I watch Odette finish her run. A few rare women like her can override the fear, but as much as I try, I just can’t do it. I’m landing small McTwists now when the conditions are right—but the fear is ever present. Holding me back. It’s so frustrating.

The one consolation is Saskia can’t override it either. She’s McTwisting again—my attempts have pushed her into it—but I can tell she’s as scared of them as I am.

I cram a handful of nuts into my mouth. I’m training so hard that I struggle to replace the energy I use, so I’ve taken to eating nuts all day long, even as I go up the tow. Sleeping tablets are helping me settle at night, but then I need a Smash in the morning to wake me up.

Curtis is back at the top already. I watch nervously, suspecting he’s going to try another Haakon flip. I find it difficult enough to watch him as it is—Brent, too. Some of the positions they put themselves into. Upside down with their heads swinging perilously close to the ice; spins that seem like they won’t stop in time for them to land.

Brent falls a lot because he pushes the limit so damned hard. Curtis rarely falls but when he does he drags himself up, Terminator-like, and tries again until he nails it.

He plunges in now, spins sideways through the air, and goes down again.

Brent groans. “That would’ve hurt.”

Curtis lies there, a hand pressed to his shoulder.

“Should we check he’s okay?” I ask.

Brent bites into a muesli bar. “Just wait.”

Sure enough, Curtis struggles upright and sideslips down, testing if he can rotate his shoulder. Still nursing it, he heads to the tow.

“You watch,” Brent says. “He’ll try it again.”

“Should we stop him?” I say. “He’s going to break something.”

Brent laughs. “Bit of advice. When he falls, don’t go near him, don’t even look at him, or he’ll bite your head off.”

Just like my brother when he loses a rugby match.

Julien drops in. Back-to-back flips on his first two hits.

“I thought Dale was going to punch Julien earlier,” Brent tells me.

“Really?” I say. “Why?”

“He made some comment about Dale’s nose grabs. And his jacket. In the same sentence. Guy doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.”

My laughter dies as Curtis drops in again. I almost can’t bear to watch. He flips sideways above the ice, catches his edge on landing, and goes down with a crunch.

When it’s clear he’s not getting up, Brent and I hurry over. He’s clutching his shoulder, face twisted with pain.

Brent removes Curtis’s snowboard, hooks an arm around his waist, and hoists him upright. “Come on, bro. Let’s get you to the cable car.”