to his eyes.
Max heard the spectators shouting.
He focused on the finish line and flexed his arm muscles in an almighty surge of power. Seconds later he heard the electronic buzz as he passed through the time gate.
He eased towards the bank, and eager hands helped steady the kayak. Using the paddle for support, he pulled himself out. Exhausted, he gasped for oxygen. One of the stewards shouted for a paramedic.
Max ignored the stewards’ fuss and pushed his way through the crowd to get a clear view of the time board.
It wasn’t his best, but he had still beaten two of the others. He’d get through to the snowboarding final on those points. Had he made better time and accumulated more points he would have been in with a stronger chance for the last phase of the competition. Now it was going to take something extraordinary in his freestyle event to snatch back those points.
He looked up towards the mountain pass.
The men and the car had gone.
The organizers bused the competitors back up the valley and gave them two hours to eat and prepare themselves for the final event of the day. This last week had been pretty relentless because it was about stamina as well as skill. Bobby Morrell was the clear favorite now, as he’d achieved a scorching time on the river. There were three other contenders besides Bobby and Max: the German girl, who had trained on the custom-built snowboard course in Munich; a French seventeen-year-old who was clearly the favorite of the home crowd; and a Dutch boy who had surprised Max by managing to reach this stage. A Hungarian girl, lithe and beautiful like a gymnast, and who looked Californian with her modern, short hairstyle, had originally been a favorite. Always smiling, she was also well liked by everyone, especially the boys, but they kept a respectful distance when they learned that she and Bobby were a couple. Her name was Potyncza Jozsa, and she seemed more competitive than most. Even Bobby would stand back and shake his head at her focused determination. Her name was a tongue- twister, so she always introduced herself, and then added, “But call me Peaches; everyone does.” And that was how everyone knew her.
Initially she seemed to have had the Dutch kid beaten hands down, but she’d blown it at the kayak event with a stupid mistake. Bobby had tried to console her, but she was too angry with herself. With a kiss for luck, she left Bobby to concentrate on the competition and went back to the hotel for a hot bath and probably, Max reckoned, a good cry out of everyone’s sight. In a way he was relieved she’d lost her placing. Peaches would have been a lot tougher to beat than the Dutch boy. He wasn’t too much of a threat, because he had even less experience than Max at freestyle snowboarding. So, five contenders remaining; two runs each to battle it out for the championship.
Max needed four stitches to close the cut over his eye. The medic decided that a Steri-Strip would not staunch the bleeding and did the needlework in the field tent as Bobby Morrell stood watching.
“You could ask for a late start for the final, Max,” Bobby said.
“No. I want to get on with it. Did you see a loose kayak on the big bend?”
“Yeah, black with a white scattered design.”
Max nodded. “Anyone in it?”
“No. I thought it must have broken loose earlier in the day. The marshals should have checked the river. A loose boat like that could’ve caused big problems. There were tough conditions today.”
Max winced as the antiseptic and sutures stung; the medic apologized.
Morrell studied him a moment. “Was that kayak out there a problem for you? Is that how you got cut? Listen, you can ask for a rerun. I won’t object, and I bet the others won’t either.”
The French medic dabbed the wound. “It’s done. Don’t worry-the girls, they like a scar,” he said.
Max pulled on his ski jacket. Bobby was right. He could ask for another go at the river if he wanted. He shook his head.
The mountain was waiting.
The specially constructed snowboard run was a long, sloping drop from the start gate until the end, where the sculpted curve flared upwards for takeoff. The accumulated points from the previous Xtreme events meant Max was in third place. There was no time for regrets about the wildwater-he was still in with a chance. The Dutch boy had done a fairly mediocre jump, leaving a deficit of points that could not be made up on his next attempt. He was out.
Max readied himself. Tingling nerves, deep breaths, good old-fashioned stage fright, which he settled into a concentrated visualization. He was cool. This was it.
Jump one-pile on the speed, focus on the middle of the ramp, hit air. He needed a big ollie-a high jump-so he hit the ramp hard, kicked the tail of his snowboard down and lifted the front with his leading boot. He pulled his knees up high, carrying the momentum, and grabbed the toe-edge of the board with his trailing hand. It was silent. No scrape of snow on board. No wind. Nothing. He threw his arm high, needing a backside 360-a big one: a huge, stylish spin of 360 degrees. He felt the swish of air on his face; saw the blurred crowd, then the mountain, then the slope as he spun. He’d done it! His legs dropped and the board hit the slope.
The energy rush was great. When he slid into the finish area, Bobby Morrell gave him a high five. It had been a well-executed jump with something he had had little practice at. In its simplest form it was not considered too difficult a feat, but Max had taken a slow, high twist, and that was all about style.
The German girl was next, and then Bobby.
Max watched as the girl gave a stunning performance. The crowd roared, whooping and cheering. His heart sank at her skill and the points that illuminated the board. Max was now pushed into fourth place, but when Bobby Morrell dazzled everyone his score pushed Max into fifth place. After all that effort, he was one ride away from being out of the competition.
Max needed something so spectacular that it would wow the judges. He had seen a blistering jump made the previous year by a top-class American snowboarder-a high-speed exit from the start gate, hitting the ramp fast, and a double flip. A single inversion was relatively easy using the body’s natural tilt as the board hit the ramp’s wall, but to somersault twice in the air? To succeed, Max needed a lot of height and a perfectly balanced landing-and a lot of experience. By the time he stood at the jump-off gate again, he had made up his mind.
He was going for the big one.
The crowd’s faces blurred, the curving downhill run seemed narrower and snow began to fall, thick leaflike flakes spiraling downwards. The mountains would have fresh powder-nice, deep, unspoiled conditions. It’d be quiet up there, not like here; no cheering and screaming going on from all those faces, knowing that this was his make- or-break jump.
Max had a knack of being able to replicate what others could do. It was as if he had a camera in his brain that clicked a million frames a second and fed the information to his body. A muscle memory.
Max knew he could do this jump.
His run-in was fast; he soared up the snow wall and, easing the pressure on the toe-edge of his board, he kept his head high and squared his body. He was airborne. Throwing his rear shoulder at an angle, he reached down for the edge of his board, grabbing it between the foot bindings. He had to hold on, against the pull of the somersault. Bringing his legs up into his body, he felt the tug of air on his jacket’s fabric as he completed another backward curl. He gripped his fist even more tightly on the board’s edge, heard a muted, almost hypnotic roar from the crowd as they realized what he was doing. Another rotation! His fingers were slipping from the board’s edge; if he lost his grip now he’d fall badly onto his back and neck. Clamping his hand tighter, knuckles aching and leg muscles coiled, he felt the final somersault complete. Earth and snow-speckled sky smudged his vision. The big hit was in the landing. He had to take the shock through his legs, but it was his stomach muscles that needed to be tight to keep his body balanced. His snowboard thumped onto the ground, his arms went out for balance, but his center of gravity had shifted and he tumbled backwards.
In that instant he knew it was over. Max grunted in pain as his back hit the ground and his body slid, uncontrolled, towards the crowd.
