Free Slippery Slopes by Emily Franklin

anything about it. Words are one thing, she thinks, but actions are another. Aren’t actions supposed to scream while words whisper?
    “You don’t have to explain,” James says. “I’m just saying, the reason I didn’t ask about your fall—the reason I wasn’t … that I didn’t …”
    Melissa jumps off the horse, wincing as she lands and the impact hurts her rib cage. With myriad reflections around her and tiny blue lights above her, Melissa takes an action that she hopes will scream as loudly as the truth. She wraps her arms around James’s waist, looks up at him, and then, standing on her very tiptoes, kisses him.
    Their lips meet in the slow motion way of films, with neither one pausing, just two mouths meeting for a small, gentle kiss. This is it — I’m finally going to know what it’s like to kiss him. To have his lips on mine. And he’ll know how I feel. …
    But before James actually kisses her, he pulls back. “No—wait. We can’t.”
    Melissa feels slapped. Foolish and rejected all at once. “Because of Charlie?” Melissa shakes her head. “You know, here I am thinking you can see past all the exterior stuff. Charlie’s perfect legs and her amazing body … but you’re just like everyone else, aren’t you?”
    James looks annoyed and dejected. “What? What does Charlie have to do with this?” He motions to her and to him. He waits for her to say something, but Melissa feels too embarrassed to say anything.
    Never should have done that. What made me think I’m cool enough, suave enough, to risk that kiss? It’s like the rope swing— I should stick to the paths I know and forget the rest. “You know what?” Melissa steps back. “Forget what I said. Never mind Charlie or falling on my ass or …” She pushes at the air as though she can move the comments away.
    James gives her a weird look. “You sure you’re okay?”
    She nods. I have to get us back on track. Like the beginning. If I can’t be with him, at least let me be friends with him. “Want to see the dinosaurs?”
    “I can only imagine.”
    Melissa tugs the sleeve of James’ coat and leads him to where small dinosaurs stand, mock-grazing. “Aren’t they bizarre?”
    “This one looks like he’s about to slalom,” James says, patting the side of a green raptor. “Except for the teeth.”
    Trying to belay the awkward air between them after the rejection, Melissa slings an arm around the neck of a brontosaurus and poses like she’s in a photo. “Isn’t this like a scene in a movie where we talk all night amidst all these strange and beautiful creatures?” She looks at James, thinking he qualifies as the latter. We’ll be friends. Friends would be good. We can hang out, I’ll watch him race, he can watch me fall on my butt …
    “It’s exactly what you’d see in a movie. We’d exchange life stories and talk about what we did when we were kids and what we hope for in the future.”
    Melissa leans her cheek on the brontosaurus. “Should we?”
    James smirks. “Maybe there’s a fake palm tree or a bat cave somewhere around here.” Across his face comes a look of true calm.
    He’s happy to be here with me, I think. Maybe friendship is the place to start — again. “We could look.”
    “Okay—first person to find the ideal place to sit and emote wins.”

9
    T HE ENTIRE RESORT OF Les Trois is abuzz. With holiday music still piped over loudspeakers and wreaths on every available door, the buildup to tomorrow’s Christmas celebration is bigger than the day itself.
    “Come on! I don’t want to be late.” Hurrying along the iced paths, Melissa makes sure to stick to the salted and sanded sections so she doesn’t trip.
    Dove checks her watch. “You have eight full minutes before the race starts. I doubt you’ll miss anything….” Ahead of them, masses of people line the mountain’s racecourse, with television crews, cameras, and reporters jammed in, all ruddy-cheeked and waiting for a winner. “Think