On a Slippery Slope (4 page)

“I ski and A.J. snowboards,” Gabby continues.

“Okay, now that we have all this settled, can we get back to the meeting?” A.J. says, his annoying brown eyes sparkling as he looks back over at me. “Hannah, can you take minutes?”

“Minutes?” I whisper to Gabby, confused.

“Notes of what's being said at the meeting.”

“Ahh …
sure, no problem.
”

Chloe whispers something into Ivy's ear and they both look over at me and giggle. Then, Ivy makes an
X
with her fingers, and hisses. She actually looks super dumb, but I'm sure
she
thinks she's being all scary and intimidating. I wonder what they did for fun before I got here?

“Pssst … Hannah,” Gabby says, nudging me, “can you teach me how to snowboard?”

“What?” I ask, curious to know how she expects me to listen to her, and, at the same time, write down everything A.J. is saying so I can add it to the minutes.

“Can you teach me how to snowboard? A.J. has an old board, but he's too busy with his training to help me.”

“What?” I say again, scribbling down the words
March
and
sunshine
.

Taking minutes is hard, especially when you have a girl whispering in your ear, like, every five seconds.

“Fine … sure,” I finally answer stupidly, not knowing what I am agreeing to.

“So, everyone is agreed then; our ski trip is set for March fifteenth,” A.J. announces.

“Ski trip?” I whisper to Gabby.

“Weren't you listening?” She shakes her head. “Every year we all go away on a school ski trip!”

“For how long?” I ask.

“A week, Hannah! You really need to listen better,” Gabby scolds.

“For a week!” I exclaim.

“Hannah, did you get that?” A.J. hollers.

“
Um
…”

“March fifteenth,” Gabby murmurs between her teeth.

“Totally got that, yeah … March fifteenth.” I smile and nod.

“Until when?”

“
Um
…” I quickly do the math:
a week is seven days, so if we're leaving on the fifteenth …
fifteen plus seven is
twenty-two
. “Until the
twenty-second
,” I say smugly.

He narrows his eyes. “And where are we going?”

“On a ski trip,” I answer.

“Duh.” Chloe looks at A.J. and rolls her eyes.

“Yes, I know, but what resort?”

“
Um
…” I squish up my nose.

“Mount Sunshine!” Gabby whispers through her curved hand.

“Mount Sunshine.” I smile, scribbling the word
mount
in front of
sunshine
on my paper.

“Hmm … have you done this before?” He smiles. His dimples are so big that I think you could eat cereal out of them. “Who would like to nominate Hannah as our official
minutes-taker
for all future meetings?”

Gabby whips her hand into the air. “Oh, me! I would!”

“All in favour,” A.J. yells.

“Aye,” everybody answers with about as much enthusiasm as you would expect after the whole
Maple Ridgers
comment.

“Yeah!” Gabby squeals. “Now you're on the committee!”

“Okay, so unless there's anything else …” A.J. says, scanning the room, “our meeting is adjourned. Thanks, everyone!”

“Omigosh, Hannah, I'm so excited that you're part of our group,” says Gabby.

“So, what does the committee do?” I ask.

“Lots,” A.J. says, suddenly appearing at my side.

As long as I don't look at him, I won't get that weird feeling.
Just don'
t look at him. Just don
'
t look.

“Like plan for our big ski trip!” A.J. elbows me playfully in the ribs, which is even worse than if I'd looked at him. This stupid feeling I get whenever he's around has got to go! It's annoying and just …
really annoying!

“Hannah, you must be excited to show off your
mad
skills!
” A.J. says grinning.

And just like that … poof! My tingling is gone. I have no mad skills. I can't ski, I can't snowboard, and I'm afraid of heights. How am I going to get myself out of this one?

After-School Blast

W
onderful
! It's the end of the day, my bus is here, and I can't get to my locker to get my stuff because the Queens of Mean and their gang of
doughnut-chucking
goons have surrounded the door. I hear the crackle of plastic and look up to see the Leader of the Goons, I think they call him Tiny (funny, cause he's huge) passing out the rest of his donuts, a.k.a. sugary cake Frisbees. I know what I'm in for. Grrr …

In no hurry to get onto a bus filled with
donut-wielding
-thugs, I decide to add a couple of sentences to a writing assignment we started today:
Is It Ever Okay to Lie?
Funny subject considering my day, don't you think?

“Hannah, it's time to get going,” Ms. Winters says, pointing to the clock.

“Yup.” I gulp, knowing what's waiting for me outside.

“I was the new girl in junior high once. It will get better; I promise.” She winks.

The bus is pulling away when I get outside. Turns out, ours is the first one to leave, and if you're not there within, like, minutes of the bell, then too bad so sad — you'll either have to call your parents or walk. I pick option one and call dad from the office phone.

“Hey, Dad, I missed the bus. Can I get a ride with you?”

“Hannah, it's only 3:00. I'm not even close to finishing work. I won't be done until 6:00. Can't you get your mom to come and get you?”

“Mom's at the nursing home today.”

“Oh yeah, right. She started that today,” Dad says. “Well, come by here, then. The station is just down the street from your school. You can watch your old man in action!”

Dad was right; the station is, like, two minutes away, which is cool because now I might actually get to spend some time with him. We might even get to do lunch, something that would have been impossible back in Vermont because all he had time for there was work, work, and more work! He says it's going to be different here, and that soon enough I'll be sick of looking at his face. I seriously doubt that.

