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fur-trimmed Bogner ski suits and fur après-ski boots for the Madison Avenue set, and had a sort of phony Tyrolean Woods feel to it, with wood-paneled walls and thick, forest green wall-to-wall carpeting, but it was still the best ski shop in New York.
    Nate went right to the back of the store where the skis and snowboards were sold. He shoved his hands in his khaki pants pockets, contemplating the boards stacked against the wall. Instantly, his eyes settled on a dark red Burton board with a picture of a green pot leaf on it. The word normal was stenciled on one end of the board, and the word goofy was stenciled on the other. He reached up and ran his thumb along the edge of the board.
    “That one's killer if you're into bumps,” a girl's smoky voice drifted over to him.
    Nate turned to find a small girl with short blond hair and a pug nose watching him. She was wearing an olive green Roxy hoodie and light gray Roxy board pants. Her brown eyes hung low in their sockets, puppy-dog-like. Or maybe she was stoned.
    “Do you work here?” he asked.
    The girl smiled. Her teeth were very small and close together. “Sometimes. When I'm on break. I go to Holden, up in New Hampshire? I'm captain of the girls' snowboard team.” She kept on smiling a little too long, and Nate decided she was definitely high.
    “Can I help you with something?” she offered.
    Nate tapped his fingers against the red board. “I think I'm gonna take this one. Plus I need boots and bindings.”
    The girl kept smiling as she hunted around in a stack of boxes for a pair of Raichle boots in his size and the best K2 bindings on the market. “I just demoed this combo at Stowe last weekend.” She knelt at Nate's feet to help him on with the boots. “It totally rocked.”
    Nate stood up and stared down the front of her hoodie, which was unzipped to just above her cleavage. She wasn't wearing a bra, just above her cleavage. She wasn't wearing a bra, just a white tank top, and he could see everything.
    She smiled up at him, holding his booted foot in her hands. “How does that feel?”
    He considered reaching for her hand and leading her into a dressing room. He could even imagine how her mouth would have the smoky, grassy taste that he liked, the after-you-smoke-fine-herb taste. It was odd, but ever since he'd quit smoking pot, he was basically horny all the time. And having a girlfriend in rehab who was only allowed supervised visits from outsiders didn't help much.
    Georgie, Georgie, Georgie. He couldn't wait for Sun Valley. They'd ski all day and fool around all night. What could be better? “Can I get these mounted now?” he asked, in a hurry all of a sudden.
    The girl gathered up the bindings and retrieved the correct-size board from the stack. “I'll mount 'em for you.”
    Sure she will.
    “Be right back.”
    While he waited, Nate wandered over to a pile of ski hats and began to try them on. He picked out a fuzzy heathered green one with earflaps and a long tassel on top—very granola-meets-Ralph Lauren—and put it on.
    “No way,” he muttered as he examined himself in the mirror. Usually he didn't think too much about what he looked like or what he wore—he didn't have to—but he wanted to look cool for Georgie. He put the green hat back on the stack and tried on a black fleece baseball-type hat with earflaps you could flip up, kind of like a modern version of the Elmer Fudd hunting cap.
    “That hat is awesome on you,” the salesgirl told him, coming back with his board. She leaned the board against a clothes rack and walked over to Nate, gently turning down the earflaps over his perfect ears. “You know you love it,” she added hoarsely.
    Sure enough, her breath smelled just the way he'd imagined it would. Nate licked his lips. “What's your name?”
    “Maggie.”
    Nate nodded slowly. The hat felt good on his head. He could reach for Maggie right now and unzip her top. Ask her if she wanted to share a joint. He could, he could. But