Underneath

one; ski to sea

From the west, came the breeze that traveled down Ian's spine, provoking the boy to shiver and pull his worn suede jacket tighter around his torso. It was a typical day for Bellingham, concerning the weather, but event wise, the city was buzzing with excitement. Unlike most of the citizens living in the largest city in Whatcom County, Ian Evans was sour about what the day's events held for him.

It was a monumental occasion because the first ever Ski to Sea event was being held that day in Bellingham. Seven years prior, in 1966, Fred Elsethagen wrote a letter to the president of the Bellingham Chamber of Commerce, proposing the idea of an event that traced back to races held in the area in 1911, 1912, and 1913. These races had since been cancelled after a runner fell into a crevasse. The city finally got around to planning the event, and it was to take place on that day in 1973. 

The race was originally to consist of nine events, as proposed in Fred Elsethagen's original letter, more of which would be added later, but in 1973, there were only three: downhill skiing, bicycling, and canoeing or kayaking the Nooksack River. 

Engraved on Ian's face was a permanent scowl as he walked over to the volunteer coordinator, Kelly, who was a fresh-faced twenty-something young woman with dark curls that fell past her shoulders. Ian's mother had not allowed him to sign up for the event because she thought that it would be too dangerous for a boy of sixteen. Ian, as an enthusiastic athlete, was enraged because the minimum sign-up age was fifteen. There would be people younger than him competing, and he was stuck volunteering.

"You're not wearing the Ski to Sea volunteer shirt," Kelly commented as Ian approached her.

He looked at her with disapproval. "It's too cold," He lied. It really wasn't that cold; he just thought that the shirts looked very stupid.

When he signed up to volunteer, he made sure that he would be helping set up for the end of the race, so he could at least see the outcome of the race. There were a lot more volunteers than he thought there would be, and many of them were useless. Some of them left to smoke behind trees every five minutes because smoking is apparently an activity that requires no distractions and lots of concentration. One guy had a bulky cast on his arm and couldn't help with anything. Ian chose to stick with the guy with the broken arm because the rest of them overlooked him. 

"Hey," Ian said casually as he stood next to broken-arm-guy.

"Hi," Broken-arm-guy replied.

"How's it going?" 

"Well, I don't know about you, but my arm is broken."

"Then why are you volunteering?"

"I'm not. Have you seen me work at all today?" Broken-arm-guy asked rhetorically. "My dad said that I need to volunteer more, then muttered something about soul-searching and crap under his breath."

Ian nodded knowingly. "Yeah, my mom basically said that I couldn't be in the race, and then made me volunteer instead."

"Oh," Broken-arm-guy said. They stood together and watched the other volunteers try to set up a tent unsuccessfully. 

"I'm Ian, by the way." He held his hand out for broken-arm-guy to shake.

The guy stared at him hand. "Cool," He said as he took a deep breath. "Did you not hear the part where I said my arm was broken?"

"But your other hand is fin--"

"Obviously. But do you really think I'm gonna risk breaking the other?"

"It's just a handshake, th--"

"Listen, I'm not interested in being your buddy, okay? I'd much rather be in the race, but I was forced into this becuase of my arm, so you can stand there and be quiet, or you can leave."

There was a long silence.

"I bet I could guess your name," Ian offered. "I'm really good at guessing names."

"Oh my god," Broken-arm-guy exclaimed. "Listen, you're like twelve years old, so go hang out with someone your own age."

"I bet it's Dennis," Ian said.

The older boy turned to him and grasped Ian's jacket firmly in the hand of his unbroken arm. "Who told you that?"

Ian struggled to pull himself out of broken-arm-guy's reach. "It's on your nametag!"

Dennis straightened himself up, and tried not to look like he had been made a fool out of by a kid who was "like twelve years old". 

"Whatever. Just shut up and don't draw attention to yourself. You don't want them to ask you for anything."

"Alright." Ian nodded obediently. 

After that first conversation, Dennis somehow knew that this Ian kid wasn't just going to go away.