Michelle finally managed to go to sleep after Tommy insisted on finishing his rendition of "Do You Wanna Build a Snowman?" She decided to humor him and say "Go away, Tommy!" after the first section.
Her mother had come into her room to inform her that it was lunch, only to see her beneath the blankets. Michelle said she had a headache and felt like going to bed early. Her mother had felt her forehead and asked how much it hurt, even insisting on bringing a small lunch up, causing Michelle to express her annoyance.
Privately, she didn't mind. In fact, she enjoyed it. Her mother rarely fussed over her in such a way. That was usually reserved for Tommy, even when he wasn't sick.
She ate the food her mother brought up, grateful that it wasn't Healthy Eating Week now, before trying to go to sleep, which was harder than she thought. She was so eager to wake up the next day to see if what would happen, but at the same time so nervous about it that her body couldn't seem to decide whether it wanted to sleep.
She forced herself to relax and think about random things, which always helped. She even found herself recounting the day's events, which she rarely did. She had thought it was a good way to help her get to sleep when she was younger, but her days were so often filled with embarrassing, painful memories that she just wanted to block from her memory. Thanks to a certain someone.
When she woke up, the first thing she noticed was the change in location. For one thing, the blankets were fancier, thick with intricate gold designs on the hem that she ran her fingers over. The bed was also taller, and a darker wood instead of the medium brown on her regular bed. She didn't notice at the moment, though, as the other differences were far more drastic.
Aside from the fancier bed, the room was much barer than her usual one. The only things to be seen other than the dark wooded walls was a plain white wardrobe and set of drawers with several of her belongings scattered on top. Oh, and a window on the wall facing the door.
She walked over to the window, aware that she was wearing the white nightgown she had when she was younger. Three guesses why she didn't have it anymore. She had to stand on her tiptoes to peek out, surprised to see several white, snow-lathered trees nestled together in front of a light purple sky. It did occasionally snow in her neighborhood, but not this much. It also looked very early, like the sun had just finished its journey to the sky.
Her family must be on vacation, she decided. They had rented a motel or something. She remembered going skiing a few times and staying in a cabin. This must be another Christmas.
She scratched her hair, hating how messy it was after she woke up. To her surprise, it was even finer than it usually was. As she ran her fingers down it, she realized it was shorter, stopping just below her shoulders instead of down her back like usual. It was the kind of hair she remembered having when she was ten or eleven. Her first instinct was to brush it, but there were more important things to sort out first.
She opened the door of the room, seeing a short hallway turning right and leading to a living room. It was currently vacant, with an empty fireplace under the television, cosy couches in front, and a coffee table with a miniature Christmas tree. At one end was a glass door and large windows looking out to an unfamiliar verandah in front of a frosty street. But what stood out to her most were the suitcases against one wall.
Remembering something, Michelle walked over to the fireplace and fiddled with the knobs. When she turned on one, the empty hearth roared to life, flames crackling inside.
She remembered thinking that was so cool and constantly turning it on and off, much to her parents' annoyance. Now that she thought about it, the room looked familiar. Her family had gone to this place for more than one Christmas.
She had to get ready before thinking of anything else. Her first instinct was to look in the mirror to see how different she looked. Would she still be a thirteen-year-old, or would she be younger? Or, preferably, older?
There was a door at the other end of the hallway in front of her room, which Michelle found led to a bathroom. She walked slowly to the sink, closing her eyes for dramatic effect as she approached the mirror. After opening them, she started. She never got used to seeing her younger self.
She could tell she was eleven, with her ugly bangs and brown freckles dotting her cheeks. Her mom said they looked cute, but Michelle knew she was just saying that. She looked so geeky at this age. She was glad she had outgrown it quickly.
After brushing her teeth, she retreated to her room to brush her hair, picking up the comb and mirror on top of the set of drawers. After managing to tame her hair into being somewhat manageable, she braided it into two neat pigtails. She knew this would make her look even more geeky, but she couldn't care too much when she was going back in time. Actually, at that age, she hadn't cared much how her hair looked, as long as it was out of her face. She was very different back then.
She slipped out of her nightgown, tucking it into the wardrobe, and slipped on a sleek red dress she found inside. She usually wore it when going out, but it was just casual enough that she could wear it at home too. Being well-dressed always improved her confidence. It was almost enough to outweigh the knowledge that Tommy would inevitably ruin her clothes.
When she entered the living room again, her mother was there too, in her dressing robe and holding a steaming mug of coffee. She had long, wavy brown hair now, almost as messy as Michelle's had been upon waking up. She smiled drearily at Michelle.
"Hi, honey." Michelle noticed the fireplace was now off again.
Her mother's smile vanished as she saw Michelle looking at the fireplace. "Michelle, how many times have I told you and your brother not to turn that on every hour? It wastes the electricity, you know. I had the same problem with telling you to keep the lights at home off."
