Snowboarding Surprise, page 1
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Chapter 1: Off Balance
Chapter 2: Bad News First
Chapter 3: Thanks, But No Thanks
Chapter 4: Slalom Slopes
Chapter 5: Gym Jitters
Chapter 6: Stick It!
Chapter 7: Back on the Board
Chapter 8: At Home on the Powder
Author Bio
Illustrator Bio
Glossary
Discussion Questions
Writing Prompts
More About Snowboarding
Explore More
Copyright
Back Cover
Cover
Title Page
Table of Contents
Start of Content
Cover
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Back Cover
CHAPTER 1
OFF BALANCE
Samira poised herself on the balance beam. Looking down the beam like this always reminded her of looking down a runway. She was the plane, about to take off. All around her, the gym echoed with the thumps, grunts, and staccato shouts of her team practicing.
Samira inhaled the chalky, rubber-scented air and dipped her hands forward for a handstand. She lifted her legs delicately, one by one, just like Coach Hosseni had taught her. “As if you’re holding a glass between your feet,” she always said.
Samira lowered to a backbend and then flipped to a double round-off. This would be the beginning of her new beam routine. Then she would move into a back walkover, a straight-leg leap, and dismount. She’d perform it for the first time at the Midwest Regionals next month.
Samira stretched her legs back behind her head, feeling the pull in her abdominal muscles. The hard surface of the beam met her feet, and she flipped upward and swung her legs back up over her head for the round-off.
But the beam wasn’t there. Her body swung awkwardly to the left. She could tell immediately the move was off. The next thing she knew, she awkwardly slid off the beam and onto the mat.
“At least you fell gracefully,” Samira’s best friend Penelope said, running over from the vault.
Samira sighed, staring down at the blue vinyl mat. “It’s this that’s the problem.” She grabbed her thighs. “Messing with my balance.”
Penelope nodded solemnly. “Legs. Definitely a problem. Very hard to balance with legs. But harder to balance without legs.”
Samira smiled but only a little. “You know what I mean. If I was built more like that, I wouldn’t overcorrect like I just did.” She gestured at Elise Klein who was short and wiry.
“Yeah, but if you were, you wouldn’t rock the vault like you do.” Penelope hauled Samira to her feet. “She doesn’t have that powerful run you have.”
“That’s right, Penelope,” Coach Hosseni said, coming over to them. “There’s nothing wrong with your body, Samira. Everyone has their own shape and talents.”
The coach gestured to herself. “Take me, for example,” she said. “My sister and I were both gymnasts. She was short and wiry. I was taller and thicker. I had to work harder than my sister to do the same moves. But I really wanted it, so I didn’t give up. My sophomore year, I won the state Junior All-Around. I did it, and you can too.” Coach gave both girls a warm smile. “Now, I see that Jade is about to do her vault approach, so let me help her and you girls keep working.”
“Well, I’m not giving up either,” Samira told Penelope. “So my body had better figure it out!”
“It will. You will,” Penelope reassured her. “I know you can.”
Samira gave her friend a hug. “Thanks. What would I do without you?” She mounted the beam again and kept practicing.
Handstand. Backbend. Then the flip to a round-off. Samira gave an extra hard push through her arms as she squeezed the beam with her hands. It was too hard of a push. Her legs lifted, she felt that instant of weightlessness, but even before her feet smacked the beam squarely and perfectly, she felt a bolt of pain slam through her shoulder. Samira attempted to lift her arms, but the pain was too much. Gasping, she dropped from the beam.
“That was perfect! Wait—what’s wrong?” Penelope asked.
Samira cradled her arm. “Oh shoot! Oh no! My shoulder.”
Coach Hosseni jogged across the mats. With calm, practiced fingers, she rotated Samira’s shoulder. When Samira cried out with pain again, Coach helped her to the bench.
“I’ll call your parents,” Coach said. “We need to get that looked at as soon as possible.”
She left to get her phone, and Samira and Penelope stared at each other glumly. They knew as well as anyone what Coach wasn’t saying. There weren’t going to be any regionals for Samira—not now.
CHAPTER 2
BAD NEWS FIRST
“Well, I have got good news and bad news,” Dr. Floyd said as she came into the exam room.
“Let’s have the good news first,” Samira’s dad said.
“Can I have the bad news first, actually?” Samira asked. She cradled her arm across her chest in a black cloth sling.
“Sure,” Dr. Floyd said. She sat down on a small, wheeled stool and opened a manila folder. “The bad news is you’ve got a rotator cuff tear. You’ll need to rest it for six weeks, then start rehab.”
“So I can go back to the gym after six weeks?” Samira asked. That wouldn’t be too bad. She could do that.
