Grounded for life. Pax’s words echoed in my head. I could practically hear the snap of my board over my mom’s knee. I wouldn’t be able to talk myself out of this. I had my helmet in my hand. I thought frantically, trying to come up with any excuse that made sense. Who takes their helmet to the grocery store? Oh yeah, I know. Me. You never know when you might slip in the parking lot—got to protect the noggin.
“We’re out of milk.” Dad held up an empty plastic jug. “And cereal,” he added, holding up an empty green box.
Maybe he hasn’t noticed the helmet and snowboarding gear, I thought hopefully.
“Good going,” I said to Pax, trying to act normal.
“What? I was hungry.” Pax shrugged.
“Jessa.” Dad’s stern voice silenced us. Only the hum of the heater filled the air. By the crease of Dad’s brow and the tight line of his lips, maybe grounded for life wouldn’t be so awful. “I’m disappointed,” he finally said. So much for not noticing.
“I’m sorry.” An apology wasn’t enough, but what else could I say?
Dad dropped his arms and the stern look on his face faded. “It’s not like you to go behind my back, but it’s more concerning that you’d put yourself in danger.” His voice trailed off. He walked toward me, the hint of a limp visible. Back when the accident happened, I wasn’t old enough to know what my parents went through, but I’d seen some of the recovery photos. “I expected more. I appreciate and admire your drive, it reminds me of me. Maybe it reminds me of me too much. You have my risky tendencies for putting the sport before your safety.”
“Dad, I—”
He waved off my attempt at an explanation. “This is part of being a professional: knowing when to take risks, whether it’s practice or competition, and knowing that your family comes first. That means staying safe. Your mother thought she’d lost me on that superpipe. I don’t want to see her go through that again. Or worse.”
“I wouldn’t want all of you to go through that either. Dad, I . . .” I swallowed hard. How can I make him see?
“I understand you’re trying to protect me. I’m grateful, for everything—teaching me to ride, showing me the ins and outs of the sport—it’s just . . .” I took a deep breath. “I’m not you, Dad. I’m me. Jessamine,” I whispered.
Dad blinked. I couldn’t determine if I’d shocked him or gotten through to him. “Jessa, I see how important this sport is to you. Nothing stops a Castillo. It makes me think about how my own father would react if I’d tried to pull the same stunt you just did.”
“Yeah?” I think he gets it.
Dad nodded. “I’d be off to my room with my head down and my tail tucked between my legs.”
The energy drained from my body—he didn’t get it. Here came the punishment. Goodbye snowboarding career.
“But I’m not him. And you’re right, you’re not me. So I’m allowing you to go this morning.”
Did I hear him correctly? My dedication trumps my irresponsibility?
Pax gaped next to me.
Dad’s face grew stern again. “I have two conditions.” Of course he did. I released a slow breath. “There’s been a shift in weather and it looks like the storm will hit later. I’m allowing you one run, and only one. My first condition is if you ever do this again when I’ve told you no you will not participate in the next competition. I don’t care if it’s the freaking X Games.”
I nodded.
“You’re also grounded starting after next week’s competition. No going out, no skate park, and I’m confiscating your new board right after you compete.”
“What?”
Dad raised an eyebrow, and I snapped my mouth shut.
“And my second condition—”
“But you already gave me two,” I protested.
“I can make it three.”
I pouted and crossed my arms in front of my chest. I had to stop myself from pointing out that his first condition had two parts. Next to me, Pax suppressed a smile. He had to be enjoying this—I was never in trouble.
“And you have to take Pax with you.”
“What?” This time it was Pax’s turn to complain. “I didn’t do anything except finish off the milk.”
“I can’t take Pax with me,” I said. “He’ll slow me down.”
“Gee, thanks,” Pax said.
“I need to make sure you’re safe up there. It’ll keep you in line. Besides, if I don’t get him out of here, he’ll eat what’s left of the food in the house.”
“You know I’m standing right here,” Pax said.
“Yep,” Dad said turning to my brother. “And make sure you pick up a gallon of milk on the way home.”