She paused, clearly expecting a protest or defense from Michelle. "You're quiet this morning."
Michelle finally found her voice. "Just, uh... getting used to this place."
Mrs. Webster nodded. "It is rather different, isn't it? But you were rather excited about it last night." She chuckled, as if remembering.
Suddenly, Michelle remembered. They went here to go skiing. She had loved it when they came here, hating having to leave and wanting to take up skiing lessons at home, but her parents had refused, claiming there weren't any lessons nearby. They went to the same resort next year, and Michelle had been very excited to go skiing again.
Her mother must've noticed her silence as she was lost in memories. "Oh, right. Breakfast. How could I forget? You always need it to be verbal in the morning." She chuckled again. "Should we order or go out?"
"Uh... go out, I guess." She answered without thinking.
"Either way, there's not going to be many healthy options, if the menu is any indication," she acknowledged with a sigh. "I thought my diet was going well."
A diet? thought Michelle. She thought her mother was born a health freak.
Mrs. Webster sat down on the couch and switched the overhead television on, lazily flicking through the channels as she talked.
"It's about six, and we're set to go skiing at eight. I'll have to wake your dad and brother up. Of course, it'll be a hassle to. I wish they woke up as early as you."
Michelle was surprised by how talkative her mother was this morning. She couldn't remember her being too much of a morning person, though she certainly was compared to her dad and brother.
"I could wake them." Michelle didn't know why she suggested it.
"That'd be nice of you." She could hear the relief in her mother's voice. "At least Tommy will be a little less moody if you're the one to wake him up."
Michelle wondered what she meant by that. If she was eleven, Tommy was four now. She'd definitely find him cute. Most four-year-olds were. Appearance wise, that is.
Looking around, she saw a door on one side of the living room, next to a small connected kitchen. Opening it, she saw her father and brother fast asleep in a master bed. There probably wasn't anywhere else for Tommy to sleep. She decided to wake him first, knowing how grumpy her father was about being woken.
He was lying in the middle, wearing pullover pyjamas and hugging his prized tedy bear that he had outgrown by eight, his dark blond hair sticking up everywhere. Michelle smiled at the sight. No denying it, it was cute. For Tommy the Terror, that is.
She gently shook him, before remembering what a heavy sleeper her brother was. She firmly grasped his shoulders, being careful not to be too tight, and shook him as hard as she dared, not wanting an earful from her parents if he started crying. He simply squirmed a little and mumbled something, clutching his teddy bear tighter.
She was considering yelling at him when she got an idea. She reached out her hand, grasped his chin, and pulled it up just enough to expose his neck. Then she placed her other hand on his neck and started tickling, remembering how sensitive that area was to him.
He started squirming vigorously, then slowly opened his eyes. Upon becoming aware of the fingers on his neck, he let out a groan and reached up his little hands to pry them off, giggling slightly.
Michelle stopped then, though she secretly wanted to keep tickling him. After rubbing his eyes with an arm, he saw Michelle, and his face lit up.
"Shelly!"
Michelle smiled slightly. She remembered finding that nickname annoying, but she didn't know why now. It was too cute, especially in that little voice.
Then he frowned and pouted, seeming to remember he was supposed to be annoyed at being woken. "Why wake me?"
"We have to go skiing."
"Don't wanna." He buried his face into his pillow, still clutching his teddy bear.
"If you don't, I'll call Mom." Immediately after that threat, Michelle thought of a better idea.
"Don't you want to wake Dad?" She let a playful tone creep into her voice. "He's fast asleep. I bet you could wake him quicker than I could."
Tommy looked up slightly from his pillow at that. "I know! I jump on him."
"Good idea." Michelle said it both to Tommy and herself for thinking of a way to both convince him to get out of bed and wake her father.
He slowly sat up in bed and glanced at his father, who was lying on his side, snoring. He crawled over to him and lay over his torso. Then he pulled his legs up and began bouncing, clutching his father's shirt tightly.
Mr. Webster groaned at the uncomfortable weight on his body. He reached for his glasses on the nightstand—Michelle forgot he sometimes wore them back then—and tried to slip them on without success. He rolled over, to the surprise of Tommy who squealed as he fell onto the bed, and picked up his son and lifted him onto his stomach.
"What do you think you're doing, mister?" he questioned with mock sternness as Tommy started bouncing again. "Waking your old man at such an hour?"
"It was my idea." Michelle didn't know why she said it.
Her father glanced at her. His hair was sticking up in all directions and darker, closer to dark brown than light. "I don't know why both my children seem against me this morning."
"We're going skiing today," reminded Michelle. "Remember?"
"Not at this hour, surely." Her father "oof"ed as Tommy bounced on him.
