Page 9 of First Echo

brOOKE

A re you going?

Those three small words kept echoing in my head like a broken record.

Madeline's voice, that perfectly practiced blend of boredom and entitlement, had lingered in my mind far longer than I wanted to admit.

I lay in bed that night, staring at my ceiling, wondering why I couldn't just dismiss her question like I'd dismissed everything else about her.

Pff, who does she think she is? First, she insults me, then pretends to actually be interested in my life, acting like she cares, only to insult me again.

It was this never-ending cycle of mind games with her—one moment showing a glimpse of something genuine, the next reminding me exactly why I couldn't stand her.

"Why don't you have friends?"

That question still burned. How could she ask me that?

She didn't even know who I was before Mr. Sinclair forced us together.

She just assumed I was some lonely loser with no social life.

It was true, but she had no way of knowing that.

The question itself revealed so much about her—how she viewed the world, how she categorized people, how she measured worth.

And like she has real friends? Please. All she has are her brainless Barbie dolls, always ready at her disposal.

Victoria, Audrey, Sophie—they followed her around like she was their personal sun, orbiting her, desperate for her approval.

You call that friendship? At least I didn't have fake people in my life pretending to care about me just to climb some invisible social ladder.

Every morning I woke up, I had to mentally prepare myself for the possibility of seeing her in class.

The way she carried herself through the hallways, like the entire school was her personal runway.

The way other students parted for her like she was royalty.

And now, after everything that happened during our tutoring session, after all the tension and arguments, she had the nerve to sit next to me and ask if I'm going on the senior ski trip, like we're friends or something.

Every time I thought she couldn't get any worse, she somehow did.

I pulled myself out of bed and walked to my closet, where my snowboard was propped against the wall.

I ran my fingers over the glossy surface, remembering the feeling of gliding down a mountain, the rush of cold air against my face, the absolute freedom.

The senior ski trip had been on my mind since freshman year, a bright spot I could look forward to.

A chance to escape the monotony of school life, to reconnect with something I loved.

I already assumed Madeline was going. She's rich, we live in Colorado, and her family probably has their own skiing cabin up in the mountains, complete with a personal chef and hot tub.

The Hayes family name was practically synonymous with privilege in this town.

I'd bet money that Madeline had her own custom designer ski gear that she'd worn maybe once or twice.

I love skiing and snowboarding.

It was one of the few pure joys I had left after mom died.

I started out skiing but then switched to snowboarding as I got older, and I'm actually really good at it too.

There was something about the balance required, the way you had to shift your weight and lean into turns, that just clicked with me.

On the mountain, I wasn't the quiet girl who sat in the front of the class or the one who lost her mom too young. I was just free.

I wasn't going to let the fact that Madeline was going ruin this trip for me.

I had been looking forward to this trip since I was a freshman.

Five days away from home, away from the pressure of being perfect, away from the constant reminders of what I'd lost. Five days of just me, my board, and the mountain.

The night before the trip, I couldn't sleep.

I kept checking and rechecking my packing list, making sure I had everything I needed.

Extra socks, my thermal layers, my favorite beanie—the blue one my mom had given me for my fourteenth birthday, the last one I'd ever get from her.

I'd worn it every time I went snowboarding since.

The morning we were leaving, we had to be on the bus at seven in the morning sharp.

My alarm blared at five, though I'd been awake since four thirty, too excited and nervous to stay asleep.

I got up and started packing my final items, making sure I had all my gear.

I had my own snowboard and snowboard boots.

It was a lot to carry, so my dad helped me load it into his car before driving me to school.

The streets were still dark as we drove, the sky just beginning to lighten at the edges. My dad hummed along to the radio, some old song that used to make my mom roll her eyes and laugh. The memory made my chest ache in that familiar way, a pain I'd learned to live with.

I was one of the first people to arrive at school. The large coach bus was already waiting in the parking lot, its engine running, puffs of exhaust visible in the cold morning air. A few teachers milled around, checking clipboards and organizing luggage.

