"Did you know that the points made or lost in the ski meet count for the school teams?" Kaatje asked. "You could make a team lose for the year if you pulled it down badly enough in the ski meet."
"I won't pull it down," Flip said, but she was beginning to lose faith in herself.
"Which team are you?"
"Odds. I'm number 97. Please, Kaatje. I promise you I can ski. I know I've pulled the Odds down in my gym work but I won't pull them down in the ski meet."
"But how did you learn to ski? Fräulein Hauser said you were so hopeless she couldn't teach you. Sorry, but that's what she said and the ski meet's tomorrow so there isn't time to beat around bushes."
"Please, Kaatje," Flip said, "Paul Laurens, Madame Perceval's nephew, taught me every week-end, and he's a wonderful skier, and we skied during the holidays all the time and I've practiced an hour every morning after breakfast. Please, Kaatje, please believe me!" Flip implored.
Kaatje put her hands on her hips and looked at Flip. "I don't know what to think. I'm captain of the Evens as well as School Games Captain and if the Evens win through your losing points the Odds are going to blame me for it."
"Do you think Mlle. Dragonet would have put my name back on the lists if she'd thought I couldn't ski?"
"That's just it," Kaatje said. "I wouldn't think so, but you never know what the Dragon's going to take it into her head to do. If she's given you permission and you insist that you can ski I suppose there's nothing I can do about it." Then her frown disappeared and she gave Flip a friendly grin. "Here's good luck on it anyhow," she said, holding out her hand.
"Thanks, Kaatje," Flip said, taking it.
13
Itcouldn't have been a better day for a ski meet. It was very cold and still and the sky was that wonderful blue that seems to go up, up, up, and the sun seemed very bright and very far away in the heavens. The snow sparkled with blinding brilliance and everybody was filled with excitement.
But Flip sat in the train on the way up to Gstaad and she felt as cold and white as the snow and not in the least sparkling. Paul left Georges Laurens with Mlle. Dragonet and Signorina del Rossi and came and sat next to Flip. Erna and Jackie and the others greeted him with pleased excitement. Flip heard Sally whispering to Esmée, "Didn't I tell you he was divine?"
"So you taught Flip to ski!" Solvei exclaimed.
"I didn't have to do much teaching," Paul said. "She's a born skier."
Esmée got up from her seat and stood by them, attracted to the male presence like the proverbial fly to honey. "I'mjust dying to see Flip ski," she said, smiling provocatively at Paul. "You were just wonderful to teach her."
"Esmée, sit down," Miss Armstrong called from the end of the car, and Esmée reluctantly withdrew.
Flip stared out the window with a set face. Her cheeks felt burning hot and her hands felt icy cold and she had a dull pain in her stomach. I'm sick, she thought. I feel awful. I should have gone to Mlle. Duvoisine and she'd have taken my temperature and put me in the infirmary and I wouldn't have had to be in the ski meet.
But she realized that the horrible feeling wasn't because she was ill, but because she was frightened. She was even more frightened than she had been the night she went to meet the man who said he was Paul's father at the chateau.
She was hardly aware when Paul left her to join the spectators, or when Erna pushed her in place to wait until the beginners had finished. Flip watched the beginners carefully and took heart. She was much more steady on her skis, they were much more a part of her, than they were on any of the girls in the beginners group; and she knew that she executed her turns with far more precision and surety than any of them. She looked at the beginners and she looked at the judges, Fräulein Hauser, and Miss Redford who had turned out to be quite an expert skier, from the school; a jolly looking English woman who was sports mistress at the English school down the mountain; and two professional skiers who sat smiling tolerantly at the efforts of the beginners.
After the beginners had been tested for form they had a short race which was won by little Lischen Bechman, one of the smallest girls in the school and then Flip felt Erna pushing her forward. She stood in line with all the rest ofthe intermediates, between Erna and Maggie Campbell. One of the professional skiers stood up to give the directions. Flip snapped on her skis and pushed off with the others. She followed directions in a haze and was immeasurably grateful for the hours of practice which made her execute her christianas and telemarks with automatic perfection. The judge told half the girls to drop out, but Flip was among those left standing as the judge put them through their paces again.
