Downhill From Here (#1)

13. Who is She?

Nathan's POV

November 3rd

Competition Day

11:27 am

I readjusted the beanie on my head and tapped on the screen of my iPad. It gave me all of the specs of Bowie Parker down to every last detail. Her height, weight, weakness, endurance level, how much energy she exerted each time she took off, etc.

All of this information was crucial. And I could tell Bowie what she needed to focus on. I could tell her that she needed to stop favoring her left knee. I could tell her that where she looks is so important because it controls the movement of her board.

But none of that shit seemed to matter.

Because she was currently staring at nothing and trying to disappear through her mind.

I knew this because Lilo used to do it. Her therapist had mentioned it was common in kids with trauma. She'd get quiet and stare, dissociating. It used to scare the shit out of me.

The sounds of the shutter of a camera faded into the background. There were so many people talking and extra noise that it was even hard for me to focus.

She had one run left in the competition and she was currently sitting in 7th place. I could see the despair in her eyes. I wish I could take Stevie's advice about positive reinforcement and snap her out of her funk but that wasn't me.

I could wake her up with kind words and pat her on the shoulder and say "you got this."

But I wasn't going to...because that wasn't me.

But I knew what I needed to do. I'd have to do what she'd done for me.

***************************************

Bowie's POV

2 hours earlier

I was seriously considering quitting.

Remember how I was freaking out about everyone finding out? Nathan said to just ignore everyone. Everything would be fine.

Well, Nathan was wrong. Nothing was fine.

"Breathe," Stevie said softly, placing both of her hands on my arms. She was kneading my muscles, trying to release the tension in my neck. Dressed in a black puffer coat and oversize black cargo pants, Stevie was squatting in front of me.

I was shaking in my boots, literally.

My practice runs with Bill this morning had gone fine. I'd eaten a full breakfast and didn't even want to throw up, at least not until now.

The local competition today was Men's and Women's Halfpipe. Later in the afternoon would be slopestyle. And women went first.

It would be broadcasted on local news networks and Black Mountain Resort was hosting it. So many people who were either staying here on vacation or lived here had shown up surrounding the bottom of the halfpipe. The judges were placed in the front, able to see everything with a clear view. And the same two hosts I'd been watching on tv for years, Sam and Dave were speaking into cameras, giving a second-by-second play for each rider's run.

It was exactly how I'd imagined it would be.

There were 16 of us and the top 6 would qualify for the next competition in a couple of weeks. All of this was supposed to be fun. Well, fun my ass.

The moment I walked into the rider's tent I should've known something was wrong. So many eyes were on me. And Nathan wasn't even with me.

He was too busy talking to news reporters. The guy had gone into hiding for so long and all of the news anchors were practically screaming, He has risen!