Non-classifiable
"You can't do that," Luke said. "If those two guys catch you, they'll kill you."
"If I don't do it," I said, "they're going to kill hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth of bloodline bulls. Including the one I used to feed by hand with a bottle."
I turned and ran back toward the barn.
I was in the trees and three turns down before I noticed that something was wrong. My bindings were loose on the board. They rattled when I turned.
I struggled for control, but I was going too fast. My board shot free. It hurtled down the hill without me. I hit the snow hard and flipped, my bindings still attached to my boots. It hurt.
I tucked and rolled. I was still in the trees. Bad place to fall.
"There are many causes for which I am prepared to die, but none for which I am prepared to kill," Mr. Roberts said. "Does anybody know who said that?"
I didn't allow myself to think about what I was doing, because if I did, I knew I would chicken out. I just typed the name and hit Enter.
Zhwuuup! In a flash my information was gone, launched into cyberspace somewhere. Before I had time to blink, a new page appeared on the screen. It was bare except for two short sentences: You are logged on, Roxane. You may now enter a forum.
My heart started beating so hard it hurt. Oh my god--what had I done? I was a registered chatter! Now I could be traced. The site administrator could track me down.
"Here they come!" Courtney learned eagerly against the railing. A blur of orange streaked past before I had a chance to see it clearly. The sled went into the turn. I watched it careering back and forth on the smooth curved ice of the track as it rocketed through the Kreisel.
"Aren't they supposed to keep the sled steady, Trevor?" asked Robyn.
"I think so," I answered. Courtney's attention was riveted to the orange sled that was fishtailing out of control.
"What's wrong?" Robyn said, just as a screech of tearing metal filled the air. Something silver had wernched loose and was lying on the ice. The sled flipped.
"Josh!" Courney screeched. The bobsled landed on its side and skidded toward the final turn, where it slowed to a grinding stop.
I felt light and free, like an escaped prisoner. Tonight, for the first time ever, I would sleep up here on my own. Just me and the wilderness. I wanted to bellow out in triumph, like a big old bull elk. But I had almost reached my cabin, so I loped along on silent feet. Like a creature of the wild, I approached my lair in silence. I slowed down, advanced cautiously, stayed on high alert to keep my territory safe from predators.
I raised my head, sniffed the air and knew something was wrong. Mixed with the musty odor of damp earth and the Christmas-tree scent of firs, was a trace of wood smoke. A chill spread up the back of my neck. Here in the forest, smoke could come from only one place. My cabin.
I marched toward Stillman, who was at the far free-throw line, standing with the ball on his hip. "What exactly is your problem?" I said, looking directly into his black eyes.
"Just you," Stillman replied, an irritating smirk forming at one corner of his mouth. "I thought you were supposed to be a basketball player, not one of the funny boys of the drama department.