Now all but five of the girls were sent to the side, Flip, Erna, Esmée Bodet, Maggie Campbell, and Bianca Colantuono. Flip's mouth felt very dry and the tip of her tongue stuck out between her teeth. This time the judge only kept them a few minutes.
Jumping was next and only a few of the intermediates had entered that. Girls clustered around Flip, exclaiming, laughing,
"Why, Flip, you old fox, you!"
"Why did you keep this up your sleeve, Pill?"
"Did Hauserreallyrefuse to teach you?"
And Kaatje van Leyden came over from the seniors and shook her hand saying, "Good work, Philippa. You really knew what you were talking about, didn't you? The Odds don't have to worry aboutyourbeing on their team."
Flip blushed with pleasure and looked down at the snow under her feet and she loved it so and was filled with such excitement and triumph that she wanted to get down on her knees and kiss it; but instead she watched the jumpers. She felt that Erna was by far the best and was pleased with the thought that she would win.
Then it was time for the Short Race. Flip stood poised at the top of the hill and launched herself forward at the signal.She tried to cut through the cold air with the swift precision of an arrow and was pleased when she came in fifth, because Madame had told her not to worry about the Short Race, to enter it only for experience, because she would do best in the Long Race.
While the seniors lined up for form, Flip and the other intermediates who had signed up for the Long Race got on the funicular to go up to the starting point further up the mountain. Madame Perceval had taken Flip over the course of the race several times during the holidays so she was almost as familiar with it as the other girls who had been skiing it once a week with Fräulein Hauser.
They were all tense as they lined up at the starting point. Kaatje van Leyden gave the signal and they were off. Flip felt a sense of wild exhilaration as she started down the mountain, and she knew that nothing else was like this. Flying in a plane could not give you this feeling of being the bird, of belief in your own personal wings.
Before the race was half over it became evident that it was to be between Flip, Erna, and Esmée. Flip's mind seemed to be cut cleanly in half; one half was filled with pure pleasure at the skiing and the other with a set determination to win this race. The three of them kept very close together, first one, then another, taking the advantage. Then, as they had to go through a clump of trees, Erna took the lead and pushed ahead with Flip next and Esmée dropping well behind.
Flip made a desperate effort and had just spurted ahead of Erna when she heard a cry, and, looking back, she saw Erna lying in the snow. She checked her speed, turned, and went back. As Erna saw her coming she called out, "Go on, Flip! Go on! Don't worry about me!"
But she ended on a groan and Flip continued back up the mountainside. Esmée flashed by without even looking at Erna; and Flip, as she slowly made her way up the snow, thought, I've lost the race.
But she knelt by Erna and said, "What happened?"
"Caught the tip of my ski on a piece of ice," Erna gasped. Her face was very white and her lips were blue with pain and cold. "You shouldn't have come back."
"Don't be silly," Flip said, and her voice sounded angry. "Is it your ankle?"
"Yes. I think I've busted it or something."
Flip unsnapped Erna's skis and took them off. Then she unlaced the boot of the injured ankle and gently pulled it off. "I don't think it's broken. I think it's a bad sprain."
"What's up?" Kaatje van Leyden who had been skiing down the mountain side with them drew up beside them.
"Erna's hurt her ankle," Flip said. "I think it's sprained."
Now more of the racers came in sight, but Kaatje waved them on. "Esmée's won but we might as well see who comes in second and third."
"Flip lost the race because of me," Erna told Kaatje. "She was way ahead of Esmée but when I fell she turned around and came back to me."
"And Esmée went on?" Kaatje asked. "Well, it's a good thing you came back and got Erna's boot off, Philippa, or we'd have had an awful time. Her foot's swelling like anything. Hurt badly, Erna?"
Erna, her teeth clenched, nodded.
