RIDING AWAY

CHAPTER 20 - Back on the slopes...

Shawn, Justine and Riley had been ecstatic when I called them to let them know we were on our way to Snow-Dom, a small, family-oriented resort three hours away.

Riley had finished first at both the Boarder-cross and the Half-pipe and would head to the World Championship in Austria in February. It would last three weeks and he wanted me to come along.

"I'd have expected you to come even if you hadn't been on your way back to Snow-Dom..." He'd said in his usual it's-not-that-big-of-a-deal' tone, when it was in fact, huge.

Ever since the New Year's Eve party, he'd spent most of his time with Sally and I'd been worried that was how it would always be from now.

I was really happy they were getting on so well but I had to admit it had been difficult to get used to the idea that Riley no longer slept on the other side of the front hall.

I hoped Mr. Harris, our Principal, would let me go.

"I can't believe I'm letting you invite me to a snowboarding weekend..." Lincoln's deep voice brought me back to the present.

"What's the point of being loaded if I can't share with my friends?" I interjected.

"Is that how you see me? A friend?" He asked, his voice, thick with emotion.

"Well, since I met you, you've come to surf with me every day to make sure nothing happened to me..." I argued. "We've shared food, drinks, you have showers at mine... What else should I call you?"

"I guess..." He muttered. "Thanks."

I wasn't sure what he was thanking me for so I didn't say anything.

"Are you really that rich?" He asked a minute later.

I hated talking about money.

"Well my Dad's been transferring two thousand bucks on my account every month since I was ten." I told him with my nose scrunched up. "I generally spend less than a thousand even now that I have to pay for my food... So, yeah, I guess that makes me rich... Kind of..."

"Are you telling me your Dad gives you too much money?" He exclaimed, looking baffled.

"Well, don't you think giving two thousand dollars pocket money to a ten-year-old is ridiculous?!" I interjected.

"To middle-class boy me, maybe..." He answered. "But most, let's say richer girls I've met were blowing every last cent they got and spent their time begging their parents for more..."

"When I was younger, I kept telling my Dad how I wished he was a carpenter or a plumber instead of an A-list actor..." I admitted. "I even offered him some of my pocket money for more time in his arms..." I murmured and had to close my eyes to blink away the tears that had sprung at the memory. "Rich kids issues, hey?!" I joked.

"Don't, Blake." His stern tone startled me. "I haven't had the most stellar parents, but yours are on a whole other level altogether..."

I turned my head and pretended to look through the window so he wouldn't see my tears.

He groaned and put his hand on my thigh in a comforting gesture.

I had to get a grip.

"Sorry..." I mumbled. "I seem to be crying all the freaking time at the minute..."

"And she apologizes now..." He sounded dumbfounded. "Blake, do you realize how tough you are?"

I sniffled. "I feel anything but tough, right now..." Broken, sad, frustrated, angry, you named it, I felt it but tough or any synonymous adjectives weren't part of it.