Nick had been angry enough at the half-pipe that he’d probably hang up on me when I called. Or worse, he’d be very polite, like he was at school to people he didn’t know.

But his well-being was more important than my pride. I’d just entered his number from the school handbook into my cell phone. All I had to do was press the green button and the call would go through.

Good: I would find out whether Nick was okay.

Bad: Nick would view me as one of those girls at school who chased him, even after they’d gone on two dates and he’d called it quits.

Nick’s number waited impatiently on the screen, tapping its foot. I could press the red button to cancel the call. Without pressing anything, I set the phone down on my bedside table, crossed my arms, and glared at it.

Good: Nick wouldn’t think I was chasing him.

Bad: Nick would die alone in his house from complications related to his stupendous wipeout. The guilt of knowing I could have saved his life if not for my outsized ego would be too much for me to bear. I would retreat from public life. I would join a nearby convent and knit potholders from strands of my own hair. No, I would crochet Christmas ornaments in the shape of delicate snowflakes. Red snowflakes! They would be sold in the souvenir shops around town. I would support a whole orphanage from the proceeds of snowflakes I crocheted from my hair. All the townspeople of Snowfall would tell tourists the story of Crazy Sister Hayden and the tragedy of her lost love.

Or I could call Nick. Jesus! I snatched up the phone and pressed the green button.

His phone switched straight to voice mail. Great, I hadn’t found out whether he was dying, and if he recovered later, he would see my number on his phone and roll his eyes.

Damage control: Beeeeep! “Hey, Nick, it’s Hayden. Just, ah, wanted to know how a crash like that feels.” Wait, I was trying to get him to call me back, right? He would not return my call after a message like that. “Actually, just wondering whether you’re ready to make out again and then have another argument.” He might not return that call, either. “Actually, I remembered your mother isn’t home, and I wanted to make sure you’re okay. Please give me a call back.”

Pressed red button. Set phone on nightstand. Folded arms. Glared at phone. Picked it up. “Freaking stupid young love!” I hollered, slamming it into the pillows on my bed. Doofus jumped up, startled.

Ah-ha.

I slipped into long underwear, layered on the BOY TOY jeans and shirts and sweaters and coats and hats, and waddled stiffly downstairs to find Doofus’s leash. By now Josh and Mom were video-bowling. I hoped they were so absorbed that I could escape from the house just by calling a good-bye into the den as I passed the doorway.

But no. “Hayden,” Mom called. “Where are you going all bundled up?”

“I’m taking Doofus for a walk,” I said brightly.

“I already took Doofus for a walk,” Josh said.

I stared at him. He stared right back at me while Mom took her turn bowling. I could have explained that I wanted to walk by myself and get some air. But it would be pretty unusual—one might even go so far as to say unheard-of—for me to take a hike on a winter night when I was exhausted from boarding all day.

I could also come right out and tell both of them that Nick had fallen on the slopes today and I wanted to check on him. But then Mom would suggest I take the car to his house. And then I could never pull off the façade that I just happened by his mansion while walking my dog.

Besides, it was the principle of the thing—the very idea that Josh saw I wanted to walk Doofus and he was going out of his way to foil me, like a normal little brother. This made me angry. Did he want Nick to die on the floor of his bathroom from an overdose of mentholated rub? Did he want me to spend the last eighty years of my lifespan in a convent? Maybe he was mad that I was trying to sneak out of the house wearing his jeans for the third day in a row.

“I am taking Doofus for another walk,” I said clearly, daring him to defy me.

“That would not be good for Doofus.” He folded his arms. “Mom, that would not be good for Doofus.”

Oh! Dragging Mom into this was low. Not to mention Doofus. “Since when is going for a walk not good for a dog?” I challenged Josh.

“He’s an old dog!” Josh protested.

“He’s four!” I pointed out.

“That’s twenty-eight in dog years! He’s practically thirty!”