Dr. Floyd looked up with a grimace on her face. Samira’s dad reached over and took her hand. “No. Sorry, I should have been clearer. You can’t do any gymnastics for at least six months. Your shoulder just can’t handle the weight and the twisting and stretching.”
“Oh,” Samira whispered. It was hard to talk around the lump in her throat. “So … what’s the good news?”
Dr. Floyd shut the folder with a snap and stood up. “The good news is that you can return to gymnastics eventually.”
She said it brightly. “This injury won’t end your gymnastics career, Samira.”
Samira tried not to scowl.
Her dad cleared his throat. “Thank you, Dr. Floyd. We’ll be in touch for the physical therapy details.”
Samira managed to wait until they were out in the car before she let the tears come.
After a big hug, her dad said, “You know, you can still work out. You just can’t put any strain on your shoulder.”
“No beam,” Samira sobbed. “No uneven bars. Definitely no vault.”
“You can work on jumps and parts of the floor routine.” Her dad pulled into the driveway and looked over at her. “Come on, honey. Let’s make this work.”
“I don’t want to make it work!” Samira yelled and ran into the house.
She pounded up the stairs to her room. Samira knew she was acting like a baby, but in that moment she didn’t care. She’d be brave later. Right now, she just wanted to cry.
Samira gingerly leaned over the mat laid out on the floor of the garage. Six months had passed, and Dr. Floyd had given her the green-light to start training again.
“Come on, try it!” Penelope sat cross-legged on top of an old dresser in the corner. Samira reached for a cartwheel and again, she felt the ache in her shoulder. Something was wrong. Something was off. Every time she put that twisting pressure on her shoulder, it felt like her muscles were turning to jelly. Her dad had even dragged her back to Dr. Floyd, but the doctor said the shoulder looked perfectly sound. “Sometimes joints are never quite the same as they once were,” she said.
Samira wanted to punch the wall. Instead, she forced herself through the cartwheel. But at the top, she just couldn’t hold it. That familiar weightless, flipping feeling was gone.
She wobbled, then stumbled down to the mat. “Pen, what’s wrong with me?” she moaned. “My shoulder just doesn’t feel the same. Everything feels off. Now it’s not just my legs. Nothing works!”
“Your brain still works.” Penelope hopped off the dresser and crawled across the mat to lay beside Samira. Together they stared at the ceiling. “Practice starts next week,” Penelope said.
“Don’t remind me.” Samira sighed and crossed her hands on her chest. “I don’t kno
“Nooo! You can’t leave me! I can’t get through pull-ups without you!” Penelope cried, half-jokingly.
Samira snorted laughter, but tears were building at the corners of her eyes. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
CHAPTER 3
THANKS, BUT NO THANKS
Samira could tell something was up as soon as her parents came into her room that night. “What?” she asked, warily putting down her gymnastics scrapbook.
Mom’s face held some secret surprise. “Well honey, Dad and I know how disappointed you are with your shoulder rehab. So we decided we all need a break—a fun break.”
“We’re going … snowboarding!” Dad whipped a piece of paper out from behind his back.
Gingerly, Samira took it. “Big Bear Family Snowboard Clinic” screamed the letters across the top.
“Ugh,” she said, putting down the paper. “I mean, thanks. But –”
“And we’re booked for next week!” Mom broke in. She leaned forward and kissed Samira on the forehead. “Trust us, sweetie. This is going to be fantastic.”
Samira mom’s smile was so big it lit up the room. Her dad’s hazel eyes twinkled behind his glasses. Samira wasn’t sold on this snowboarding vacation idea, but it was really nice of them. And maybe some time away from gymnastics was just what she needed.
Three days later, Samira found herself staring down a long ski slope, a snowboard strapped to her feet, a helmet on her head, and an instructor named Porter beside her. The pine-scented breeze slapped her cheeks, and the sun turned the snow into a blanket of glitter. The chalky air of the gym seemed a million miles away.
“All right, Samantha, remember that your board is your friend,” Porter said, adjusting his own goggles.
“It’s Samira,’” she corrected him through gritted teeth. “And I don’t want to be here.”
“Samira,” he said agreeably. “Sorry. My bad. So here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll just coast down together, okay? To get started, bend your knees, hold your arms out to the side, and tip your board a little bit down.”
At least she knew how to do that. Balance. She could still balance. Porter watched as she leaned forward. “Nice!” he shouted as she started to move. He followed, catching up until they were side-by-side. “Beginners usually don’t catch on so fast,” he called.
“I’m a gymnast,” she called back. “Balance is kind of my thing.” She kept her eyes up and her core tight.
