Read Online Trying to Float by Nicolaia Rips - Free Book Online Page B

clear.
    Together, we moved toward the mountain, and as we climbed, the counselors gave us a history of the area. Trees and animals and birds were discussed. I felt connected to our group, marching in the same direction, toward the same adventure.
    After an hour or two of walking, we reached the point at which we could go no farther. The snow was too deep.
    The people I knew in New York were not exactly the snowshoeing sort and I was at a loss as to what to do. On top of this, I was clumsy.
    I drifted behind.
    When the distance between me and the group was so great that I could no longer see them, I became nervous. Before I could call out, I began to fall forward.
    My head screwed into the snow. The cold shocked me. After a minute or two, a horned animal, possibly a unicorn, galloped toward me. I was in a tapestry—ladies and knights floating in the distance as the beast made its way to my side.
    Suddenly I was being hoisted from the snow, the steamy breath of the unicorn warming my face. My eyes began to clear.
    It was Doris’s mom.
    Witnessing my fall, she had come snowshoeing down the hill. Not all that good in snowshoes herself, she jerked back and forth, waving her poles in the air above her head.
    But I was not in a position to say anything unkind about Doris’s mom. She was more fretful about her child than most of the parents at school, but she was one of the few willing to come with us to Winter Valley and the only parent willing to face the mountain beside us.
    Having lifted me out of the snow, Doris’s mom turned to lead us back up the hill, but upon taking her first step, she lurched up and over her own snowshoes. As soon as she hit the snow, she began to somersault. There was no one below to stop her tumbling, so I watched as she, a groaning, growing orb of whiteness, disappeared down the hill.
    Where she ended up, I do not know. But it took an hour for the instructors to find her.
    By the time I returned to the camp, everyone was convinced that I was responsible for whatever had happened to Doris’s mom. There was even a rumor that I’d pushed her. For the remaining days at Winter Valley, no one spoke to me; I was not included in group activities; and at the meals, I sat alone.
    Just before we returned to New York, word came back to us that Doris’s mom was alive and conscious but had broken a number of bones and would be in the hospital for a couple weeks. I could not have felt worse about this.
    Despite my efforts to move forward, to find friends, to be appreciated in some way, I was back at that pool party, the baby throwing me off balance, the look on the faces of the others. My life was folding back on itself.
    â€”
    In school the following Monday, it was clear that my place was fixed: I would, for the rest of my life, be known as the least popular kid in the elementary school. Before Winter Valley, I had comforted myself with the thought that there was time for things to change. Now it was too close to graduation. Doris’s mom was still in the hospital, and she was not getting out any time soon. In fact, the doctors were now saying that she would need another operation.
    One morning, my mother sent me to school with a nicely wrapped package for Doris’s mother. When I handed it to Doris, I assured her that her mom was going to love thegift, though I had not bothered to ask my mother what was inside.
    Because I’d delivered the gift on the very day that Doris’s mom was scheduled for her second operation, Doris was able to unwrap it for her as soon as she awoke. So after a day of having titanium rods inserted into her arm, Doris’s mom opened her eyes to a wicker basket filled with hand creams, each with a cheery message from my mother.
    â€œHaving trouble with your cuticles? Try this.”
    When my father, never wanting to upset my mother, had told her the Winter Valley story, he poured a little too much fabric softener into it, so that she had entirely