Chapter 4-Fresh Powder
Right after Dan was tidied up and put in a rather fetching snow suit, Chris, Elise, Wander and Sylvia went to the local resort. Elise and Chris were pretty good skiiers so slaloming down the hill was no sweat for them. As for Dan, he couldn't quite get the hang of the 'pizza' 'french fry' pattern the instructor had shown him. Over the PA, 'Marshmellow World' played gayly and Dan started to have the traces of a grin on his newly shaven face. Sylvia passed under him and caused him to land atop him.
'Hold on tightly, little man !', she said. He did as he was told. He had no idea they were atop a massive mountain top and the slope to the bottom was steep. Screaming like a girl, the two of them slowly ascended the pinnacle of the mountain and came swooshing down roughly akin to the speed of sound. Sylvia was whooping so loudly that others could hear it from miles away. Dan was still screaming like a girl until they reached the finish of 'Excel Hill'. His hair was frayed on all ends as if he had stuck his finger in a light socket on purpose.
'Ha ha ! Look at your hair ! You should see your face !', Sylvia chortled. Wander borrowed Chris' cell phone and snapped photos of him still holding on to Sylvia's neck for dear life. One moment he was moping, emotional, brooding and dark. The next, he had felt such a rush of adrenaline that he wanted to take on the Excel Hill alone this time.
'I want to try it this time on my own. If I am going to overcome this fear, I'd better do it now.', he said. He swallowed hard. He knew he would rue his decision but there was no turning back. The powder was 'choice' as Chris would've said, back in his surfer heyday.
'You can do it, buddy.', Chris exhorted him, patting him on the back. A jazzy version of 'Winter Wonderland' appropriately played in the background while Dan took a massive breath and exhaled. Down at the bottom of the hill was one of his classmates that always said he would never amount to anything. Well, he'd show Mr. Tim Lyancowsky who was in control of his fears !
'Hey, Tim ! Eat my POWDER !', he yelled from the top of the hill. The lot of them gasped as he began to do unheard of tricks in skis from top to the bottom of the slope, catching the eye of everyone there. The people just stood, flabberghasted, in complete silence. When he landed at the bottom, perfectly, someone held up a handmade sign that read '10.0'. The crowd practically erupted in laughter. Tim Lyancowsky rolled his eyes, removed an arrant piece of amber fluffy hair from his perfecty coiffed head and stormed off in a huff.
'You're still a loser, Dan !', he said, but no one heard him over the outburst of cheering.