The Pact Read online

  By the time he'd finished half the glass, he couldn't feel his toes or the tips of his fingers. The kitchen was pleasantly fuzzy. By now the bottle was less than half full, and Chris tipped it on its side to watch the alcohol shimmy and run. Maybe they'll think Santa drank it, he thought. To hell with the cookies and milk. He found this hilarious, suddenly, and started to laugh, and that was when he noticed Emily standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

  She was wearing a flannel nightgown that had tiny penguins printed on it; at least he thought they were penguins. "What are you doing?" she asked.

  Chris smiled. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

  Emily didn't answer, just came closer and sniffed at the bottle of Sambuca. "Eww." She wrinkled her nose, holding it away. "This is disgusting."

  "This," Chris corrected, "is heaven." He wondered if Emily had ever had hard liquor. As far as he knew, she hadn't. He entertained the thought of himself as purveyor of evil, and leaned forward, offering her the glass. "Taste it. It's like the candy you get at the movie theatre."

  "Good and Plentys?"

  Chris nodded. "Just like."

  Emily hesitated, but her hand closed over the glass. "I don't know," she said.

  "Chicken."

  Chris knew that was all it would take. Emily's eyes gleamed in the moonlight and her fingers flexed on the juice glass. She tipped it to her lips, upending it before Chris could warn her to taste just a little at a time.

  She started coughing violently, her chest hitching and her mouthful of Sambuca sputtering across the kitchen table. Her eyes went wide, and her hands clutched at her throat. "Jesus," Chris said, whacking her on the back.

  Finally Emily managed to draw a breath. "Oh, my God," she wheezed. "That stuff ... "

  " ... is not for your consumption." Chris and Emily both jerked their heads up to find both sets of their parents crowded into the doorway of the kitchen, in various states of undress. James narrowed his eyes and stepped forward. "Would you mind telling me what you're doing?"

  Chris never did find out why Emily said what she did that night. In the past, when they'd been caught in various scrapes, they'd always stuck by each other--solidarity was the root of their friendship. But this time, beneath his father's furious glare, Emily buckled. "It was Chris," she said, pointing a shaking finger. "He made me try it."

  Dumbfounded, Chris sat back in his chair. "I made you?" he exclaimed. "I made you? I held the glass up to your lips and poured it down?"

  Emily's mouth silently opened and closed, like a fish's.

  "More to the point," his father said, "why are you sitting here drinking alcohol, period?"

  Chris started to explain. But when he looked into his father's eyes, he saw that hare again with its stomach blown apart, and the words he wanted to use could not push past the regret lodged in his throat. He shook his head, and that one movement brought him back to the woods with a smoking shotgun in his hand, staring down at the blood in the snow.

  He covered his mouth and bolted toward the bathroom, but not before he saw Emily lower her eyes and turn away.

  IT WAS NOT a Merry Christmas.

  Chris spent the morning alone in his room at the condo, sitting on the bed while he heard the strained voices of everyone else downstairs opening presents. The only person who actually seemed to be having a good time was Kate, who'd slept through the whole debacle the night before.

  He wondered what they were going to do with his presents. Return them; give them to Goodwill? He doubted he'd ever see them, which truly sucked because he had a pretty good idea that he was getting a pair of new skis he could have used that very day. Chris flopped face down on his bed and tried to convince himself his old skis were fine just the same.

  Just after three, his mother came into the room. She was wearing her ski bib and her goggles were looped around her neck. Seeing her, Chris felt a pang of envy. For all he'd been sick of skiing yesterday, he would have given anything to have stayed on the slopes, instead of hunting for that stupid hare.

  Gus laid a hand on his arm. "Hi," she said. "Merry Christmas."

  "Whatever," Chris said, rolling away from her.

  "Your father and I decided that if you want, you can go out skiing for the rest of the day."

  "The rest of the day" translated to, like, all of an hour. Chris noticed his mother hadn't mentioned any presents. "Emily's here," she said softly. "She didn't want to ski without you."

  As if I give a flying fuck, Chris thought, but instead he only snorted. He watched his mother leave the room, and then he noticed Emily cowering in the doorway. "Hi," she said. "How are you doing?"

  "Peachy," Chris grumbled.

  "You, uh, want to come with me?"

  He didn't; he wouldn't have crawled in a lifeboat with her if their ship was sinking. It didn't matter that she had been frightened last night, and sick probably from the one sip she'd taken; it didn't matter that Chris had never had a chance to tell her why he was drinking in the first place. Emily had become a traitor, and he couldn't forgive that so quickly.

  "I went down Black Adder by myself," she said.

  At that, Chris looked up. Black Adder was one of the toughest runs Sugarloaf had, full of twists and dropoffs and curves that came out of nowhere. He'd gone down a few times but always slowly, since he had to wait for Emily to get over her fear and ski a little ways before she got terrified again. If Emily had gone down alone, it had probably taken her two hours.

  Suddenly something unfurled in the center of Chris's chest. He could get back at Emily for last night, and so easily. She was feeling guilty--that was clear enough--she'd be willing to jump through whatever hoop he asked. He'd take her down a run tougher than Black Adder, one that would have her shaking in her boots by the time she reached the bottom.

  Chris let a smile stripe his dark mood. "Well," he said, standing up. "What are we waiting for?"

  EMILY SHIVERED LIKE an aspen leaf at the dropoff point of Sugarloaf's highest lift, holding her poles in front of her like a barrier between the steep ski run and herself. "Em," Chris yelled impatiently over the wind, "come on."

  She bit her lip and pushed off, snowplowing to keep down her speed. But the curve was too sharp and she wound up in a tangle of arms and legs and skis just behind Chris. "That sucked," she breathed.

  Chris smiled nastily. "That's the easiest part," he said.

  She was seriously considering taking off her skis and walking down the mountain at this point, but she wanted to get back in Chris's good graces. After all, it was her fault that Chris had spent the morning in his room. If Chris was being charitable enough to let her ski with him, then she'd ski upside down, if that's what he wanted.

  She watched Chris wind down the hill, his hips rolling from side to side with catlike grace, the tip of his tasseled hat catching in the wind. A natural athlete, he made it look easy. Taking a deep breath, Emily pushed off with her poles. At the very least, she thought, he'll break my fall.

  She rounded the first turn with too much speed, so that she overshot Chris, parallel but a few feet below him on the hill, flying at an alarming speed to the edge of the groomed trail. "Cut the corner!" she heard Chris yell, and she almost laughed: Did he really think she had that much control?

  One ski, then the other, bumped over the ridge of the trail's edge. She felt thin branches score her cheeks, snow drop from the overhead boughs of pines. She tried to keep her knees together, her feet straight, praying as a cold sweat broke out beneath her arms and down her back. She sensed the air quiver as Chris called her name, and then her ski caught in a furrow of brush, and by the time Emily fell the only thing she felt was relief.

  SHE'S LUCKY SHE didn't break her neck.

  Could have been a lot worse.

  That's got to hurt like hell.

  They didn't think Chris could hear them, but he'd managed to catch every word. The paramedics who'd come to the base lodge to transport Emily in an ambulance had no choice but to take Chris with them to the hospital, s