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"How's that lil' guy?" said Stephanie, the girl helping me try on rental boots. She was nice but I didn't like that she called me 'lil' guy'. In fact, I hated it. There wasn't much I could do, so I squished my wet feet around inside the ski boots. They felt like ski boots, and the worst part was they were cold and my socks weren't even dry to begin with.

"They're fine." I said, not wanting to be a 'lil guy' any more.

"Got room to wiggle your toes?" My dad leaned. 

It was always about the toes. The thing about ski boots is there's no way to squeeze the toe, and for parents this always seemed to be the most important part. They always wanted to make sure you had that extra 2-inches for you toes(to allow for growth). There was none of that with ski boots. I had enough room that I could wiggle my toes, but they hurt. Not from being too tight, but from being cold.

"I think so." I said.

"You sure?" Asked Stephanie. 

"Yeah." I said.

"We're ready to go," my dad said to me, and then to Stephanie, "can we keep his shoes here for the day?"

"Actually," she pointed at an older man sitting behind a desk, "Jimmy will be handling your bill. He can set you up with a day-locker."

"Great, thank you." My dad said.

"Want me to walk you over?" Stephanie asked.

"That's fine, he see's us." My dad raised his hand and nodded at Jimmy, "Thats fine, he sees us, thanks again. Nick, you can go play in the snow if you want to, I'll be right out."

"That's ok, I want to look around in here?" 

"Sure." he said, 

My dad went and sat down with Jimmy. Stephanie went to help another customer. I checked out the new goggles hanging on the wall. They looked much flashier than my old orange ones. Some of them reminded me of the goggles the skiers wore in the Warren Miller my dad took me to the year before. 

I didn't tell my dad that my feet were wet because I didn't want him to be disappointed. I was trying my best to be responsible. This was my chance to show him I could take care of myself and I had wrecked it. I wanted to do more adult things, not just kid things, and if he knew my socks were wet he might not have let me go skiing. 

Sitting in the rental shop, waiting to go out in the wind, and the cold, I didn't feel responsible. I felt nervous. Now that it was about to happen, the thought of skiing wasn't exciting like it had been before, it frightened me. 

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