“Strike!” Mom squealed amid the noise of electronic pins falling. Then she shook her game remote at both of us in turn. “I’m not stupid, you know. And I’m not as out of it as you assume. I know the two of you are really arguing about something else. It’s those jeans again, isn’t it?” She nodded to me. “I should cut them in half and give each of you a leg. Why does either of you want to wear jeans with ‘BOY TOY’ written across the seat anyway?”

“I thought that was the fashion,” Josh said. “Grandma wears a pair of sweatpants with ‘HOT MAMA’ written across the ass.”

“That is different,” Mom hissed. “She wears them around the kitchen.”

I inhaled indignantly through my nose. “I said,” I announced haughtily, “I am going for a walk with my dog. My beloved canine and I are taking a turn around our fair community. No activity could be more wholesome for a young girl and her pet. And if you have a problem with that, well! What is this world coming to? Come along, dear Doofus.” I stuck my nose in the air and stalked past them, but the effect was lost. Somewhere around “our fair community,” Mom and Josh both had lost interest and turned back to the TV.

Or so I thought. But just as I was about to step outside, Josh appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and the mud room. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.

I said self-righteously, “I am taking my loyal canine for a w—”

“You’re going to Nick’s, aren’t you?” he whispered. “Do you think that’s a good idea? I heard you yelled at him for no reason at the half-pipe, right before he busted ass.”

I swallowed. Good news traveled fast. “So?”

“So, why are you going over there? Best case scenario, you make out with him again and then have another fight.”

Good news about everything traveled fast. I scowled at Josh. “It’s better than not knowing whether he’s hurt.”

“Is it?” Josh leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms. He’d never looked so much like my father, and it was time to put him in his place.

“Way better, and someday you will be old enough to understand.” I reached forward to pat him on the head. He dodged my hand and came after me across the mud room, bent on revenge. Doofus and I escaped out the door and ran all the way across the snowy yard. I wouldn’t have put it past Josh to chase me outside in his socks, but behind me the mud room had turned dark.

Doofus and I headed toward town. The sidewalk was icy as always but not nearly as slippery, now that I wore good walking boots rather than snowboarding boots. And the night was gorgeous, deep purple all around with the lights of downtown glowing from the valley, and a sky full of stars. We skirted the touristy area, with its streets full of happy families and laughing couples in love, and headed up the mountain.

Nick’s street was close to the center of town, but I couldn’t recall ever driving up it in my mom’s car. It allowed access to only ten mansions overlooking the slopes, the homes of nobody I knew except Nick. And somehow I had always resisted driving very slowly back and forth in front of his house. Willpower? No. I figured his front gate was equipped with security cameras and I would just be embarrassing myself. And this street was definitely not on the bus line.

Doofus and I hiked up the sidewalk. Since there was no one around, I dropped Doofus’s leash. He pranced in the snowdrifts and bit the snow and rolled in it until ice clumped and froze in his tail. He promptly trotted back to me, wagging his tail, and whacked me with the ice.

“Ouch! Sweet doggie.” We’d passed two mansions and had reached Nick’s. It was big and beautiful and distant amid the snow falling gently in the night. Through the cold landscape, warm light glowed from a second-story window. If he’d died alone in his big, empty house, at least he hadn’t died in the cold dark.

I couldn’t leave without knowing. With a sigh, I pressed the button on the imposing gate. Doofus and I both jumped at the buzz. I backed up to give the gate room in case it opened out.

It stayed shut.

After a few moments, I pressed the button again. The gate didn’t move, and the lights of the house stared at me across the snowy plain.

“Fine. Come on, Doofus.” I led the way back down the hill to the narrow passage between the Kriegers’ fence and the fence next door. Mistake: The unshoveled snow was knee-deep. I kept right on wading through it. “This is because I’m a good person,” I assured Doofus. “I am going to heaven, though hopefully not by way of the convent.” Doofus pranced happily around me.

