
They were invincible.
Being together was painless, and so anything that they could feel while they were together was worth feeling.
Written for the r/FanFiction February Daily Prompt Challenge. February 4th: "Flying".