"We have to get ready and get breakfast," she pointed out.
Mr. Webster gently helped Tommy off his stomach, dropping a kiss onto his forehead. "Alright, just give us a minute."
Soon, they were all dressed and sitting at a restaurant table, Tommy in his father's lap. He kept kissing the top of the child's head, causing him to giggle. Michelle always thought her mother doted on him more than her father.
"At least there's something decent on the menu." Her mother picked up a forkful of the vegetable omelette she had ordered.
Mrs. Webster frowned at her. "Honey, I wish you'd drop this diet of yours. It's clearly not working." He seemed to realize how poorly he phrased that. "Uh, I mean—"
"It's fine, Herman. I know what you meant." She sighed. "I just thought I could stand to be a little healthier."
"It's Christmas. Can't you take a break just this once?" he suggested.
She shook her head. "I probably could, if I hadn't taken so many breaks already." She shoved the eggs into her mouth, making a face. "Ugh. Too much salt."
Michelle concentrated on her own breakfast, noodles and a blueberry muffin. Tommy was practically inhaling his French toast while seated on his father's lap, getting the maple syrup all over his mouth.
"Honey, I wish you'd feed him," remarked Mrs. Webster. "He clearly can't do it himself."
Mr. Webster frowned at her. "Sharon, he has to learn. He's four now, we can't be babying him all the time."
"It just seems like a lot less hassle if we feed him."
"We didn't feed Michelle at this age," noted Mr. Webster.
Figures, thought Michelle. Not that she particularly cared if they did. The thought of herself at that age was weird, to say the least.
After breakfast, they returned to their cabin to get ready for skiing. Michelle didn't know whether she'd get classes or not. She remembered that she had to learn from an instructor one year and did it herself the next. Since she had forgotten most about skiing, she hoped it was the former.
She approached the topic while fixing her ski jacket next to her father. "Uh, Dad? Will I get classes on how to ski?" She tried to word it in a way that wouldn't seem weird regardless of whether she would.
Her father turned to her, surprised. "I told you, Michelle, not this year. You learned last time, remember? Unless you've forgotten already." His voice took on a playful tone by the end.
Crap. "Well... maybe I have," Michelle tried. "It has been a year, after all." She remembered trying to make sure she didn't forget everything she had been taught about skiing after leaving the lodge, but ended up forgetting very soon anyway.
Mr. Webster laughed. "Didn't you keep repeating what you learned about skiing in case you didn't forget? It'd be a shame if you did. I'll have suffered for nothing."
Michelle realized she was going to have to test her acting skills. "Well, you know..." She tried to make it seem like she was trying desperately to spit out something that she didn't want to. "I mean... I know I said I wouldn't forget, but... well..." She sheepishly looked down, hoping this was fooling him.
"Oh, Michelle. If you needed a refresher, you should've said so. I would've signed you up with an instructor, but it's too late now." Her father patted the top of her head sympathetically, but looked like he had been expecting this. "Don't worry, your mother and I can teach you."
Michelle realized her father probably knew she was in need of a refresher, but didn't put her in classes because he didn't want to offend her. Why had her younger self been so stubborn? And sporty? She didn't like any sports at fifteen.
After bundling herself up in her ski clothes, she decided to do something with her hair. She remembered a tutorial she had seen online. In front of the miror she held while in her room, she undid her pigtails and then did them again, but thinner, before joining the braids together on top of her head like a crown, kind of like the hairstyle Anna and Elsa wore in Frozen. Instead of tying the rest of her hair in a bun like the tutorial showed, she left it loose, not wanting her neck to be exposed to the cold.
Soon they were all in the car, off to the skiing zone. Michelle stared out the window, wondering if the snow she saw everywhere was real or manmade. Probably the latter, except on the far-off mountains.
She knew Tommy would be in a class with the little kids. Her parents would be skiing with her. They had gone skiing a few times themselves when they were younger. She wished she was in Tommy's class, as degrading as it would be to be placed with four-year-olds. At least she'd learn how.
"Why can't I go with Shelly?" Tommy complained as his parents pointed out his instructor to him.
"Because you don't know how to ski, Tommy," Mrs. Webster explained patiently. "Michelle does."
He pouted and crossed his arms.
Michelle slipped into her skis with some difficulty, requiring her parents' help. She saw Tommy with the other little kids and a young red-haired woman. She was kind of surprised that at least one of her parents wasn't also there to supervise him. The kids were too little to care that they'd be the only parents in their group.
The snow was pointing upwards, like a mountain. She slid one of her skis up a step, then the other. As she took another step, she waved her arms wildly to keep from falling, wondering if it'd be easier with those poles she always saw skiiers with. The next thing she knew, her parents were beside her, giving her directions.
She tuned out their voices as she saw the ski lift next to her. "Can't we go there?" She pointed.
