Page 21 of First Echo

MADELINE

I was so exhausted. The day's snowboarding lessons with Brooke followed by hours with my friends had completely drained me.

My muscles ached in places I didn't even know could ache.

As soon as I got back to the room, I dropped my gear by the door and collapsed onto my bed with a deep sigh, feeling the tension begin to seep out of my body.

"Please don't fall asleep again," Brooke said sarcastically, barely glancing up from her book. "I'd rather not have to wake you for dinner and deal with the wrath that follows."

"I'm not sleeping," I mumbled, though my heavy eyelids were already threatening to betray me. "Just resting my eyes."

She made a noncommittal sound and returned to her reading.

I watched her through half-closed eyes, noticing the way she seemed completely absorbed in whatever world existed between those pages.

Whatever connection we'd formed during our time on the mountain seemed to have vanished, like footprints covered by fresh snow.

We were back to being strangers sharing a room.

The silence stretched between us, broken only by the occasional sound of Brooke turning a page. I should have been grateful for the quiet after the noise and chaos of the day, but something about it felt stifling, uncomfortable.

"So," Brooke said eventually, her voice careful and measured. "You're actually pretty good at snowboarding. For a beginner."

I opened my eyes, slightly surprised that she'd initiated conversation. "Anyone can look good when they've got someone showing them what to do," I said with a half-shrug. "Not exactly rocket science."

A hint of a smile crossed her face before disappearing again. She turned another page, but I could tell she wasn't really reading anymore.

"Can I ask you something?" she said after another moment of silence.

"Depends on what it is," I replied, propping myself up on my elbows.

She seemed to consider her words carefully before speaking. "Why are you friends with those people?"

The question caught me off guard. "What people?"

"Your friends," she clarified, setting her book down on her lap, her gaze direct and unflinching.

"Victoria, Audrey, Julian... even Sam sometimes.

The girl I spent the morning with—the one who threw snowballs and laughed without caring who was watching—she seems different from the Madeline who hangs out with them. "

I felt a defensive response rising in my throat, but something in her expression stopped me. She wasn't asking to be cruel; there was genuine curiosity there.

"They're not that bad," I said weakly, though the words sounded hollow even to my own ears.

Brooke raised an eyebrow. "Aren't they? The way Julian talked to me today... and the others just stood there. Including you, at first." She paused, then asked more quietly, "I guess I just don't understand who you're lying to—me? Them? Or yourself?"

The question hit me like a slap. Who did she think she was, judging my friendships, my choices? She had known me for what, a few weeks? And suddenly she thought she had me all figured out?

"That's pretty rich coming from someone who doesn't have any friends at all," I shot back, the words coming out sharper than I'd intended. "At least I know what it's like to be part of a group. What would you know about any of it?"

As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. I saw something flicker across her face—hurt, maybe, before her expression hardened into a mask of indifference.

"You're right," she said coolly. "What would I know? I've only seen how they all left you alone on the mountain earlier today. And how your brother treats people. But clearly, I'm missing something about this amazing friendship dynamic you've got going on."

Her words hit closer to home than I wanted to admit.

Just hours ago, when I fell on the mountain, they had all left when I insisted they go.

Sam had wanted to stay, and I was the one who told him to leave.

But why had he listened? Why hadn't he pushed harder to make sure I was okay?

And Julian's behavior... well, that was Julian being Julian, but should I really accept that as normal?

But acknowledging that would mean admitting Brooke was right, and I wasn't about to give her that satisfaction.

"You don't know anything about my life," I said coldly. "So don't pretend you do."

She looked at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Madeline."

With that, she picked up her book again, effectively ending the conversation. I turned away, facing the wall, feeling a strange mixture of anger and something else—something that felt uncomfortably close to shame.

We didn't speak again for the rest of the evening.

When the time came for dinner, we walked to the dining hall separately, maintaining a careful distance from each other.

I sat with my usual crowd, laughing at Julian's jokes, responding to Victoria's gossip, holding Sam's hand beneath the table.

I did everything right, played my part perfectly, but the whole time I could feel Brooke's words echoing in my mind.

Who are you lying to?

After dinner, we all gathered in the lodge's common area.

Someone had started a fire in the massive stone fireplace, and the room was filled with the warm glow of flames and the excited chatter of students planning their runs for tomorrow.

I curled up beside Sam on one of the oversized couches, my head on his shoulder, trying to focus on the conversation around me.

But my gaze kept drifting to where Brooke sat alone in a corner armchair, her nose buried in that same book from earlier.

Eventually, the exhaustion of the day caught up with me.

I said my goodnights and headed back to the room, my muscles aching pleasantly from the day's exertion.

