We laugh and it breaks the tension. The flirting stops and we talk snowboarding. Places we’ve ridden; good days and bad; Terje Håkonsen’s record 9.8-meter air at the Arctic Challenge. The sky changes from pink to purple to navy.

“How do you two know each other anyway?” I ask.

“We met at the Burton US Open a few years back,” Curtis says. “Rented a place together last season.”

“With his sister,” Brent adds.

He and Curtis share another look. What’s that about? But I don’t want to think of her right now. I’m just glad it’s these two I’m stuck with and not her.

There’s another announcement.

“Not long now,” Curtis tells us.

“Is your French fluent?” I say.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“And his German,” Brent says. “If I’d known I was going to be doing this, I would have tried harder at languages at school.”

“Same,” I say. “I did the season in Switzerland last year, in Laax, and I had, like, two German phrases.”

“What were they?” Curtis says.

I summon my best German accent. “Ich verstehe nicht.” I see Brent’s blank look. “‘I don’t understand.’”

“What was your other one?” Curtis says.

“Wo ist der Krankenhaus? ‘Where’s the hospital?’”

Curtis laughs. “Good choice. Actually it’s das Krankenhaus.”

I aim a punch at his ribs.

There’s an angry throbbing above the bubble, and light beams into the cabin.

“Here’s the helicopter,” Brent says.

A shadowy figure descends from a rope. We hang back as the man forces the door of our cabin open and steps inside. He says something in French.

“Who’s going first?” Curtis says.

I put up my hand. “Me!”

I always have this stupid need to prove myself. To show no fear. I blame it on my brother. Jake and his mates would do all this crazy stuff in the woods around where we grew up, and the only way they’d let me hang out with them was if I was the craziest of all. Go on, Milla. I dare you. I broke bones trying to keep up with them. Never passed up a dare—and still won’t. It’s a habit now. Daredevil Milla. People expect it.

The man harnesses me up. “Ees nothing to worry about, okay?”

“I’m not worried,” I say. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

He gives me a funny look, and Curtis and Brent laugh their heads off.

“Go, Milla,” Brent says as I begin my descent.