My dad must have believed I'd never get caught, otherwise he wouldn't have suggested I do it. The blind devotion I put in his paternal leadership meant I valued his judgment above all others.
This had the benefit of allowing me to let go of my worry. It gave me the freedom to focus on transforming into a ski racer. I bent down and pretended to adjust my boot buckles.
My dad whistled I looked up to see him coming out of the tree's, along the second ridge. I turned my skis and entered the empty closed off ski run. I looked over both shoulders, but nobody else was on the hill now. It was just me.
The memory of Joey starting, hard and fast, replayed in my memory when I got to the starting gate. The snow was packed harder, and was icier than I expected. I slid forward and looked over to see my dad with his hand on his wrist. The tips of my skis dangled off the edge into the air much higher than I expected.
"Ski club members only." A man shouted at me from above.
"Go for it Nick." My dad yell from the side of the hill.
"Exit the run now!" The same voice yelled.
"Ahhhhhhh!" I shouted at them both as I pushed through the starting gate, "Let's go skiing!"
YOU ARE READING
Frost - #JustWriteIt #Sports
Short StoryMy father stepped into my bedroom and my body was still asleep, but when he spoke my mind was awoken. "Nick," he said from above, "did you hear me?" Both my eyes were still closed, "Yes Father." I answered. "Come eat." his hand touched my shoulder...