"Philippa, if we make a chair with our hands do you think we can ski down together with Erna? It will be quite a jobnot to jolt her, but I think we'd better get her down to Duvoisine as soon as possible. How about it?" Kaatje asked.
"O.K.," Flip said.
Jackie, trailing gallantly down at the tail of the race, stopped in dismay at the sight of Erna lying on the ground, and helped her up onto Flip's and Kaatje's hands. Then they started slowly down the mountain. This was the most difficult skiing Flip had ever done, because she did not have her arms to help her balance herself and she and Kaatje had to ski as though they were one, making their turns and swerves in complete unison in order not to jolt Erna who was trying bravely not to cry out in pain. Jackie had skied on ahead and Mlle. Duvoisine was waiting for them with the doctor, and Erna was borne off to the chalet to be administered to. Flip looked almost as limp and white as Erna as she went to join the other intermediates who were eating sandwiches while they waited for the senior events to be finished.
So now it was all over. She thought she had done well in Form, but she had lost both races. She felt too tired, and too depressed now that her part in the long-waited-for meet was over, to be elated simply because she had skied well.
Just as Kaatje van Leyden came swooping down to win the seniors' Long Race, Jackie said, "Here's Erna," and Mlle. Duvoisine was pushing Erna, sitting on one chair, her bandaged foot in a green ski sock with a large hole in the toe, on another, across the snow to them. They all clustered about her.
"How are you, Erna?"
"Is it broken?"
"Does it hurt?"
"I'm fine," Erna told them as Mlle. Duvoisine left her withthem. "It's just a sprain. It hurts like blazes and I have to go to the infirmary when we get back to school but Duvoisine says I can stay for the prizes. Kaatje's up talking to the judges. They must be ready to begin. Give me a sandwich, somebody, quick."
Fräulein Hauser stood up in the judges' box and blew her whistle. On the table in front of her was a box with medals and the silver cup. Everybody stopped talking and waited.
"I want to say that I am proud of the way you all skied today," Fräulein Hauser told them. "I think that you put on a splendid and professional showing. And now I have a pleasant surprise for all of you. An old friend has consented to give out the awards, someone I know you will all be delighted to see. Suppose I let her speak for herself."
A cheer of welcome came from the girls as Madame Perceval detached herself from the spectators, walked across the snow, and climbed the steps to the judges' box.
"Percy!"
"Madame Perceval!"
"But I didn'tseeher!"
"Percy! How super!"
Everyone was whispering in low and excited whispers. Then Madame Perceval held up her hand and there was silence. For the first few minutes Flip was so surprised that she did not hear a word Madame Perceval said, though she was vaguely aware of the girls laughing and applauding. Then she tried to listen.
"And now for the awards," Madame Perceval was saying. "I won't delay that exciting information a moment longer. I'm afraid my train was late so I didn't see any of the beginners' events, but I hear from all the judges that none of you can becalled beginners any more and the three of you who have won medals have every right to be proud of yourselves."
I won't win anything, Flip thought as Madame Perceval gave out the medals, and Paul will be disappointed and Madame will think I didn't work....
"The judges feel unable to award a medal for Form to the intermediates as there was nothing to choose between Margaret Campbell, Philippa Hunter, and Erna Weber. But each of these girls will be given a Certificate of Merit. The medal for Intermediate Jumping goes to Erna Weber, who is at the moment a fallen hero on the field of battle. Erna, will you send someone up for your medal, please?"
Erna gave Jackie a shove.
"The medal for the Short Race goes to Esmée Bodet, with certificates to Margaret Campbell, second, and Bianca Colantuono, third. Esmée Bodet seems to be the speed demon of the intermediates; the medal for the Long Race goes to her, too...."
Now Flip began to look around the spectators, and then suddenly she saw her father standing between Paul and Monsieur Laurens and her heart gave a leap of joy. Hedidget here! she thought happily. Hedidcome even if I didn't win!
"Hey, Flip," Erna gave her a poke. "Percy's giving out the cup. Listen."