"Alright, but you'll have to ski down," said Mrs. Webster. "We're here to ski, after all."
After riding up the ski lift, grateful Tommy wasn't next to her to sing his rendition of whatever Christmas song, they were facing down the mountain. Michelle remembered you had to make a triangle shape with your skis to stop. Her parents went down first, as gracefully as all the other skiers.
Michelle forced herself to do it without thinking. She tended to think a lot before doing things. She glided down rather neatly, but near the end, she saw a skier in front of her and tried hastily to stop, only to fall forward and trip headfirst into the snow as she swung her arms wildly in an attempt to break her fall, bringing the skier down with her.
She groaned, trying to grasp the snowy ground underneath her. She tried without success to get to her feet, noticing the other girl had already managed to do so.
"I'm so sorry!" exclaimed an embarrassed Michelle. Forcing herself into an upright position, she planted her mittened hands on the snow and tried to stand with all her might, but couldn't. "Could you help me...?"
The girl held out her hand, and Michelle gratefully accepted it as she pulled herself to her fet. "Thank you."
"Watch where you're going!" scolded the girl. She had wavy red hair under a cap, blue eyes, and a disdainful expression on her face.
"I'm sorry," Michelle apologized again.
"What're you doing going skiing when you're such a klutz?" she demanded. "You're—"
"Michelle!" Michelle heard her parents next to her, adding to her embarrassment. "Are you alright?" It was her mother talking. She dusted her off and scanned her up and down as if searching for damage.
"I'm fine," Michelle managed to reply. Thankfully, the girl had left when Michelle glanced sideways. She was quite mean, she decided. "Maybe I do need lessons."
"Don't worry, we all have falls," her father assured. "See, no one even noticed. They see stuff like that all the time."
He was right. Looking around, Michelle saw that everyone was continuing to ski without a glance thrown her way. Then again, it had been a little while since her fall.
She noticed her parents' gazes had travelled to Tommy's class, who was currently trying to climb up the snow.
"Michelle, we're just going to check on your brother, okay? Will you be alright on your own?"
Michelle almost rolled her eyes at her mother's question. She was waiting for her to say that. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Go on."
As her parents disappeared, Michelle pondered her time travel situation. She had to tell someone. She couldn't just keep going back in time. She couldn't reach Anthony's Antiques here. She couldn't tell her parents, or they'd have her locked up in a mental institute.
Actually, maybe she could. All she had to do was prove she was going back in time by stating things that were about to happen.
The only problem with that was that she didn't remember much about today. She could barely remember anything about the year when she was eleven, let alone a specific day. She could tell them things that happened a few weeks or maybe even days later, but by the time those things happened she'd be even further back in time. She wished she had tried telling her parents before, when she remembered what was about to happen, instead of trying to fit in.
Suddenly, another thought occurred to her. She could tell Tommy. At age four, he'd likely believe anything she said. Sure, they couldn't convince their parents, but maybe he could help her... somehow. She had to admit the idea was weak, but it was better than nothing.
As she approached Tommy's class, her parents didn't notice, too busy fussing over Tommy and reminding him he didn't have to do it if it was too scary for him. She couldn't believe she was voluntarily spending time around her brother.
Or could she? She had certainly been doing it a lot over the last few days.
She listened to his instructor reminding the kids of the tips, very basic stuff like turning your foot in the direction you wanted to go, as a small red-haired boy who looked a little like the girl Michelle had run into ascended the hill. After a while, he stopped and turned around, grinning triumphantly about a quarter of the way up the hill.
"Very good!" praised the instructor, clapping and urging the other kids to do the same. A few responded half-heartedly.
"But remember to look ahead of you, not at your skis." She walked closer to the red-haired boy. "Now, Michael, can you try turning to your left? Remember, move your foot."
Michael obliged, moving his foot left as his ski did so as well. He tentatively took another step, then another. At the instructor's suggestion to ski down, he did so, narrowing his skis into a triangle shape to stop.
As she encouraged the other kids to climb up, Michelle walked over to Tommy, who her parents were near. They noticed her then.
"Michelle! What are you doing here?" Her father sounded very surprised.
"Oh, I... uh..." She remembered to put her acting skills in motion. "You see, I don't remember how to ski... well, not as much as I thought... so..." She tried to make it look like this declaration was very hard for her to admit. She privately thought she deserved an Oscar for all the impressive acting she'd been doing during her time travel.
"Ah." Her mother nodded understandingly. "Perfectly alright, dear. Why didn't you say so?"
When her parents turned their attention to the current kid making her ascent up the hill, Michelle tapped Tommy on the shoulder. He ignored her at first, but when she did it more insistently accompanied by a hissed whisper, he turned to her, his face lighting up.
