Little Bird

                "You're taking her," my mother declares.

                "C'mon, this is for a sponsorship deal. She'll be in the way." Cade lounges back in his chair at the dinner table, relaxed in his certainty that there's no way he'll have to take me along to the Dash Energy Winter Games—familiar only to the portion of the American population with more sets of skis than people in the house.  

                "Oh," my mom says, her voice high and innocent. "And Becca won't be in the way?"

                Cade juts his jaw out. "Becca keeps me on track."

                "For what? Teen pregnancy?" I scoff. "It's not like you even ski hard runs with her, she can't do anything tougher than a blue diamond," I point out. "She's more worried about her hair than her turns."

                "Shut up, Lia," Cade says. He throws a placemat at me, which I duck, sticking my tongue out at him.

                "You're not helping, Lia," my mother says. "Cade, your sister needs highway hours for her learner's permit, and there are safe stretches between here and Bend that she can practice on in the truck. Besides, it'll be good for her to see what the games are like."

                "C'mon, Mom. I don't want to spend 10 hours in the truck with her. She's fifteen. She's got the brain of a seamonkey."

                I throw his placemat back at him.

                "At least I have some kind of brain; Becca bleached hers until it poured out of her ears."

                Cade launches away from the dinner table, but I've already pushed off the kitchen counter, dashing through the living room and bolting up the stairs ahead of him.

                "You're taking her," my mom shouts from the kitchen. I slam my bedroom door shut and cut off anything else she says, then lock it for good measure.

                I hear Cade's footsteps, and he stops outside the door.

                "I may have to take you with me, Lia, but no one said you have to have fun. 

               "Is that what you say to Becca when you pick her up for a date?" I sing-song.

                He just slaps the door, and I hear his heavy footsteps receding down the hall.

                "Cade?" I call out. Nothing. He's probably already on the phone with Becca, sulking. Explaining that I'll be ruining their plans.

                His side of the coin is misfortune. My side is pure opportunity.

                Once we're in Bend, all of Mt. Bachelor will be fair game. Cade and Becca can do whatever they want, and I'll spend all day, every day, far away from them and up on the mountain, surrounded by pure, endless powder.

**           **           **

               

                The road up to Mt. Bachelor is winding, and icy, and our chances of dying on it are exceptional, since Cade and Becca decided they were too tired this morning to drive, and that I could use the learning experience. They were wrong.

                I jerk the steering wheel, concluding it was a terrible plan. My hands keep a tight grip on the wheel, and about every other mile I exhale a sigh of relief that I haven't lost traction on the icy road again.