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When Kiara takes a fall while skiing and breaks her leg, she is heartbroken. Without the ski team, what does she have left? She starts to hang out with a geeky band member.

“Kiara” Matthew calls. I ski over to him gracefully and we make our way over to the freestyle trail, the music from my earbuds softly drifting into my ears. The tall lights cast a warm glow over the fresh white snow as it drifts down to the ground and the cold breeze bites at my face and neck. I breathe in deeply, reveling in the peacefulness that has settled over the mountain, so different from the loud hubbub of customers during the day.

“Kiara, remember this trail could cause serious injury!” Matt jokes as we brush past the bright red sign.

“Don’t forget about death! Ski and Snowboard at your own risk.” I tease right back, quoting the warning poster.

“

We start down the easy trail, avoiding the jumps and tricks the first time to warm up. Our paths loop widely, pressing a crisscross pattern into the powdery snow. When Matt and I reach the bottom of the trail, I click off both my skis to turn on the ski lift, stumbling over the clunky boots.

“Even after ten years of skiing, I still can’t walk in these bulky things” I complain jokingly. I love everything about skiing, cumbersome boots and all.

Dragging his snowboard behind him, Matt joins me on the lift and we soar over the quiet mountain, above the white iced treetops. My music quietly plays in the background.

The moment we get to the top again, “Race you down!” Matt shouts, grinning. He can never resist challenging someone to a race.

“Only if you want to lose, Bowman,” I taunt.

“Bring it, Knight”

And then we’re off, soaring down the mountain. I feel my hair flying behind me and the wind howling past my ears. I bend my knees and hunch against the wind to gain even more speed, until I feel like I’m flying. It’s the best feeling in the world.

I tilt my head back, so caught up in the moment I almost miss the mound in front of me. Almost.

I expertly glide up the jump, and launch myself into a flip. Before I know it, I’m flying through the air, head over heels, having the time of my life.

But then something changes. The ground appears just inches in front of my face and I realize I’m not going to make it. I hear a scream echoing from far away, and register Matt yelling my name desperately before I crash.

And then the world goes black.

■ ■ ■

I wake to a buzzing noise in my head, like a bunch of bees decided to pick up and do their bee thing in there. Gradually, the sound subsides into a din of worried conversations and my eyes gradually focus, until I can make out a figure in a long white coat leaning over me.

“Ah, she’s coming around” he says in a British accent as I blink up at him, confused. And then I’m even more confused as a crowd of people suddenly appear above me, frantically asking questions and searching my face.

“Are you okay, honey?”

“You really scared us there!”

“What happened?”

“Does your head hurt?”

“Is your leg okay?”

I become aware of a dull throbbing in my right leg and open and close my mouth, trying to speak.

“Oh, here’s some water.” the British man, who I am beginning to realize is a doctor, chirps cheerfully. I tilt my head back and am helped into a sitting position so I can swallow. As I sip the cool, refreshing water slowly, millions of questions race through my mind, like why I’m in the hospital and what happened to my leg. Bit by bit, my memory of the past night returns.

However, despite all these thoughts, the first thing to pop out of my mouth is, “Where are my earbuds?”

■ ■ ■

As the days pass by, I find myself getting more and more bored. I can’t read, because my grade 3 concussion makes the words swim in front of my eyes. Watching TV or having a conversation is out of the question too, since my head starts to ache if I concentrate on anything too hard. Or, well, at all. So, I resort to spending my days listening to music, softly, and just daydreaming.

One day, my thoughts stray to the first time I skied at Mountain Creek.

It was a dark and stormy night… No, just kidding. It was actually a slightly cool, blindingly sunny morning. My mother and I had just walked into the rental shop after purchasing lift tickets and a beginner’s ski lesson for me. As we entered the wood building, I smelled sawdust and hot chocolate, a scent that is now familiar and comforting to me. I remember how scared I was, of shooting down a mountain with nothing more than some slabs strapped to my boots, and my music was blasting through my earbuds. I didn’t even notice when a friendly worker offered to help me find my boot size until my mom gently nudged my arm. I glanced at his worn-down, peeling name sticker that said Ethan, and shyly smiled at him.

Funny how uncomfortable I was around him back then, I think, Now, he’s one of my closest friends.

