“I’m sorry you missed your race,” Penny said, her voice cracking. Noodles, who’d come with her from her house, pawed concernedly at her. “And you never even got to meet your nieces.”

My eyes filled with tears, but I tried to be strong for my big sister, grasping her hand. “I don’t want to be anywhere but here right now. I’m glad I came. There will be other races, it doesn’t matter.”

I had no idea what to say to Penny; the horror of what she’d been through was too immense. There was nothing to do but be there, and I was glad I was. Terrible as the circumstances were, I hadn’t felt so close to my sister in years. Back here with her, lying in the trundle bed that I’d spent so many childhood nights in, I remembered that though skiing often felt like the only thing that mattered, it wasn’t. True, the other things that mattered to me could be counted on one hand—my folks, Penny, Luke, and Blair—but they mattered more than anything, and maybe I needed to be reminded. I’d always been allowed to be self-centered because it was what I needed to make myself a champion, but this would not always be true. And I owed so much to my family, Penny too. I felt a rightness being there with her that night. Strange as it seems, I treasure this memory even now. It was a sad moment, but everything seemed so clear. Right and wrong still meant something.

I called Luke and Blair at the hotel the next day, hoping to catch them between training runs. I’d sent them both an e-mail update already with the worst of it, but I was longing to hear their voices.

Blair picked up.

“Bomber, I’m so sorry. We’ve been thinking about you nonstop.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I’m glad I’m here. Kjersti won the downhill, I see.”

“She skied well,” Blair said, “but you would have been better.”

“I would have skied like shit, I would have been so distracted. Probably better this way. And congrats on rocking the giant slalom, B.”

We all knew that going out on the course if your head wasn’t in it could lead to a catastrophic crash. Even on the best day, a tiny bobble could lead to disaster; we were always on the knife’s edge.

“It’s never the same without you here,” Blair said. “But you did the right thing and I’m proud of you. You’re a good sister.”

I heard Luke in the background.

“Luke wants to talk to you. Take care, okay? Lots of love to the fam.”

“Yeah.”

“Babe!” Luke’s exuberant voice broke through the fuzzy connection. “Did you see?”