And so it goes. Being with Esau is ridiculously fun. Wanting to be with Esau just makes me feel ridiculous.
The next week, Esau flips the script on his coach—he skips school and I’m back on the slopes. This time we go all the way to Vail; they’ve been getting better snow, and the extra fifty miles cuts down on the number of day-trippers from Denver.
I’ve never snowboarded before, but Esau laughs at the notion of me on skis as if I’d suggested riding down the mountain on an old-timey bicycle in a tweed jacket.
“I’ve never snowboarded before.”
“So we won’t register you for the X Games. I can teach you. You’ll get the hang of it in two seconds.”
I resist, but we’re here, and it does kinda look like fun.
“Look,” he says, dropping the tailgate on his station wagon, “I brought you a board.
