Without thinking twice, I went up to Marie, a girl from my math class. "Hi, I'm Carly," I said. "Fracture anything yet?"
We'd been studying fractions all week, but she missed the common denominator of my joke.
Her face reddened. "They had to stop the ski lift so I could get on," she said. "I wanted to die."
"Aw, that's nothing," said a kid named Joey as he leaned in. He took off his cool sunglasses. "I had to change my name and put on a disguise after the Ski Patrol chased me for going too fast."
"Look what happened to me!" said a guy behind them. He wore a bike helmet, and the exposed hair that peeked out around his face was frozen into stiff, curly ringlets. Matt Hall. We rode the same bus every day but hadn't said so much as "Hi" before.
"I did a belly flop to avoid the tree that jumped into my way," Marie and I laughed. And to my surprise, I discovered that my mother was right. I'd forgotten that I was a social misfit. What better way to get acquainted?
Matt, Joey, Marie, and I hit the slopes again.
The ski slopes? No way! Instead, we went dashing through the snow. No horse, no sleigh. We were the kids tobogganing near the lodge on the backs of our ski jackets.
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