The Rush This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   It all starts as I look out the ice covered windows, with the water vapor running down, to see six inches of fresh powder which had fallen during the night, and the sun shining bright.

After I dressed in my turtleneck, long-johns, racing sweater, and snow pants, it's off to the mountain. Even though I go skiing often, when I see the snow-capped mountain in the distance from the car, I am always breathless at its beauty: the white snow on top of the trees, with the gentle wind shaking the snow-covered branches. It is like a miniature snowstorm just for my viewing enjoyment. When I get out of the car, I become paranoid for no particular reason and frantically check for all of my supplies in a rage to make sure I haven't forgotten anything.

Once I get my skis on and my poles in place, I begin my journey. Thirty minutes later, I am on the high-speed quad chairlift, heading to the top with my family. To many people, the chairlift is a boring, but not to me. In my mind this is my opportunity to see some of the trails and plan my descent. I pay special attention to the quality and amount of snow - whether it is powder, hard-packed, granular, slushy, or icy. I also look to see what the vertical drop is and whether there are moguls.

Uh ,oh, the end of the lift is coming and my brothers are trying to be funny by holding the bar down. Every time they do this, I get annoyed but still get off perfectly fine. Poles on, goggles in place, I finalize what trail we will go down. I always suggest to start off easily, but my brothers force me to be a man and warm up on the hardest trail.

"Have no fear," they say to me, "it's not that bad." In their mind all I have to do is "go really fast, and if something is in your way, turn." This is from a film I saw, Better Off Dead, and for all I know I might be.

A drop of warm sweat gently runs down my face as I think of the steep slope and large moguls awaiting me. It's no big deal, I think to myself in a poor effort to calm myself. As I reach the top of the trail, I suddenly hesitate and I have an urge to wimp out. Not a chance; have no fear, hve no fear!!! Ah ...

Okay, this is not too bad; it's just a huge vertical drop with moguls as tall as me. What was there for me to worry about? What am I saying, never again will I do this, never again will I let my brothers tell me which trail to take; I'm going to kill them if I get to the bottom.

The bottom, such sweet flat snow.

"Hey guys, what trail are we going down next? That was too easy," I say, as I think to myself, what did I do now?

Alright, settle down, Steve, prove to your brothers that you are a man and can do anything they can, and better. Yes, I can do it, I can beat those low-lifes at their own game. Yes, I will put them to the test. Oh my gosh, I can't do this; what am I thinking. I am just their little brother and will be for the rest of my life. But, always remember the youngest brother has one advantage over the older brothers: he can get away with murder. l


This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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