The station is in a huge brick building on the corner. Right above the doors, there's a gigantic neon sign that says
CHANNEL NINE
. As soon as I walk in, I see a friendly looking lady with a cute, blond
pixie-cut
standing beside the reception desk. She's rifling through a stack of papers, apparently not able to find what she's looking for because suddenly she plunks the whole stack down on the desk and blurts out, “
I give up!
” She and the guy at reception start laughing.

“What's new?” he says with a snort. Then he points in the direction of a
not-very
-
nice-looking
lady who is heading in their direction. The laughter stops.

Cranky Lady asks
Pretty-Pixie
-Cut Lady something, which must be about the stack of papers because
Pretty-Pixie
-Cut Lady starts frantically searching through them again. Cranky Lady is pursing her lips and tapping her foot on the ground. She's one
scary-looking
lady. “This is happening far too often, Andy. You need to hire a production assistant. No more excuses!”

“I know,”
Pretty-Pixie
-Cut Lady, whose name must be Andy, says, shrugging.

“I mean, look at this place!” Cranky Lady barks. “It's a mess!” She scans the room in disgust. Suddenly, her eyes fall on me. She stares for a second and then whispers something into Andy's ear. Andy looks over at me, smiles, and puts her finger up to tell me she'll just be a second.

When Cranky Lady leaves, Andy falls back against the desk, letting out a deep breath of air that she must have been holding for a while. She scratches her head, messing up her pretty blond hair, and then turns and to walk away.
OMG
, she totally forgot about me.

“Andy, we need you!” I hear a voice calling from another room. Immediately she picks up the pace, walking toward the voice.

“Hello!” I call in her direction.

She keeps walking. She's almost at the door.

“Wait!” I yell. “I think you forgot about me.”

She hears me this time because suddenly she stops in her tracks and looks back with a warm smile. “Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie. I'll be right there.”

“Andy, where are you!” the voice calls again.

Ignoring the voice, she rushes in my direction. In her haste, she trips on a fold in the carpet, sending her stack of papers flying all over the room.

“Oh dear, it's been one of those days,” she says, pushing her glasses up on her nose. “Busy, busy, busy. There are never enough hours in the day to get things done, like ordering a new carpet for this lobby. Well, you must be Hannah; you look just like your dad.”

“
Um
… yeah,” I say, a little surprised. “No one has ever said that before.”

“Well, maybe it's your eyes or your smile,” she continues, “but somehow I could just tell. Anyway, it's great to meet you.” She looks up from the crumpled mess of papers that she's trying to gather up. “I'm Andy, the associate director.”

“Here, let me help,” I say, throwing down my knapsack.

“So, you're here to watch your dad do his thing, huh? Pretty exciting!”

“Actually, I missed my bus,” I admit.

“Have you ever been to a TV station before?” she asks as we walk toward the set.

“Never,” I say, looking around, trying to soak it all in — the bright lights, the cameras, the monitors, the TV screens; everything looks so lit up and shiny and … I can't believe my dad works here!

“Andy, we need you over here!” the voice yells out again.

“Oh, Hannah, my day never ends! Your dad should be out in a few minutes. You can watch him from here.” She points to a chair at the side of the room, just behind the cameras.

“Andy, we need you now!”

“Have fun, Hannah!” Andy calls, nearly dropping her papers again as she scurries toward the impatient voice.

Suddenly, Dad appears in front of me and just like that, he's doing the weather! “Hey there, Maple Ridge! I'm Marty Smart and do I have some weather for ya!”

Watching Dad is awesome. I don't know how he can make cold fronts and snow squalls sound so exciting! He doesn't even look a teensy bit scared! Seriously, he looks like he's having the time of his life! Dad was obviously made for this job.

“Well, Maple Ridge … the word of the day is
blast
, because that's what we're in for this weekend … a blizzardy blast of weather! I'll be tracking this storm all week long and as soon as I know more, you'll know more, and that's a Marty Smart promise! So, that's it for now, Maple Ridge. I'll be back at eleven with all the latest weather updates. This is Marty Smart saying thanks for making Channel Nine your
go-to
source for weather news. It's been a real … blast!”

The
ON AIR
sign goes off and instantly the room erupts with applause. They must be on a commercial break.

Grinning ear to ear, Dad gives me two thumbs up and then quickly disappears through a back door that takes him off the set.

During the break, I overhear the crew chatting:

“… this guy just might save the show.”

“… big boost to the ratings.”

“… corny tag line … ha, ha, ha … have I got some weather for ya!”

“… the old ladies are going to love him.”

It's six o'clock when Dad finally comes to get me. After he introduces me to everyone in the station, and I mean
everyone
, right down to the night janitor, it's time to leave for home. Finally! I've been starving for the past two hours!

I hope you're hungry,” he says pulling up to a Chinese takeout.

“Awesome, Dad! I've been dying for …”

“Hannah!” Dad cuts me off in
mid-sentence
. “I can't believe I forgot to ask you about your day! How was school? Did you make lots of friends?”

“Friends? Um … I …”

“Hold that thought!” Dad puts his finger up. “First I need to grab supper and then you can tell me every single detail about your day, okay?”

“Um, every detail?” Yeah … suddenly I'm not that hungry.