My dad helped me load my stuff into the bus, then gave me a big emotional hug goodbye.

It was my first ski trip without him. My mom loved skiing.

So did my dad. We always used to go on ski trips together, making some of the best memories on those trips.

The three of us would race down the slopes, laughing, stopping for hot chocolate with extra whipped cream at the lodge.

I could see it kind of hurt my dad that I was going without him for the first time since my mom died.

It hurt me too. It reminded me so much of my mom.

The way she would wake us up early on ski days, already buzzing with excitement.

The way she always insisted on one more run, even when the sun was setting and the slopes were emptying.

The way she would reach over and adjust my goggles, making sure they fit just right.

"Be careful, okay?" my dad said to me while hugging me. His arms were tight around me, and I could feel the slight tremor in his hands. He was trying to be strong, but I knew this was hard for him too.

"I will, Dad," I replied, breathing in the familiar scent of his aftershave.

"Send me pictures. And you know you can call me whenever you want to talk about whatever, right?" His voice had that slight crack to it, the one that appeared whenever he was trying not to let his emotions show.

"Yes, Dad, I know. I will." I gave him one more squeeze before pulling away. If I stayed in his arms any longer, I might change my mind about going.

I got on the bus, waved my dad goodbye, and watched as he drove away, his car growing smaller and smaller until it disappeared around a corner. The emptiness in my chest expanded a little, but I pushed it down, reminding myself that I was going to have fun. That's what my mom would have wanted.

I chose a seat near the middle of the bus, not too far back where the rowdy kids would sit, but not too close to the front where the teachers would be keeping an eye on everyone.

I put my AirPods in and started listening to some music, thinking about the trip.

The slopes waiting for me, the feeling of fresh powder beneath my board, the crisp mountain air filling my lungs.

It was nice.

I felt at peace for the first time in a while. Just sitting there, having something really fun to look forward to. The music washed over me, and I closed my eyes, imagining the perfect blue sky above the mountain peaks, the rush of adrenaline as I carved my way down a steep run.

The closer it got to seven, the more people got on the bus. Each time the doors opened, a burst of cold air would rush in, along with the excited chatter of students. I kept my eyes on my phone, not really wanting to engage with anyone. Most of them wouldn't notice me anyway.

I noticed Sam and Julian arrived without Madeline and sat down next to each other a few rows behind me.

Sam looked different without Madeline by his side, more relaxed, laughing easily with Julian.

It was strange seeing him as just a regular guy rather than an extension of Madeline's social kingdom.

Madeline not sitting next to Sam. That's weird.

I hadn't expected that. They were always together, her arm hooked through his, his hand resting on her waist. The perfect couple, like something out of a high school movie. I wondered if they'd had a fight, or if she was just running late as usual.

Then Madeline's "friends" arrived.

Audrey Bennett. Your typical skinny blonde cheerleader who still thinks it's cool to have an eating disorder and pretend to be a dumb blonde.

Although she probably wasn't pretending.

She had straight blonde hair and brown eyes, always perfectly styled and made up, even at seven in the morning.

She walked with that bouncy step that seemed calculated to draw attention to her petite frame.

Victoria Langston. Dark-skinned, short, always wore these pretty braids, and had dark brown eyes, which was actually really striking.

But that was all that was pretty about her, since she might be even more of a bitch than Madeline.

I'd once heard her reduce a freshman to tears just for accidentally bumping into her in the hallway.

She carried herself with the same entitled confidence as Madeline, though hers seemed more deliberately cultivated.

And lastly, Sophie Lawson. She was pretty tall for a Latina. She was from Argentina. She had wavy black hair and beautiful dark green eyes. She was actually kind of nice. I never quite understood why she was part of their friend group.

Actually, I did. She just desperately wanted to be popular, like everyone else.

Not me, though.

I was perfectly fine flying under the radar.