Again Flip had missed half of Madame's words, but she turned away from her father and looked up at the speaker's platform.
"This cup stands for more than just excellence in skiing, or marked improvement," Madame Perceval was saying, "and I am happy that the judges were unanimous in their decision as to the girl who deserves it. I don't think there's any questionin anybody's mind that this girl's improvement in skiing has been almost spectacular. But I think that you would all like to know that she lost a very good chance to win the Long Race by turning back to help a friend who had hurt herself, and then helped Kaatje van Leyden carry her down the mountain, a very difficult piece of skiing. The judges, especially those of us from the school who have watched her all winter, feel that she has tried harder, and accomplished more than any other girl in school." Madame Perceval paused for a moment; then she said, "It gives me great pleasure to award this cup to Philippa Hunter."
Erna and Jackie pushed her forward and all her long-legged clumsiness returned to her as she crossed the blazing expanse of snow between the girls and the judges' box. She tripped over a boot lace, fell to her knees, and got up, grinning, as everybody laughed and clapped. When Madame Perceval handed her the cup and stood there smiling down at her the storm of applause was so deafening that she knew they were glad she had won this most desired of all the awards, and that the applause was an honor as great as the cup itself. All the judges shook hands with her, and Fräulein Hauser said, rather awkwardly, "I seem to have made a big mistake, Philippa. I'm very glad."
Then the girls came clustering about her, shouting, "Well done, Flip! Good old Pill! Good for you, Philippa!" And she was laughing and blushing and stammering until she was swept off her feet and her father's arms were about her and he was exclaiming, "I'm proud of my girl!"
"Oh, father!" she cried. "Youdidcome!"
"I managed to get away at the last minute," he told her. "So Colette—Madame Perceval—and I came over together."
Then Flip felt herself caught in someone else's arms and Madame Perceval kissed her on both cheeks. "I knew you'd make us proud of you, my darling," she cried.
"Oh, Madame!" Flip said, and all she seemed to be able to say was "Oh."
14
Shesat that night in front of the fire in the lodge, leaning back, her head against her father's knee, and watched the flames roar up the chimney, and a deep feeling of content like the warmth from the fire filled her whole body. Paul sat sprawled beside her, pulling patient Ariel's ear, and Colette Perceval sat on the sofa next to Philip Hunter. Monsieur Laurens had retreated into his study after dinner.
"I'm so happy," Flip said, "that I haven't room for one drop more. One drop more and I'll burst." She leaned back against him. Her body felt heavy and tired and comfortable and her stomach was full of Thérèse's onion soup and her heart was so full of happiness that she could feel it swelling inside her.
"Remember how you were going to be the prisoner of Chillon, Flippet?" her father asked.
"I remember," she said, and smiled because she felt so full of freedom, and she knew that the freedom was in herself, just as the prison had been. She stood up and said, "I'll be back in a minute," because the happiness in her chest had grown so big that she knew she had to go outside and let some of it escape into the night or she really would burst with it.
She pulled her coat off the peg in the hall and pushed intoit as she opened the door and slipped outside. She looked down the mountain to the lake, and across the lake to the mountains, and above the mountains to the stars. The night was all about her, wild and cold and beautiful, and she let her happiness spread out into it, so that it became part of the night, part of the lake and the mountains and the stars.
Then she turned and Paul was standing in the doorway.
"I thought we ought to leave them alone," he said, glancing back at Flip's father and his Aunt Colette who were talking earnestly together.
"Paul, do you really think—" she asked.
He nodded. "Looks like it to me. Lets go for a walk, Flip."
He held out his hand and she took it. "Yes, Paul."
"Let's walk over to the Chateau," he suggested. "Its—it's sort of our place."
As they walked along together quietly hand in hand, the bells in all the nearby churches began to ring, calling and answering each other, and it seemed as though the clear night air was ringing.
Suddenly Paul cried out, and he sounded as happy as Flip felt. "Spring is going to be wonderful, Flip!"