"Fräulein Hauser says you can't ski."
"If I couldn't ski I wouldn't have entered the ski meet," Flip said.
Her mind was beginning to feel cold and numb the way her hands did in
the very cold mornings when she was out skiing.
"Did you know that the points made or lost in the ski meet count for
the school teams?" Kaatje asked. "You could make a team lose for the
year if you pulled it down badly enough in the ski meet."
"I won't pull it down," Flip said, but she was beginning to lose faith
in herself.
"Which team are you?"
"Odds. I'm number 97. Please, Kaatje. I promise you I can ski. I know
I've pulled the Odds down in my gym work but I won't pull them down in
the ski meet."
"But how did you learn to ski? Fräulein Hauser said you were so
hopeless she couldn't teach you. Sorry, but that's what she said and
the ski meet's tomorrow so there isn't time to beat around bushes."
"Please, Kaatje," Flip said, "Paul Laurens, Madame Perceval's nephew,
taught me every week-end, and he's a wonderful skier, and we skied
during the holidays all the time and I've practiced an hour every
morning after breakfast. Please, Kaatje, please believe me!" Flip
implored.
Kaatje put her hands on her hips and looked at Flip. "I don't know what
to think. I'm captain of the Evens as well as School Games Captain and
if the Evens win through your losing points the Odds are going to blame
me for it."
"Do you think Mlle. Dragonet would have put my name back on the lists
if she'd thought I couldn't ski?"
"That's just it," Kaatje said. "I wouldn't think so, but you never
know what the Dragon's going to take it into her head to do. If she's
given you permission and you insist that you can ski I suppose there's
nothing I can do about it." Then her frown disappeared and she gave
Flip a friendly grin. "Here's good luck on it anyhow," she said,
holding out her hand.
"Thanks, Kaatje," Flip said, taking it.
13
It couldn't have been a better day for a ski meet. It was very cold and
still and the sky was that wonderful blue that seems to go up, up, up,
and the sun seemed very bright and very far away in the heavens. The
snow sparkled with blinding brilliance and everybody was filled with
excitement.
But Flip sat in the train on the way up to Gstaad and she felt as cold
and white as the snow and not in the least sparkling. Paul left Georges
Laurens with Mlle. Dragonet and Signorina del Rossi and came and sat
next to Flip. Erna and Jackie and the others greeted him with pleased
excitement. Flip heard Sally whispering to Esmée, "Didn't I tell you he
was divine?"
"So you taught Flip to ski!" Solvei exclaimed.
"I didn't have to do much teaching," Paul said. "She's a born skier."
Esmée got up from her seat and stood by them, attracted to the male
presence like the proverbial fly to honey. "I'm just dying to see Flip
ski," she said, smiling provocatively at Paul. "You were just wonderful
to teach her."
"Esmée, sit down," Miss Armstrong called from the end of the car, and
Esmée reluctantly withdrew.
Flip stared out the window with a set face. Her cheeks felt burning hot
and her hands felt icy cold and she had a dull pain in her stomach. I'm
sick, she thought. I feel awful. I should have gone to Mlle. Duvoisine
and she'd have taken my temperature and put me in the infirmary and I
wouldn't have had to be in the ski meet.
But she realized that the horrible feeling wasn't because she was ill,
but because she was frightened. She was even more frightened than she
had been the night she went to meet the man who said he was Paul's
father at the chateau.
She was hardly aware when Paul left her to join the spectators, or when
Erna pushed her in place to wait until the beginners had finished.
Flip watched the beginners carefully and took heart. She was much more
steady on her skis, they were much more a part of her, than they were
on any of the girls in the beginners group; and she knew that she
executed her turns with far more precision and surety than any of them.
She looked at the beginners and she looked at the judges, Fräulein
Hauser, and Miss Redford who had turned out to be quite an expert
skier, from the school; a jolly looking English woman who was sports
mistress at the English school down the mountain; and two professional
skiers who sat smiling tolerantly at the efforts of the beginners.
After the beginners had been tested for form they had a short race
which was won by little Lischen Bechman, one of the smallest girls
in the school and then Flip felt Erna pushing her forward. She stood
in line with all the rest of the intermediates, between Erna and
Maggie Campbell. One of the professional skiers stood up to give the
directions. Flip snapped on her skis and pushed off with the others.
She followed directions in a haze and was immeasurably grateful for the
hours of practice which made her execute her christianas and telemarks
with automatic perfection. The judge told half the girls to drop out,
but Flip was among those left standing as the judge put them through
their paces again.
Now all but five of the girls were sent to the side, Flip, Erna, Esmée
Bodet, Maggie Campbell, and Bianca Colantuono. Flip's mouth felt very
dry and the tip of her tongue stuck out between her teeth. This time
the judge only kept them a few minutes.
Jumping was next and only a few of the intermediates had entered that.
Girls clustered around Flip, exclaiming, laughing,
"Why, Flip, you old fox, you!"
"Why did you keep this up your sleeve, Pill?"
"Did Hauser _really_ refuse to teach you?"
And Kaatje van Leyden came over from the seniors and shook her hand
saying, "Good work, Philippa. You really knew what you were talking
about, didn't you? The Odds don't have to worry about _your_ being on
their team."
Flip blushed with pleasure and looked down at the snow under her feet
and she loved it so and was filled with such excitement and triumph
that she wanted to get down on her knees and kiss it; but instead she
watched the jumpers. She felt that Erna was by far the best and was
pleased with the thought that she would win.
Then it was time for the Short Race. Flip stood poised at the top of
the hill and launched herself forward at the signal. She tried to
cut through the cold air with the swift precision of an arrow and was
pleased when she came in fifth, because Madame had told her not to
worry about the Short Race, to enter it only for experience, because
she would do best in the Long Race.
While the seniors lined up for form, Flip and the other intermediates
who had signed up for the Long Race got on the funicular to go up to
the starting point further up the mountain. Madame Perceval had taken
Flip over the course of the race several times during the holidays so
she was almost as familiar with it as the other girls who had been
skiing it once a week with Fräulein Hauser.
They were all tense as they lined up at the starting point. Kaatje
van Leyden gave the signal and they were off. Flip felt a sense of
wild exhilaration as she started down the mountain, and she knew that
nothing else was like this. Flying in a plane could not give you this
feeling of being the bird, of belief in your own personal wings.
Before the race was half over it became evident that it was to be
between Flip, Erna, and Esmée. Flip's mind seemed to be cut cleanly
in half; one half was filled with pure pleasure at the skiing and the
other with a set determination to win this race. The three of them kept
very close together, first one, then another, taking the advantage.
Then, as they had to go through a clump of trees, Erna took the lead
and pushed ahead with Flip next and Esmée dropping well behind.
Flip made a desperate effort and had just spurted ahead of Erna when
she heard a cry, and, looking back, she saw Erna lying in the snow. She
checked her speed, turned, and went back. As Erna saw her coming she
called out, "Go on, Flip! Go on! Don't worry about me!"
But she ended on a groan and Flip continued back up the mountainside.
Esmée flashed by without even looking at Erna; and Flip, as she slowly
made her way up the snow, thought, I've lost the race.