Finally I reached the back corner of Nick’s enormous yard, where even the passage between the Kriegers’ fence and their neighbors’ was shut off from the ski slopes by another, higher fence. “Okay, this isn’t good. I’m sorry, Doofus, but I have to leave you out here while I go save the day. I’ll only be a minute.” I looked around for a tree to tie Doofus’s leash to, one that he would not pull out by its roots.

Something moved swiftly in the corner of my eye. Mountain lion! I gasped and whirled around.

It was only Doofus, climbing Nick’s fence. He’d leapt to the top and hooked his front paws over the wood. Now his back legs scrabbled against the smooth planks, searching for a claw-hold to push him over.

“Bad dog,” I sighed. He’d disappeared.

Well, if I’d had any thoughts of chickening out on my mission, they were gone now. I jumped to the top of the fence, hauled myself over, and dropped to the snowy ground.

And froze with horror. The mountain lion was here in the fenced yard with us where we couldn’t escape. Growling at us. Except for the square rectangular glow of a glass door on the deck, I saw nothing but blackness. But I heard the growl, too close.

“Doofus!” I screamed, needlessly. He barreled toward me and hit me in the chest, yelping. I’m not sure whether I dragged him or he dragged me, but somehow we dashed up the wooden steps to the snow-covered deck and headed straight for the door. I didn’t even have time to pray it was unlocked. The sharp claws of the mountain lion nicked my calves above my boots, through my long underwear and jeans. I yanked open the door and picked Doofus up bodily. We collapsed inside in a mound of Polartec and fur and backed against the door until it clicked closed.

We both started away from the door as the mountain lion leaped against it, howling, all fangs and claws and wild eyes.

Very small wild eyes. Four of them.

It wasn’t a mountain lion at all. It was two tabbies.

There were a few seconds of stillness, just Doofus and me panting in the large, quiet room, and bemusement that I had exploded with my wet dog into a filthy-rich family’s grand home. We faced a huge rock fireplace that I recognized from the Krieger Meats and Meat Products TV commercial so many years ago, with Nick giving the camera his winning smile, his mother blinking pleasantly into the camera, and Mr. Krieger inviting the public to taste Krieger Meats, from their family to yours. Happier times for Nick and his parents.

Feeling a pang for all of them, I gave Doofus’s wet, cold fur a stroke. I wasn’t sure what to do now. I still needed to find out whether Nick was okay. And there were still attack cats on the prowl.

I was about to detangle myself from Doofus and survey the damage we’d done to Nick’s palace when I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. Someone was lying on a leather couch facing away from me. A blond head eased ominously into view. Nick’s father! Oh, no! He would take me for a stalker. Now Nick would really think I was chasing him!

Or not. Mr. Krieger took out one earbud. He cackled in a high-pitched witch voice, “I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog Toto, too!”

“Uh, Doofus,” I corrected him.

He pursed his lips quizzically. “Come on. It wasn’t that bad a joke.”

I didn’t bother to explain. I wouldn’t need to get along with Mr. Krieger in the future. Something told me I would never find myself eating Thanksgiving dinner with these people—and wait until the owner of Krieger Meats and Meat Products found out I was a vegetarian! I just wanted to satisfy myself that Nick was okay, and then get out. “Hi, there!” I beamed. “Did you order a redhead and a dog?”

“Hayden O’Malley,” he purred.

“Yes, sir.” He knew who I was? Doofus was licking my face.

Mr. Krieger pulled out his other earbud. “I know all about your challenge with Nick. My money’s on you, literally. Nick’s a quitter.”

I blinked at him, not sure what to say to that. I’d never heard a parent say something so mean about his child—and something so untrue. I reminded myself that his wife had left him the previous weekend, and he was probably not in the best of moods. If Nick had hidden his injury from his dad and hadn’t yet told him the challenge was over, I didn’t want to be the one to clue his dad in and mess things up worse for Nick. I said carefully, “Yeah, the girls at school are always pushing him down on the playground and telling him not to be such a baby.”

Mr. Krieger sat up straighter on the couch and glared at me. Great. I was definitely not getting invited for Thanksgiving now. At least I’d made my point, and I thought he’d heard me.