Forever by Judy Blume Page B

tripped over myself. Both of us were laughing by then.
     “Let the ski slide across the snow . . . don’t try to raise it.”
    â€œOh . . . like this?” I asked.
    â€œVery good,” he said, taking my arm.
    Somehow we made it to the chairlift. “Just grab theside and sit down when the lift comes,” Michael told me. “Ready . . .
     now!” I sat down and was surprised that I landed in the chair and that Michael was
     right beside me. Before I had a chance to think about it we were going up.
    Michael pulled the safety bar down, looked at me and said,
     “You’re going to love it.”
    I nodded and tried to smile back.
    â€œWe’re getting off at the beginners’ slope so you
     don’t have to worry.”
    â€œI’m not worried.”
    â€œYou look scared to death.”
    â€œDon’t be silly . . . I can’t wait to learn to
     ski.” But I was thinking, we’re going up so high . . . how will I ever get
     down? My father was right . . . I am going to break a leg . . . I am going to fall off
     this chairlift and break a leg . . . maybe even two . . . probably two legs and an arm .
     . . possibly more than that even.
    â€œGetting off is tricky,” Michael said and he flipped the
     safety bar up, leaving me free to fall off in mid-air. “Just do what I do . . .
     point your skis up.”
    I did what he said.
    â€œThat’s it . . . now get ready . . . we’re going to
     stand up in a minute and then just let the lift push you away . . . got it?”
     Michael grabbed me but I forgot everything he’d said and he had to push me out of
     the way or the lift would have whacked me in the head and naturally when he pushed me
     like that I fell over.
    â€œDamn!”
    Michael laughed.
    â€œIt’s not funny.”
    â€œYou better get used to it. You’re going to be on the ground a
     lot today, but cheer up . . . tomorrow you’ll be an expert.”
    â€œHa!”
    He helped me to my feet. My nose was running. “Here . . .” he
     said, pulling a tissue out of his pocket.
    I blew my nose.
    â€œI forgot to tell you . . . everybody’s nose runs when they
     ski.”
    â€œSwell.”
    â€œReady?”
    â€œAre you sure I’m going to be able to do this?”
    â€œDidn’t you tell me how coordinated you are . . . a tennis
     whiz . . . a modern dance freak . . .”
    â€œI never said whiz and I certainly never
     said freak !”
    â€œRelax . . . anybody can learn to ski.”
    â€œI hope so. Just one simple question before we start,
     okay?”
    â€œSure . . . go ahead.”
    â€œHow am I going to get down the mountain?”
    â€œYou’re going to ski down, Kath.”
    â€œI was afraid you’d say that.”
    Michael was right. I spent more time on the ground than on my feet on my
     first try. But by noon I’d been up and down the beginners’ slope three
     times. On my third try I didn’t even fall when I got off the chairlift and if I
     wasn’t skiing exactly, well, at least I was doing something.
    Sharon and Ike were already at the lodge, saving a
     table for lunch. “Hey . . . how’d it go?” Ike asked.
    â€œYou wouldn’t believe how good she’s doing,”
     Michael told them. “I’m really proud of her!”
    â€œDid you enjoy it?” Sharon asked.
    â€œYes, it’s fun . . . it’s a very good
     feeling.”
    â€œInvigorating,” Ike said.
    â€œThat’s it . . . invigorating.”
    â€œAnd it builds up a good appetite,” Sharon said.
     “I’m starving . . .”
    â€œLet’s get on line,” Michael said. “I don’t
     want to waste a lot of