Devan

She stiffens beside me. Something's wrong. She won't even look at me now.

What? What did I say?

I replay the conversation. Tape burn. That's it! Of course! How could I have been so stupid? Only someone who'd been there that morning would know about the tape. As far as Katie is concerned that's her, Egghead, and whoever did it.

She thinks I did it. The tape, the ant farm, all of it. Great, just great. I shiver in the blowing snow. I'll be lucky if she ever speaks to me again.

The chair finally reaches the top of the hill. Neither of us says anything.

Some guy in a goofy red hat with a wicked huge pom-pom is blocking the ramp. One ski is on his shoulder and he's bending over to pick up his pole. The lift operator is going mental, shouting at the guy to get out of the way as the people on the chair in front of us hit the ramp.

"What?" The guy turns, swinging the ski on his shoulder around. It whacks one of the skiers in the back. He reaches out to help her and clotheslines the other one with his pole. Total Three Stooges. Now three bodies block the ramp.

The man working the lift runs back to his hut and slams the brake. I hear him shouting, in French, I think. Only he's conjugating some verbs Madame Latour hadn't taught us. He grabs the guy in the red hat by the jacket, drags him off the ramp, and dumps him in the snow bank. The other two take off down the hill.

Katie and I ski down the ramp and pass the guy. His skis are pointing in opposite directions, but they are on at least. He's bent over, snapping up a boot. Red threads are falling out of his pom-pom.

He barely made it down the ramp. How the hell will he survive the actual hill?

I'm surprised someone that inexperienced would be dumb enough to ski without taking lessons first. He sits up.

It's Egghead.

Somehow, I'm not surprised at all.