Ethan and I worked our way through the shop, picking up tiny beginner’s skis and a huge, clunky helmet. Even at seven, I was quick at getting geared up. Within minutes, I was ready to go.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but one of our workers had to leave. She was supposed to teach a beginning snowboarder, the same age as your daughter. Would it be okay if they joined? We’ll give you 30% off for the inconvenience?” A gangly, acne-infested teen appeared, panting like he had just ran up a mountain. He looked really nervous, and as soon as my mom agreed, ran off to inform the manager.

So I found myself face to face with a blue-eyed boy with tousled light brown hair.

“Hello,” he started, after an awkward moment, “My name’s Matthew, but you can call me Matt. What’s yours!”

I shyly smiled a little and quietly respond, “K-Kiara?”

“Okay,” Matt said, “Cool name!”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“Alright, children, let’s start skiing and snowboarding! My name is Jon, What are your’s?”

A friendly man with bright eyes and sparse white hair greeted us cheerfully.

“I’m Matthew, but everyone calls me Matt,” he announced importantly, “and this is Kiara,”

“Nice to meet you Matt, and Kiara. Okay, so to begin, I’m going to teach you how to…”

■ ■ ■

Just ten short minutes later, I found myself staring down the bunny slope, swimming in my too-big ski jacket with tears in my eyes. I was itching to pull my earbuds out of my pocket, but was too petrified to move a muscle.

“Okay, so just start down the slope and lean to either side to turn.” Jon instructed. He made it sound so easy.

“Come on,” Matt encouraged, “It’ll be fun!” but I adamantly shook my head, “I’m scared!”

“It’s okay, I’ll do it with you,” he prompted, taking my hand as Jon looked on curiously, “Just go down really slowly and I’ll be right there” Matt said, soothing me.

Together, the two of us made our way down the bunny slope, painstakingly slowly for Jon, I’m sure. I kept a firm grip on Matt’s hand the entire time, and we supported each other. Twenty minutes later, the three of us reached the bottom of the slope. As Jon gave us some advice for the next run, I glanced at Matthew, and I hoped I would be friends with that blue-eyed, brown-haired boy forever

■ ■ ■

Back to my painful stay in the hospital, I’m just sitting there, bored out of my mind. The only light in my dark, dreary existence is the daily allowance of watery soup and bland sandwiches.

Now, you might be saying, “Aren’t you being a bit dramatic, Kiara?” I’m really not. The rock-hard mattress is making my legs sore, the ratty sheets are chafing against my skin, and it honestly sounds like a library.

Okay, so maybe I am being a little dramatic.

The covers and bed are plush and soft, the food is decent (for a hospital, at least), and it’s only suffocatingly silent in here because I broke my last pair of earbuds and I’m still waiting for my mom to bring me some more.

Just then, I hear the thud of footsteps outside the door.

“Hi Kiara, I got your earbuds. Sorry it took me so long.” my mom softly steps into the room. “How’re you feeling?”

“As good as I can be with a tibial shaft fracture!” I say with as much enthusiasm and positivity as I can muster.

My shinbone is fractured, and I have to use a splint until I recover, but I’ll still have to go to physical therapy for a few months after.

“Mom, can I have the earbuds please?” I hold out my hand politely.

“Of course, honey. I have to take your brother to his baseball practice, but I can come back after, if you want.” she offers, but the dark circles beneath her eyes and the weary, tired expression on her face reveals that she really just wants to go home and rest.

“No thanks, mom. Now that I have my earbuds, I’ll be fine.”

And so I find myself ending yet another day alone in my room in the hospital.

■ ■ ■

I spend the next day mostly listening to music. It takes me the entire day to get through my playlist. I have everything, from pop, to ‘80’s ballads, to country, to Broadway, to Taylor Swift breakup songs.

Music has always been my escape. Whenever I’m feeling sad, scared, or worried, I can just turn on my music and everything would get better. I even tried playing guitar a few years ago, but I didn’t have enough time because of ski practice.

That makes me think about whether I’ll be able to ski competitively again. Skiing is my life. I’m on the racing team at Mountain Creek, with Matt and most of my other friends. That’s where I spend all my free time. If I can’t ski again, what would I do with my life? I gave so much up for my dream, and now it might be for nothing. Before I know it, I’m embarrassingly bawling my eyes out. Just as I’m beginning to recollect myself, the doctor walks in cheerfully, but his smile fades as he notices my puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks,

“What’s the matter, Miss. Knight?” his concerned tone a sharp contrast from his usual care-free nature.

