Free Death's Last Run by Robin Spano Page A

Whistler?” Martha stared hard, compelling Fraser’s eyes to meet hers.
    Fraser obliged, but with a sigh. “Yes, Daisy visited. But it was in November; not last week. They skied together.”
    â€œSacha snowboarded. She found skis too restrictive. Remember that trip we took to Sun Valley?” Martha felt weird, like she had a fever. Her limbs felt heavy and light all at once. Like the two balloons in the Pink Floyd song. She wanted to remember every detail from every day of Sacha’s life, because maybe then she could put it back together again.
    â€œYou need to get a grip.”
    Martha came back to reality with a thud. “Did Daisy say anything to Sacha about her lineage?”
    â€œShe says not.”
    â€œHm.” Martha would have to pay Daisy a visit. “Is she home this afternoon?”

THIRTEEN

    CLARE
    Clare tried for the twelfth time to get her snowboard to do what she wanted it to.
    Her instructor laughed. He was probably a nice guy when he wasn’t making fun of someone who couldn’t understand his terrible instructions.
    â€œForget it.” Clare bent over, released her bindings, and stepped off the board. “I can live in Whistler without knowing how to ride this thing.”
    The instructor shrugged. His name was something goofy, like Flippy or Flopper; Clare hadn’t bothered to remember it. “Shredding’s the crunchiest thing you’ll ever do. Total body awesomeness. Like sex on shrooms. You just have to wait for it to click.”
    â€œOh, is that all I have to do?” Clare narrowed her eyes through her balaclava. She wanted to rip the thing off — her head was too hot; she was sweating. But that would mean taking off her helmet and rearranging, and it was annoying enough just trying to learn how to snowboard. “Aren’t you supposed to be teaching me how ‘it clicks’? Or would it be easier if I just smoke a joint and try to get down the hill?”
    Flipper grinned, exposing straight, white teeth that looked strange against his dry, cracked skin. “That might help, actually. I learned when I was baked. Took me one lesson and I was down.”
    â€œAre you baked now? Because the instructions you’re giving me are completely unclear.” Shit. Clare sounded like a prudish bitch.
    â€œOne more try,” said Chipster. “You’re doing well, despite your defeatist attitude. Your aggression will actually work for you, if you let it.”
    Clare rolled her eyes. “Didn’t realize I’d signed up for Snowboarding Buddhism.” She strapped her boots back into her bindings and immediately crashed to the ground.
    â€œGet up,” said Flooper.
    Clare got up.
    â€œWeight on your heels.”
    â€œDuh. Or else I would have fallen again.” Clare began to slide slowly and horizontally, like Flapjack had been teaching her. She would fall again any second.
    â€œWeight on your toes. All at once.”
    Clare did what was completely counter-intuitive, and listened to Flopface. Instead of falling, though, she found that she had successfully turned and was now facing up the hill.
    â€œWeight on your heels.” The guy could at least congratulate her.
    Clare shifted her weight again and she was facing down the hill. Another successful turn.
    â€œGreat. Now keep doing that, but while you’re moving down the hill. Back and forth. Like this.” Flip took off. In a ridiculously fluid movement, he made about six turns and was a fair way down the hill. He shouted up to Clare, “Your turn!”
    Clare wanted to swear at him, but she reminded herself that she was Lucy — she was supposed to be making friends, not alienating them. So she did what he said. A lot less gracefully. And with three falls along the way.
    When she’d caught up with him, Chiphead grinned. “You’re a snowboarder, Lucy. You can work on your style, build up speed, tighten those angles. But