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she says, laughing.
    I can hear my blood pulsing in my ears as I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to think — can I do it? Can I learn to ski and snowboard in four days? No, she can ’ t mean this Saturday; can she? “You mean this Saturday?”
    â€œYes, this Saturday!” she answers, her face absolutely radiant.
    My mind is racing. What am I going to do? I can ’ t learn to ski by Saturday. That ’ s just crazy! It can ’ t be done. “No!” I hear myself yelp. I really, seriously think I’m going to be sick.
    â€œNo?” she says pulling her head back like I’ve said the craziest thing she’s ever heard. “I’m sorry …” she adds, tapping her finger to her lips, “but ‘no’ is not an acceptable answer. We’re going this Saturday, end of story.”
    Hold it! Did she just say, “end of story”? Don ’ t I have any say in the matter? Doesn ’ t my opinion count? What if I ’ m busy? What if I have plans? I have a life you know!
    â€œAnd don’t say you’re busy,” Gabby blurts out, “because you already told me you’re not.”
    â€œNo I didn’t.”
    â€œYes you did.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œYesterday, remember? I asked you what you were doing this weekend and you said, ‘Nothing. I have no life.’”
    I bite my lip. “Oh yeah.”
    â€œAnd this is way more fun than nothing, right?”
    Yeah, potentially killing myself sounds way more fun for sure!
    â€œSooooo,” she continues, her face breaking into a huge grin, “where are your skis?” She’s so excited, her eyes are dancing in their sockets.
    Great! She wants to see my skis … my skis! I DON’T HAVE ANY SKIS!
    â€œMy skis?” I say, gnawing at the one fingernail that I have left.
    â€œYes, your skis. I want to see them!”
    â€œWhy do you need to see them?” I ask as calmly as I can manage, which I’m pretty sure isn’t calm at all, because my voice has gone all high-pitched and weird.
    â€œWhy wouldn’t I want to see them?” Gabby looks confused. “Are you okay? You sound weird.”
    â€œI do?” I say with a nervous chuckle.
    Gabby throws her arms up and laughs. “Yes, now will you please show me your stuff?”
    â€œBut why … why do you need to see it?” I squeak. Why won ’ t she just leave me alone! Make it stop!
    â€œBecause you are an amazing skier and you’re from Vermont, Hannah. Vermont ! Filled with ski villages and ski chalets and ski shops and ski …” — (Why does she keep saying ski ?!) — “everything. I mean you must have tons of stuff that we can’t even get here, like super-cool , professional stuff, like stuff they use …” she gasps “…. in the Olympics ! Oh, Hannah!” Gabby throws her hand to her chest. “Do you think —” she takes in a deep breath, “— you’ll ever try out for the Olympic team?” Her eyes are wild with excitement. “I mean you’re probably that good, right? Right!”

    â€œ Um … well… I don’t …” I sputter trying to come up with something, ANYTHING , that won’t tip Gabby off to the fact that I am a total fraud … a fake! HOW AM I GOING TO GET OUT OF THIS? I don’t ski! I have no gear!
    â€œSo?” Gabby grabs my hands. “Are you that good?”
    â€œ Um … well … jeez. I don’t think so.” This conversation is a total nightmare!
    Gabby’s lips form a confident smile. “ You can ’t pull one over on me, Hannah Smart! You’re just being modest.”
    â€œ No … no, I’m not,” I say, feeling my breath getting short.
    â€œUh huh.” Gabby winks. “Now where’s your gear? I totally need see it!”
    â€œNo, you don’t.”
    â€œHannah, you’re acting weird. I