"Shelly!" He tried to wrap his little arms around her legs, the skis getting in the way.
Michelle was taken aback. Tommy had never responded to her this way from her memory. He had looked bored and apathetic with the lesson before she had made her presence known.
She bent down to his level, putting her face near his ear. "Listen, Tommy." She tried to lower her voice, but still make it heard. "I have to tell you something."
"What is it?" He sounded excited just from her talking to him.
"Tommy, why don't you try now?"
Michelle quickly straightened and pulled him off her at the sound of the instructor's voice, looking away in embarrassment to avoid her parents' glances that were no doubt aimed at her. It had clearly looked like they were hugging. Well, they were, kind of.
"I'll tell you later." She realized it was meaningless to say it after whispering it, since Tommy couldn't hear her.
He looked disappointed as he trudged away from her and reluctantly up the hill. Michelle cringed as she heard her mother speak up, no doubt about to comment on the uncharacteristic show of intimacy.
"It's nice of you to spend time with your brother, Michelle." Her mother sounded surprised and pleased. "I wish you would more. He looks up to you a lot."
"If you told him to ski down from the very top of the mountain, he'd probably do so," added Mr. Webster jokingly.
Tommy looking up to her? The very concept was laughable. And yet, all the evidence seemed to point to it.
After Tommy's turn, the class headed up together, following the instructor closely. When they reached a decent point, they turned another direction. The red-haired boy Michelle had seen was next to them, at the end of the line, walking the quickest and talking animatedly to Tommy, who he had seemed to make friends with.
"I wish I could've gone skiing with my sister," Michelle heard him say. "She's showing off somewhere. She loves doing that. She can be a pain, but she can also be nice."
"My sister, too." Tommy nodded. Michelle couldn't believe he had wanted to go skiing with her, unless it was to annoy her.
"Michael, wait!" the instructor called as he turned around and then abruptly started walking even faster, moving a little way away from the class. Michelle and her family were the closest, being at the end of the line.
The instructor started to go after him when a girl skiing down the hill crashed into him, both of them landing with startled cries and in a heap on the snowy ground. Moving closer, Michelle recognized the girl as the one she had bumped into herself earlier.
"Michael, are you alright?" The instructor helped him disentangle himself from the girl and get to his feet, dusting him off,
His eyes were fixed on the girl as she got up by herself. "Reva!" He sounded exasperated. "Why'd you do that?"
"I'm sorry, Michael," she apologized, looking legitimately concerned for a moment. Then she smiled fiendishly. "But I can't help it if you were in the way, can I?"
Michael cried out in anger as Reva laughed. The instructor fell silent, not seeming to see the need to intervene. "You're such a pain! I'm glad I didn't go skiing with you."
Reva's expression softened. "I'm sorry I couldn't. Maybe we can go skiing together tomorrow, okay?" She stepped closer and ran her hand gently once through his red hair.
"Okay," he agreed reluctantly.
Reva looked up, seeming to notice the class and instructor. "Sorry about that. Hope my brother's not giving you a hard time." Before giving her a chance to reply, she skied off, leaving a disappointed-looking Michael.
Michelle had assumed the girl was his sister before she had said so. She had felt a pang of deja vu when he said he had wanted to ski with her, and was surprised by how gentle she had become afterward. She seemed to care about her brother, even if she was quite hostile towards Michelle earlier.
As the kids continued through the snowy hill, toward the ski lift, Michelle turned to Tommy. "So, I was going to tell you..." Noticing her parents, she bent lower. "I've already been here before."
He looked at her. "You mean last year?"
"Shh!" She tried to quieten him, noticing her parents turning to stare at her. She lowered her voice. "You can't tell anyone. It's a secret."
His eyes widened, like Michelle trusting him with a secret was the best thing to ever happen to him. "What kind of—oof!" She clamped her hand over his mouth.
She nodded toward the ski lift they were approaching. Taking the hint, he fell silent, listening to the instructor tell them how to get off after reaching the top. She went on for quite a while, repeating herself a lot, and Michelle listened intently.
"Does she think she hasn't already said to lift the safety bar ten times?" one of the older kids quipped under her breath, causing her friend to giggle.
As they boarded the lift, Michelle was careful to take a seat with her brother, blocking Michael out of the way when he tried to. She gave him an apologetic look.
"Why do that?" grumbled Tommy. "I wanted to sit with Michael."
"I have to tell you, okay?" said Michelle. "Just you."
He brightened again at that. "Tell me what?"
Michelle hesitated. For a moment, she considered not telling him anything, What was the point? It wasn't like he could do anything about it.
"Shelly?" she heard him ask.
She tok a deep breath. "Listen, I think I'm... going back in time.
He gasped. "What?"
"I know it sounds weird. But it's true." Michelle paused. "It started when I was fifteen. Dad got a new clock, and..."
