Sometimes By Moonlight by Heather Davis Page A

after a few weeks of Mrs. Einhorn’s instruction, I’d gotten the hang of it. Marie-Rose, whose family owned a ski chalet somewhere, was an expert in both cross-country and downhill. If I hadn’t known her, I might have hated her for her perfectly prissy, annoyingly cute matching pink ski coat and pants. My own skiing get-up was a mish-mash of what I’d brought with me and a few things I’d purchased in town.
     
    “Come on, where were you? And don’t say the bathroom,” Marie-Rose said, catching up to me. “I checked.”
     
    I adjusted my hand on my poles and pushed harder so I could take advantage of the slope of the hill. “You were asleep when I came back,” I said.
     
    “Yes, I was tired of waiting for you. So, tell me.”
     
    We both tucked slightly, riding the downward momentum. “You asked me to keep you out of trouble, so I’m keeping you out of it. I’m doing things on my own.” I didn’t mean for the words to sound harsh, but the look on Marie-Rose’s face showed me I’d failed.
     
    She stroked harder with her legs, passing me on the straightaway and then attacking the lead of the other girls.  Breathing was difficult in the frigid air, but I kept pushing myself, wanting to catch my roommate. The trail led around more trees and to another incline. At last, I caught her on the hill.
     
    “I thought you wanted to be alone,” Marie-Rose said, as we huffed our way upward.
     
    “I was just following your instructions. You told me—”
     
    “I don’t want you to get in trouble! Can’t you see that I’m worried about you?” She dug harder, passing me on the hill for the moment.
     
    “Haven’t you heard? Trouble is my middle name.” I smiled grimly.
     
    We’d caught up to the other girls now, and Marie-Rose threaded herself through the pack like a pro. Our breath poured out in white clouds as we coasted down the slope toward another flat section.
     
    “You don’t have to worry about me, okay?” I told her.
     
    She grunted. “How can I not when every risk you take affects me?”
     
    I didn’t see how that was true, and it kind of pissed me off that all Marie-Rose seemed to care about was that I might get her into trouble. I’d been right not to trust her with everything going on with Austin. She’s probably keel over if she knew I’d seen him.
     
    “Your recklessness is very selfish, you know,” she continued.
     
    My mouth dropped open. Recklessness? She had no idea how hard I’d worked to keep myself in check at stupid Steinfelder thus far. Blood rushed to my cheeks, but rather than saying what I really wanted to, I lowered my chin and skied harder.
     
    Within a few minutes, I’d left Marie-Rose far behind. Fueled by my anger, I pumped my arms and nudged my tired legs onward. I wanted space and distance and quiet. The snow started to fall gently down all around me, slowing the trail, but I kept skiing, gazing up at the big white sky and marveling at the beautiful evergreen trees lining the path. I couldn’t hear anyone else anymore—no chatter from the girls, nor the sound of their skis on the snow. I could only hear the forest.
     
    But then I saw a flash of something moving in the trees. Something all white that blended in with the snow. Drawn to investigate, I stopped and snapped off my skis. Without even thinking, I was suddenly following the creature through the spruce trees.
     
    I thundered down a barely noticeable trail, wanting—no, needing—to get to this thing. Thoughts of Steinfelder gone from my mind, I barely felt my ski boots and heavy clothes as I tore after my target. My breath came in jagged gulps as I dodged the trees and ducked around bushes in my path. The movement of the thing was erratic, terrified, and that only made me want to catch up to it more.
     
    My body was on autopilot, but all my senses were engaged. I paused to sniff air, trying to catch its scent. And the thing raced ahead, a flash of white against the white, white snow and