At the top of the slide, a park district employee stood just to the right of the chute with a heavy wooden lever that locked the sled in place while it was being loaded and released to free the sled when it was ready to make its run.
When he got a close look at how it all worked, Ross took Nest aside. "I can't do this," he told her quietly. "Getting up there is just too hard."
"Oh." She glanced at his staff. "I forgot."
His eyes shifted to the others. "I'd better wait here."
She nodded. "Okay, John. I'll watch him."
He didn't have to ask whom she was talking about. He stood aside as Robert got the rest of them in line, carrying the toboggan tipped on end with its steering rope hanging down the bed. When they reached the ladder and began to climb, Nest took the lower end of the toboggan to help boost it up. Ross glanced downhill to where the toboggan chute rested comfortably in its cradle of support timbers, lowering toward the earth as it neared the ice in a long, gradual incline. Lights brightened the pathway, leaving the chute revealed until it reached the ice. On the ice, everything was dark.
Robert's group climbed the platform and stood waiting for the sled ahead of them to load and release. Ross shifted his weight in the snow, leaning on his staff, his eyes wandering off into the trees. A pair of feeders slid like oil through the shadows. He tensed, then shook his head admonishingly. Stop worrying, he told himself. There were lights and people everywhere. A few feeders creeping around in the darkness didn't necessarily mean anything.
He glanced skyward for Pick, but didn't see him.
Moments later, Robert's group was climbing onto the sled, Robert steering, Kyle behind him, then Bennett, Harper, Little John, and Nest. They tucked themselves in place. Except for Robert, each had legs wrapped around the waist of the person ahead, hands and arms locked on shoulders. Kyle and Harper were laughing and shouting. Little John was staring off into the dark.
When the lock bar was released, the sled slid away from the loading platform into the night, picking up speed as it went, the sound of its flat runners on the frozen snow and ice a rough, loud chitter. Down the sled went, tearing through a wave of cold and snow, of freezing air, of shouts and screams. Ross watched until it reached the ice and disappeared from view.
All around him, families were lining up for another run.
One run, however, was more than enough for Bennett Scott. Harper, crazy little kid, was eating it up, screaming and howling like a banshee all the way down the run, laughing hysterically when it was over, then begging all the way back up the slope to do it again.
"Mommy, Mommy, go fast, go fast!" she trilled.
If the ride wasn't enough to give Bennett heart failure, the climb would finish the job, and by the time she'd reached the top again, she was gasping for breath and desperate for a cigarette.
"Mind if I sit this one out?" she asked Nest as they lined up for another run. That creepy guy Ross was standing off to the side, looking like he was about to be jumped or something, and if he didn't have to go with his kid, then Bennett didn't see why she should feel obligated to go with hers.
"Sure," Nest agreed, peering at her. "Are you okay?"
Bennett shrugged. "Define okay. 1 just need a cigarette, that's all." She looked at Harper. "Honey, can you go with Nest, let Mommy take a break?"
The little girl gave her a questioning look, then nodded and turned away to say something to Kyle. He appeared to have hit it off with her, even if Little John hadn't. Creepy kid for a creepy father. She felt sorry for him, but that's the way things worked out. She should know.
Deliberately avoiding John Ross, who was looking somewhere else anyway, she moved away as the others took their place in line. She took a deep breath, her lungs aching with cold and fatigue, fished in her pocket for her cigarettes, knocked one loose from the pack, and reached for her lighter.
Someone else's lighter flared right in front of her face, and she dipped her cigarette tip to catch the fire. Drawing in a deep lungful of heat and smoke, she looked into Penny's wild green eyes.
"Hey, girlfriend," Penny said, snapping shut the lighter.
Bennett exhaled and blew smoke in her face. "Get away from me."
Penny smiled. "You don't mean that."
"Try me." Bennett began to move away.
"Wait!" Penny caught up to her and kept pace as she walked. "I got something for you."
"I don't want it."
"Sure you do. It's good stuff. White lightning and mellow smoke. It'll make you fly and glide all night. I took some earlier. Let me tell you, this town becomes a better place in a hurry."
Bennett sucked on her cigarette and kept her gaze turned away. "Just leave me alone, all right?"
"Look, you hate it here as much as me. Don't pretend you don't." Penny brushed at her wild hair, eyes darting everywhere at once, feral and hungry. "This town is for losers. It's nowhere! I keep trying to find something to do besides sit around listening to Grandma snore. There's not even a dance club! Bunch of bars with redneck mill workers and farmers. 'How's the crop this year, Jeb?' 'Oh, pretty fair, Harv.' Like that. Only way to get past losing your mind is doing a little something to keep sane."
"I'm off drugs." Bennett stopped at the edge of the trees where the darkness grew so heavy she couldn't make out even the trunks. She was already too far away from the light. "I'm clean and I'm staying clean."
"State of mind, girl," Penny sniffed. "There's clean and there's clean. You do what you want, what you need. You still stay clean."
"Yeah, right."
Penny shrugged. "So now what? You gonna go back up there for more toboggan fun?" Her eyes were on the platform, clearly outlined in the light. "Gonna join your friends?"
Bennett glanced up. Nest, Robert, and the children were standing on the platform, waiting to go next. "Maybe."
Penny laughed, her angular frame twisting for emphasis. "You lie like a rug. You wouldn't go back up there on a bet! But you make believe all you want, if it gets you through your pain. Me, I got a better way. Have a look at this."
She took out a plastic pouch filled with brilliant white powder, took a little of the powder on her finger, and snorted it in. She gasped once, then grinned. "Mother's milk, girl. Try a little?"
Bennett wet her lips, eyes fixed on the pouch. The need inside her was so strong she didn't trust herself to speak or move. She wanted a hit so bad she could hardly stand the thought. Just a little, she was thinking. Just this one time. Penny was right. She was all twisted up inside, fighting to stay straight and not really believing there was any hope for it.
It wouldn't hurt anything. I've used before and kept going. Besides, Harper will be all right, no matter what. Nest is here. Nest is looking after her, probably better than me. Harper likes Nest. She doesn't need me. Anyway, doing a little coke would probably give me some focus. Just a little. I can take as much as I want and stop. I've always been able to do that. I can quit anytime. Anytime I want.
Oh, God, she thought, and squeezed her eyes shut until it hurt. No. No. She folded her thin arms against her body and looked back at the toboggan slide. "You keep it."
Penny kept looking at her for a minute, then tucked the pouch back into her coat pocket. She glanced up at the platform, where Nest and the others were climbing onto the sled.
Her smile was a red slash on her pale face. "Better get back with your friends, take another ride down the chute," she said. She smiled in a dark sort of way, giving Bennett a look that whispered of bad feelings and hard thoughts.