When she had finished explaining, Tommy stared at her, wide-eyed. "Wow."
"Do you believe me?" Michelle couldn't stop the pleading tone that crept into her voice. "I know it sounds crazy, but it's true."
He was silent for a moment. "But why mess the clock?"
Michelle cringed. She had tried to gloss over that part of the story, hoping Tommy didn't pay much attention to it. "I, uh..."
Should she lie? Say she just felt like pranking her dad?
No. She should tell the truth. She needed him to know every detail. Why did she care about hurting Tommy's feelings, anyway?
"I wanted to get you in trouble," she admitted. "I thought if I messed with the clock's head, Dad would blame you, since you were messing with it earlier."
"Why?" He sounded sad, turning puppy dog eyes on her. Damn. She had forgot how much he used them at that age.
"I wanted to get back at you, I guess," she admitted. "Mom and Dad were always blaming me for everything and letting you get away with everything."
"Why?" She had also forgotten how much he liked asking that question at that age.
She shrugged. "I don't know. I guess because you're younger."
"But why get back at me?" His puppy eyes were in full force now.
She turned her attention back to the front. They were almost at the top now. "I was... mad at you. For ruining my Christmas party."
"How?"
"You ruined all my presents." She didn't go more in depth, not considering it important. "And Mom and Dad didn't do anything. I just got mad."
"I sorry, Shelly." She turned back to him, seeing an adorable pout on his face.
She tried to brush it off. "Don't worry about it. You were only eight. Anyway, how—"
At her brother's squeal, Michelle whipped her head forward, realizing they were almost at the top. She lifted the safety bar just in time and, grabbing her brother's arm, stood up and slid down, squealing as they slipped and landed in a heap. The instructor rushed forward to help them up, but Michelle squealed as she felt the kids behind her bump into her, sending her down again.
"Michelle!"
"Michael! Are you alright?"
The people calling were her parents and the red-haired girl, Reva. She helped her brother up before Michelle felt the ski instructor and her parents help them up.
"Are you alright, dear?" Michelle assumed the question was directed at her, before noticing her parents fussing over Tommy, who was noticeably distressed.
Michelle turned her attention to Reva, who was telling her brother, "You really are a klutz." But there was an affectionate tone in her voice, and none of the genuine disdain she had when telling Michelle the same thing. She then ran a hand through his curly red hair, causing him to back away and scowl.
"Hey." Michelle spun around to see the red-haired instructor behind her. "Don't worry about that. A lot of little kids take falls."
"But I'm not a little kid," Michelle pointed out.
"Maybe not," she conceded. "Just remember the rules next time." She smiled slightly. "I'd bore you with all the safety tips again, but I've been told it's annoying of me."
"I was listening," said Michelle.
"I saw. I think you were the only one," she noted. "You know, I sometimes work at a summer camp, and the kids there joked that having so many rules was the camp's curse. That, and my insistence on following them."
"Oh." Michelle didn't really know what to say.
"I'm Liz, by the way. What's your name? I can't remember you being in my class."
"Michelle. My brother's Tommy," she informed.
"So you came to check up on him?"
"And to learn how to ski," she explained.
"Well, if you felt embarrassed about being in a class with little kids, there are ones for older people too," Liz informed. "Even adults."
Just then, Michelle's parents came over. "Michelle, are you alright?" Her mother dusted her off as she turned around.
"Fine, Mom," she replied, slightly embarrassed at being treated like a little kid.
"Well, we best get going," Liz spoke up, instructing each of the kids to follow her.
Michelle watched the little kids line up. She did feel better now that she had told Tommy everything, but she wanted some time alone now. She knew there wasn't much she could do without making it to Anthony's Antiques, and she felt more informed about skiing.
"I think I want to ski by myself now," she told her mother.
"Alright, dear. Yell to us if you need anything." She patted the top of her head.
"I will." Michelle slid over and made her way down the hill while Liz was instructing the other kids how to. She enjoyed the feeling of gliding down, feeling confident and free. She remembered why she had loved skiing so much.
As she was near the bottom, she felt a heavy force crash into her, sending her crashing face-first into the snow. How many times had that happened, exactly?
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" she heard an embarrassed voice apologize, exactly how she had done to Reva.
She felt the girl's weight get off her, and then a hand helping her to her feet. Accepting it, she saw it was a boy, not the same girl who had crashed into her.
Turning around, she saw a very tall girl looking down and biting one of her nails, clearly embarrassed. Something about her seemed familiar to Michelle.
She looked up once she saw Michelle staring at her, a blush tainting her cheeks. "I'm so sorry," she apologized again. "I—"
"Sarah, didn't I tell you to go slower?" the boy reprimanded. He was quite a bit shorter than her. "You weren't listening. I was yelling for you to stop."