Brooke stayed behind in the common area, probably to avoid another uncomfortable conversation.

Part of me was relieved for the solitude, but another part felt strangely disappointed.

I fell asleep quickly, my dreams a confused jumble of snowball fights and judging eyes and questions I couldn't answer.

When I woke the next morning, Brooke was already gone. Her bed was neatly made, her side of the room pristine, as if she'd never been there at all. I wasn't surprised—she seemed to have a habit of disappearing before dawn—but it still irritated me for reasons I couldn't quite articulate.

I took my time getting ready, not particularly eager to face the day or my friends after the strange mood that had followed me from last night's conversation with Brooke. By the time I made it down to breakfast, the dining hall was already bustling with activity.

Victoria spotted me first, waving me over to the table where she sat with the usual group. Julian was in the middle of some story, gesturing animatedly while the others laughed. I slid into the empty seat beside Sam, who greeted me with a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," Julian teased, pausing his story. "Your roommate abandoned you again?"

I shrugged, reaching for the pitcher of orange juice. "She gets up early. Not everybody sleeps until noon like you do."

"Probably eager to hit the slopes before anyone can see how much of a show-off she is," Victoria commented, her voice dripping with disdain.

"She's not showing off," I said before I could stop myself. "She's just good at snowboarding."

Victoria raised an eyebrow, exchanging a look with Audrey that made my skin prickle with annoyance. "Since when are you defending Little Miss Perfect?"

"Yeah, Mads," Julian chimed in, his tone mocking. "Don't tell me you've actually started to like your charity case roommate?"

"She's not a charity case," I snapped, suddenly feeling a surge of defensiveness. "And maybe if you weren't so busy making crude comments yesterday, you'd have noticed she's actually a decent person."

A stunned silence fell over the table. Sam shifted uncomfortably beside me, while Victoria and Audrey stared at me like I'd grown a second head. Julian was the first to recover, his surprise quickly morphing into amusement.

"Well, well," he drawled. "Looks like someone's got a little girl crush on the snowboard nerd."

Heat flooded my cheeks, though whether from embarrassment or anger, I wasn't sure. "Don't be ridiculous. I just think maybe we could all try being a little less judgmental for once."

"Says the queen of judgment," Victoria muttered, rolling her eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, my voice sharper than intended.

"Come on, Mads," she scoffed. "You're the one who's constantly critiquing everyone and everything. Or did you forget that entire conversation last month about how Leah's new haircut made her look like, and I quote, 'a sad poodle caught in a rainstorm'?"

I felt something twist in my stomach, a sick sort of realization that she was right. I did say things like that, all the time. When had I become that person? Had I always been that way?

"Whatever," I said, pushing my plate away and standing up. "I'm going to hit the slopes. I'll see you guys later."

"Wait, I'll come with you," Sam offered, starting to rise as well.

"No," I said quickly, perhaps too quickly based on the hurt that flashed across his face. "I kind of want to practice on my own for a bit. I'll catch up with you later."

Before anyone could protest further, I walked away, ignoring the whispers that immediately broke out behind me. I knew they were talking about me, probably speculating on what was wrong with me or why I was suddenly defending Brooke, of all people.

The thing was, I didn't really know myself.

Outside, the morning air was crisp and cold, the sky a brilliant blue that promised another perfect day on the mountain. I grabbed my snowboard from the equipment check and headed toward the lifts, my mind buzzing with conflicting thoughts.

Why had I defended Brooke? Why did Julian's comments bother me so much? And why couldn't I stop thinking about Brooke's question from last night?

Who are you lying to?

The worst part was, I didn't have an answer.

I didn't know who I was anymore—or if I'd ever really known to begin with.

I'd spent so long being what everyone expected me to be—the popular girl, the perfect girlfriend, the queen bee—that I wasn't sure what parts of me were real and what parts were just an act.

I was so lost in thought that I didn't even pay attention to which lift line I was entering. It wasn't until I was already seated and the chair was moving that I realized I wasn't alone.

Brooke sat beside me, looking just as surprised as I felt.

She was bundled up in her snowboarding gear, a beanie pulled low over her ears, her helmet laying on the seat beside her, her cheeks already flushed from the cold.

For a moment, neither of us spoke, the only sound the mechanical whir of the lift carrying us higher up the mountain.

Ten minutes. That's how long this lift ride would take to reach the top.

Ten minutes trapped next to the last person I wanted to see right now—the girl whose words had been haunting me since last night, the girl I'd just inexplicably defended to my friends, the girl who somehow seemed to see right through me in a way that terrified me more than I cared to admit.

Ten long minutes with nowhere to go and nothing to do but face whatever uncomfortable conversation was about to unfold between us.