“Nothing, nothing,” I say, forcing a smile onto my face and trying to sound like I wasn’t just sobbing. “I was just wondering if I’ll be able to ski again after I recover.”

The doctor looks conflicted. “Well, you will be able to start walking again in about a month, and your splint gets taken off in three months, but I would not recommend skiing again for at least six.”

“Okay, that’s not too long…” I trail off. It seems like forever, right now.

“Anyhow, I just wanted to ask if you wanted tomato or asparagus soup for dinner tonight. The chef could make either, so she wants your opinion.” He says cheerfully.

That’s the good thing about living in a small town. With it’s population of just over 5,000, Port Jervis is nothing if not small. There are only a few other people in the hospital right now, so I get to pick dinner often. And breakfast. And lunch.

“Tomato, definitely,” I smile, “Do you even need to ask?”

“My thoughts exactly, Miss. Knight”

■ ■ ■

A week later, I’m lounging comfortably on my bed, watching Modern Family and cuddling with my dog, Ozzy Pawsbourne. He’s named after Ozzy Osbourne, the legendary English singer.

Suddenly, the door slams open and Matt strolls in, dropping his book bag on the floor casually.

“Yeah, just come on in, you don’t have to ask or anything.” I sniff, pretending to be annoyed, but Matt just grins and plops down next to me on the bed.

“Thanks! How was your day?” he greets me

“Kinda boring, but don’t you have ski practice or homework to do?” I wonder

“It seems like someone doesn’t want me, her totally awesome, super cool, best friend around, so I’ll just be going now.” he acts like he’s miffed and stands up to walk away.

“Wait, no! I’m very happy that you’re here instead of doing homework and not failing all your classes! Just don’t abandon me to the solitary confinement of my room due to my immobile leg.” I complain.

“You’re not completely solitary, you have your dog. Don’t you like to talk to it?”

“First, Ozzy Pawsbourne is not an it he’s a he. And, second, he doesn’t talk back or like watching Modern Family.”

“FIne, fine, I’ll stay” Matt jokes. He lays down on the bed, next to me… and promptly falls asleep.

“Okay, thanks for the company.”

■ ■ ■

“Kiara, Matthew, I’m home! I have the homework Cameron dropped of for you, Kiara.” my mom calls up the stairs. Matt jerks awake and glances around sleepily, “What… I’m awake, Mrs. Smith.”

“Is pizza good for dinner?” my mom continues.

“Pizza’s always good, Mrs. Knight.” Matt jokes, instantly alert, and I laugh. How Matthew isn’t obese from all the greasy pizza he’s constantly chowing down, I don’t know, but he has managed to maintain the short, lean figure that’s best for skiing. A lot of people think we’re perfect for each other, with our similar builds, appearances, and love for skiing, but Matt and I are just friends, nothing more. Best friends, but nothing romantic’s going on.

At the mention of pizza, Ozzy jumps off my bed and dashes downstairs as fast as his short little legs can take him.

“I swear, that dog loves pizza almost as much as you.” I comment to Matt, chuckling a little at Ozzy’s desperation.

“Almost as much,” Matt grins. He grabs my hand and pulls me downstairs.

■ ■ ■

“Mmm, this is good pizza.” Matt mumbles through a mouthful of pepperoni.

“That’s what you say every time.” I wrinkle my nose in disgust. Ozzy nudges my foot with his cute wet nose, and pleads with me with his adorable puppy-dog eyes.

“No, Oz, you can’t have any pizza. Remember, you got sick last time.” Still, he persists and whimpers up at me.

“Okay, fine” I give in, “but only one small piece.” Matt raises his eyes at me from across the table. I stare right back.

“We both know you’re going to end up giving that dog half the pie,” Matt argues.

“I’m sorry, but he looks so sad when I say no…” I trail off, knowing what Matt is going to say.

“No he doesn’t, he can’t understand what you’re saying.” Matt counters, “I don’t get why you talk to him anyways. There’s no point, Ozzy is just a dog.”

“Just a dog? Ozzy is so much more than just a dog! And he does listen to me when I talk!” I defend, annoyed.

“Yeah, whatever” Matt rolls his eyes.

“What kind of ice cream do you kids want?” my mom calls from the kitchen, interrupting our argument. Ozzy immediately perks up as Matt immediately starts protesting at her calling us kids. I smile to myself. Home sweet home.

■ ■ ■