She scowled at him. "Okay, I get it! I just couldn't hear you all that well. Geez."
"I told you a million times—"
"You didn't need to!" she snapped. "I knew what to do."
The boy rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, I'm sure you—"
"Michelle?" Michelle jumped at the sound of her name. Sarah was staring straight at her.
Michelle remembered now. She had been friends with Sarah when she was younger, in primary school. Well, sort of. They didn't interact too much and she had much closer friends, though they did sit together at lunch and get along well. She also remembered her being rather shy and awkward.
Realizing she was waiting for a response, Michelle said, "Oh, hi, Sarah. I didn't know you'd be here."
She noticed Sarah's brother trying to leave, obviously grateful for the opportunity. She couldn't remember his name.
Sarah glanced sideways, noticing him leaving too, and then turned back to Michelle. "Oh, I didn't want to. I don't really like skiing."
"Then why'd you come here?" If what she remembered about Sarah was accurate, Michelle already knew the answer.
"Because of my parents. Well, them and my brother," she explained. "He loves this kind of stuff."
Michelle nodded. Sarah's parents were always forcing her to try out new things, much to her annoyance. "It seems like he ditched you."
"Oh, I could tell he wanted to do that for a while," admitted Sarah. "To be honest, the feeling's mutual."
"But why? He's just trying to help." Michelle was a bit annoyed by the way Sarah had snapped at him. True, she did the same thing to Michael, but only when he was being an annoying pest. Her brother seemed like he was just trying to be helpful, even if he was a bit annoying about it.
"I know," sighed Sarah. "It's just... embarrassing. I mean, he's younger than me, and he acts older. I know he's trying to help, but..." She paused, looking embarrassed.
"I get it," said Michelle, though she didn't, not really. She'd love for Tommy to be helpful to her. Well, since he was so much younger than her, it would be quite degrading. But it was different, since Sarah's brother seemed only a year or two younger than her. "But it was nice of him to help. I mean, he could've just gone skiing by himself instead of helping you."
"He didn't really have a choice," retorted Sarah. "I mean, my parents made him look after me. Well, not look after, but... you know, made sure I knew what to do and everything. Neither of us were happy about it."
"Couldn't they help you instead?" asked Michelle.
"Oh, they're not much for skiing," explained Sarah. "They came here for Aaron. If anything, I should be looking after him. I'm older."
"It's probably just because he's better at skiing than you," suggested Michelle.
Sarah sighed. "I guess, but I have a feeling that even if I wasn't, they'd make him look after me. Just because I have..." She paused. "Nevermind."
"What?"
"Nothing." Michelle suspected she knew what Sarah was talking about. She remembered asking one of her teachers why Sarah was acting so weird when she was just trying to be friendly. She had said she was shy, but she also said something else. Something about her having autism. It was when Michelle had learned what that word meant. "But he is trying to help."
"I know, but..." Sarah paused, as if trying to think of something. "You have a brother, right? How would you like it if he was looking over your shoulder all the time?"
"That'd be weird. He's eigh... four," Michelle quickly amended.
Sarah sighed exasperatedly. "Yeah, but... oh, you know what I mean. If he was older, would it feel any less weird?"
Michelle thought about it. Tommy was even more of a brat when he was older, so if, for some reason, her parents put him in charge of her, it'd be even easier for him to make her miserable.
But... if he took care of her the same way Aaron seemed to do for Sarah, a bit bossy and dismissive, but still taking time to help... she'd really like it, honestly.
"To be honest? I'd like it," she admitted. "I mean, it would be a bit annoying, but not more annoying than my brother is."
"Your brother's cute."
"Maybe now, but not so much at home, I tell ya," informed Michelle, talking about his later years.
Sarah spun her head around, hearing a loud, whooping laugh. Aaron was gliding down the snow next to two other boys, before coming to a graceful stop and chatting to them. Something he said made one of the boys laugh and playfully punch him on the shoulder.
Michelle wondered whether she should speak up as Sarah continued to stare at them. She decided to leave instead. Maybe it was rude, but from what she remembered of Sarah, she didn't like talking to people all that much.
"Sarah, what's wrong?" She was about to head off when she heard a voice. It was Aaron, He had realized Sarah staring at them. She turned around to watch.
"Oh, nothing," replied Sarah, beginning to turn around.
But Aaron came up to her, ignoring his friends as they expressed their annoyance. "Do you want me to help you again?"
"No! It's fine," she insisted.
"If you do, it's fine," he said. "I'm sorry for leaving. But, you know, I wanted to do my own thing."
"But what about your friends?"
"They can wait a bit, can't they?" shrugged Aaron. "Besides, they have each other for company."
Sarah paused for a moment, then said, "No, really. You can go. I'll be fine."
Aaron hesitated. "Well, if you say so..."
