Free Snow Ride by Bonnie Bryant Page B

and looked down.
    “That’s where we came from?” she asked, pointing to what seemed to be a very distant ski lodge at the bottom of the hill.
    “Yup,” Betsy said, looking amused. “And that’s where we’re going, as well.”
    “How?” Stevie asked, gazing at the narrow strips of wood that were to serve as her transportation.
    “Schusssss!”
Betsy declared. “Now, here’s how you put these things on.”
    While Stevie watched, in case she would ever live to do this again, Betsy slid the skis under her feet, lined them up with the oversized boots Stevie was already wearing, snapped a few things, and declared the job done.
    “They won’t come off?” Stevie asked.
    “Not unless you want them to, or if you need them to,” Betsy said. “See, they are designed to snap off if you start tugging on them at awkward angles. That’s a signal to the ski that you’re in trouble. If you’ve fallen and are tumbling, the last thing you want is to have skis attached to your boots, so they simply snap loose and you’re free.”
    “To fall?”
    “I wouldn’t put it that way,” Betsy said. “But I guess that’s what it amounts to. Now, are you ready? This
is
the beginner slope. It may be a little tricky for you, but I’m sure you can do it.”
    Stevie took a pole in each hand and tried to lift her foot.
    “Slide, don’t li—” Betsy began, but it was too late. The tip of Stevie’s ski had caught in a little clod of snow. As Stevie lost her balance, the other ski slid forward and she slid backward, onto her seat.
    “Congratulations,” Betsy said. “That’s your first fall. Now you’re a bona fide snow bunny.”
    She offered Stevie a hand and helped her back up. Before Stevie tried to move again, Betsy gave her a few pointers. She showed her how to walk, without lifting her toes.
    Stevie tried again. This time she stayed upright. The skis made little pathways for themselves in the spring snow. When Stevie stopped walking, she even found that the skis continued sliding.
    “I’m skiing!” Stevie declared. Betsy beamed because it was true.
    They spent most of the next half hour stepping and sliding around at the top of the hill. Then Betsy said it was time to try some downhill skiing.
    “Like the Olympians?” Stevie asked eagerly.
    “No, like a beginning skier,” Betsy replied sensibly. She then turned, as she had shown Stevie how to do it, and faced slightly downhill. “We’ll make a zigzag pattern,” she said. “That way you’re never completely going downhill except, of course, when we turn from a zig to a zag.”
    Stevie thought she had the idea. Betsy led the way; Stevie followed. It took a lot of concentration, but Stevie found she could actually control her direction and her speed, just a little bit. Of course, there was the time she lost control and whizzed past Betsy, straight into another beginner. The two of them fell down together andlaughed together. Then they tried to help one another up. It took Betsy’s help to succeed.
    Soon Stevie realized that falling down wasn’t so bad. It usually meant sitting down more than anything else, and it also usually meant falling on the soft snow—except when Stevie toppled onto another skier, or one toppled onto her.
    “Hey, I’m really getting the hang of this,” she said, having worked her way back to a standing position all by herself. “I think that was my seventeenth fall. Does that mean I’m still just a snow bunny, or have I become something bigger, like maybe a snow elephant?”
    Betsy didn’t have time to answer the question before Stevie fell again. This time she announced “Eighteen!” on her way down.
    As the afternoon wore on, Stevie fell less often and remained standing more often. She found that not only could she control the skis and her direction and her speed some of the time, she could even do it most of the time.
    It took them more than an hour to get to the bottom of the hill the first time. The second time it was a