A/N: I hope everyone had a nice Christmas. No one's reviewing. -( Oh well, here's the next chapter.
Early on the morning of December 26th, Ray began packing his station wagon. It was an annual tradition to drive the kids up to Mount Baldy for a ski trip on the day after Christmas, returning on New Year's Day.
"Thanks, Rocket Girl," said Ray as he accepted a bungee cord. He strapped the kids' snowboards to the roof rack, then looked around for his son.
"Otto's probably still asleep," said Reggie.
"He shouldn't have stayed up half the night yesterday then," said Ray.
Reggie cupped her hands around her mouth to amplify her voice, aiming in the direction of a second-floor window.
"Val! Can you wake Rocket Boy up?" she yelled.
"No problem!" Val called back. "Hang on a second!"
Her head disappeared from view. Val strode across the floor, accidentally-on purpose tripping over Otto's sleeping bag. (Subtlety had never been one of her strong points). Except she gauged her trip wrong. She fell, landing squarely on top of him. He jolted awake.
"Pinned ya," Val grinned.
"Hey, lemme up," Otto said grumpily, trying to push her away.
Val got off him, crossed to the window, stuck her head out, and yelled, "He'll be right down!"
Smirking in a self-satisfied way, Val pranced downstairs. Otto muttered to himself as he got dressed. Sure, he'd said he forgave Val, but it was easy to forget that when she started dishing out rude wakeup calls.
0-0-0
A short time later, the five kids piled into the station wagon's backseat. Val didn't mind the cramped quarters because she was smushed against Twister. Ray hummed tunes from the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack as the group pressed further north. Tito leaned over to turn on the radio. The lilting opening notes of "Hotel California" flowed through the car. Val shrieked as she recognized the tune and began to sing along, so did Ray.
"Someone please shoot me," Otto mumbled.
Twister grinned stupidly. He thought Val sang like an angel. This much was true, but it was a bit hard to hear when one was focused on the grim lyrics of the song. Twister wasn't the only one lost in his own world. Valwas lost in the music, trying to hit each note properly. Twister knew the feeling, though he hadn't had the courage to sing lately because of his cracking voice. He'd even turned down the offer of a solo in the school holiday concert.
Val was starting to feel nervous. She'd been to Mount Baldy several times, but that had been when she was a small girl. She'd never been snowboarding, only ice skating. The name "Mont Baldy" was slightly ominous to her. Reggie had e-mailed her stories of past trips, such as the memorable incident of Twister and Otto getting lost and meeting the "mutant goats." Then, of course, there was the time Otto had broken his leg...Twister's voice broke into her thoughts.
"A supreme surfer like you could be a wicked snowboarder." he said.
"You really think so?" she asked.
"You know I do."
Otto made a gagging face.
0-0-0
A few hours later, the station wagon pulled up to the cabin the Rockets would be occupying for the week. Otto, Reggie, and Twister were all shivering. Coming to the cold of northern California from the heat of Ocean Shores was always a shock to their systems. Sam was used to cold weather, having spent the majority of his life in Kansas.
"Nice digs," Val observed, taking in the mounted moose head and nice furniture of the cabin.
Otto shook his head discreetly.
Doesn't Val know that no one says "digs" anymore? he wondered.
Ray started to build a fire in the fireplace. Their first meal at Mount Baldy was always pancakes cooked over an open flame. No one was sure how that tradition had gotten started, but it stuck. The Rocket siblings exchanged looks. Ray's char-broiled pancakes always took forever to make.
"Raymundo, do we have to make these every trip?" Otto questioned.
"It's our tradition, Rocket Boy," Ray answered.
"Could we make an exception just this once?" asked Reggie. She leaned forward to whisper, "You know how Otto gets when he's hungry."
"I'm well aware of that," said Ray as he dropped a lit match onto the logs. "But this is still a tradition."
Ray sat back to look at the fire blazing in the hearth.
"Won't be long now." he said, rubbing his hands together.
Ray was actually right about this. A little over an hour later, everyone had been given a plate of pancakes. Breakfast was peaceful, save for an occasional squabble amongst the kids over butter or syrup.