Sarah turned around as he left. "Oh, Michelle. I didn't know you were still here."
"Why'd you tell him to leave?" asked Michelle. "He really wanted to help you."
"I don't like skiing much, anyway," shrugged Sarah. "The last thing I need is Aaron showing off how much better he knows than me."
Michelle got an idea. "Why don't I help you?"
"Really?"
"Yeah. I was watching my brother in his ski class, and I learned quite a bit."
"So you're teaching me what you were taught?" surmised Sarah.
"Yeah, pretty much," admitted Michelle. "It really is fun if you give it a try."
She paused. "Well... alright. But just for a little bit."
"First off, if you want to move your ski, move your foot..."
She talked to Sarah for a while. She was annoyed at first, saying her brother had already taught her all this, but learned some tips did help, such as relaxing her body. Michelle noticed she tensed up while skiing, likely from nervousness.
"Aaron tried to tell me to relax, but I just snapped at him," recalled Sarah.
"I hope you won't snap at me," joked Michelle.
She also kept her eyes focused on her skis instead of in front of her. When Michelle told her not to, Sarah said she was just scared of crashing like she did before.
"You're more likely to crash if you don't look where you're going," pointed out Michelle.
"Yeah, that's true." She looked up, but then tensed up again.
"You're doing it again."
Sarah tried to relax, but found it difficult while also looking where she was going. "I guess I can only do one or the other," she surmised.
"It's fine." Michelle walked closer to Sarah. "At least try to relax your toes."
Sarah seemed to do so, though the rest of her body was still rigid. She walked forward slowly a few steps, before going a bit faster.
"See! You're doing it!" praised Michelle.
"No! I can't," cried Sarah. "I'm sorry, but skiing just isn't for me. It's too hard, and it's too cold, and I just don't want to." The look on her face was pure panic and agitation.
"Okay, okay," conceded Michelle. "Sorry if I wasted your time."
"No, it's fine," amended Sarah. "Thanks for trying to teach me. I'm just not very good at it." She paused. "I never told Aaron that."
"Huh?"
"I just snapped at him for being bossy and forcing me. I never thought that he was actually trying to help me and I wasn't trying to learn."
"But you are trying to learn," Michelle pointed out.
"With you, maybe. But with Aaron, I refused to even try. I was just mad about having to go skiing and him bossing me around. He was probably mad at me, too." She craned her neck, as if trying to search for her brother. "Thank you, Michelle, but I think I have to leave. I have to tell Aaron something."
"Go ahead," said Michelle. She watched Sarah proceed up the hill, much more confidently than before. After a while, she spotted her brother with some friends. They had stopped skiing and were talking amongst themselves. After a while, Sarah went up to Aaron and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around, and they started talking. Michelle watched them, trying to guess what they were saying.
Then Sarah, Aaron, and the other boys positioned their skis and pointed left. Aaron went first, then Sarah, then the other boys.
"Michelle!" Michelle turned her head as she heard her mother calling, along with her father and brother. Their cheeks were rosy and their hair was dishevelled, most of it exposed from under their caps. They looked like they'd had the time of their lives. "It's time to leave, dear."
"Tommy here wants to stay longer," informed Mr. Webster, gesturing to Tommy who was bouncing up and down and whining. "Hope you won't give us the same trouble."
"Oh, no," said Michelle quickly. "I've had enough skiing for one day."
"You hear that, bud?" Mr. Webster looked down at Tommy. "It's two against one."
Tommy's lower lip trembled, and he let out an ear-splitting wail. Michelle cringed and raised her gloved hands to her ears. Her mother did the same.
"Alright, alright," conceded Mr. Webster. "Just five more minutes. But I really mean it, five more minutes. Not six, not seven—"
"Yayy!" Tommy stopped crying so quickly it made Michelle doubt the sincerity of his tears and ran towards her, almost stumbling but managing to catch his balance. "Ski, Shel!"
Michelle felt her irritation subside at the arms around her waist. She gently pried his hands off, and he tried to run in the other direction.
"Don't worry, Shel," Mr. Webster told her. "I bet in about thirty seconds, he'll be so exhausted he'll pass out."
He was partially right. After about a minute, Mr. Webster returned with Tommy in his arms to Michelle and her mother, who were standing in the same spot.
"Back so soon?" asked Mrs. Webster with a knowing tone in her voice.
"The little guy wore himself out," explained Mr. Webster, looking down at Tommy affectionately. "Can you blame him?"
A few minutes later, they had changed out of their skis and was in the heated car, Tommy asleep in his baby seat.
"When we go home, we'll relax and have a nice dinner later," decided Mrs. Webster. The idea sounded very appealing to Michelle. "Did you enjoy skiing, Michelle?"
"Yeah. It was great," replied Michelle truthfully.