“Now try leaning to the right to turn a little right and left to turn a little left,” Porter instructed as they slid past a stand of pine trees. “Your board will turn the way your body turns. Pressure on your board from your toes will turn your board toeside. Pressure from your heels will turn you heelside.”
Samira tried and her board responded. The snow flew up in little sprays on either side. They were gathering speed, but she didn’t feel afraid. She felt good.
“You’re doing great!” Porter said as they coasted to a stop. “Want to try a little jump?”
“Yeah!” she said. And all of a sudden, she realized she meant it. She was surprised to be having this much fun.
“Okay. Unclip and follow me.”
Samira leaned down and fumbled with the clips holding her boots to her board. She finally released them and tucked her board under her arm to follow Porter to another run nearby.
“Clip back in and listen up,” Porter said. “The most important thing to remember with jumps is you have to commit. Once you’re on the slope, you can’t chicken out. That’s how people get hurt. You have to go for it.”
Just like gymnastics, Samira thought. Every gymnast knew that if you didn’t commit to a routine, you were guaranteed to mess up.
“You’re going to drop in—that means start to move forward—and glide down toward the jump. Aim for the middle, obviously,” Porter said. “Knees bent, back straight, eyes up, arms out a little. The jump’s going to shoot you into the air. Don’t fight it. Go for it. When you land, bend your knees a lot to absorb the impact. Then just keep gliding. Try not to stop yourself—that’s how people fall. They hit the brakes right after a jump.”
Samira shifted impatiently. “Okay, I’m ready,” she said. All this talking was making her even more eager to go.
“Go for it!” Porter said.
She tipped her board forward and dropped in. The board cut against the snow—shussshh!
“Lean forward to increase your speed! It’s coming up!” Porter called.
Samira leaned forward and the shushing noise of the board sped up. The wind blew back against her face. Feeling her body fluid, in motion again, felt like a homecoming. Her legs felt strong, her muscles engaged.
Ahead, the jump lay like a wide ledge across the slope. Commit, she thought and leaned forward, spreading her arms wider. As her board hit the upslope of the jump, she pulled her legs up under her instinctively.
Her body soared through the air. That feeling of weightlessness—it was like flying on the uneven bars. Bend your knees and stick the landing, she told herself, just as her board hit the slope. She rocked back a little, then got her balance as she coasted down the slope. Samira sheared to a stop beside Porter, who had glided down to meet her.
“Wow!” Samira gasped as she took off her helmet and shook back her damp hair.
“That’s what I was gonna say! You’re a natural,” Porter grinned. “Fun, right?”
“Yeah, fun,” she echoed. Her legs were shaking in that good way you always get after a hard workout. It seemed like the fog had cleared out of her brain for the first time since the accident. She took a deep breath, and the chilly air seemed to clear her lungs. She turned to Porter, who was bent over, undoing the clasps on his board.
“When can I go again?” she asked.
CHAPTER 4
SLALOM SLOPES
“Okay, get ready! Let’s shave some time off this slalom course!” Porter shouted two months later. Samira lowered her goggles and wiggled her board in the snow. If anyone had told her eight weeks ago that she would stop doing gymnastics and join the Big Bear Snowboard Junior Team instead, she would have laughed.
But here she was, and the race was the day after tomorrow. She looked down the slope, with its gates looming beneath her. “We can do this!” Samira’s teammate Norah shouted beside her. They’d be racing together, head-to-head. The rest of the team was milling around at the bottom after their own runs.
Samira worked her hands deeper into her gloves. The wind whipped her face, but nothing got through her ski jacket and heavy padded pants. Briefly, she thought of the tight leotard and hair bun of gymnastics and the way her head always ached after a day of competition with her hair yanked back.
Porter hit the buzzer and Samira dropped her board onto the slope. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Norah in her bright blue parka doing the same. She looked forward and could see nothing except the slope ahead, with the bright orange flags marking the gates.
Samira leaned into the first turn. Then she wove around another gate and then another. Her leg muscles pushed her up and over slopes, and then she glided down. A serpentine turn sent her up onto the banked side of the course, the snow spraying up beneath her board. Again, she soared back down the side of the bank, fast. Suddenly, she biffed, pinwheeling her arms until she felt herself steady—back on track. Gate, turn, gate, turn, then the final jump loomed. Norah, where was Norah? No time to look around, there wasn’t any blue parka ahead.
Samira slammed the final jump, keeping her body over the board and slightly rotating her arms the way Porter had taught her. “Yeah!” she heard their teammate Georgia yell. Then came that sliding feel of her board hitting the snow, the spray in her face, and the crunch as she slowed to a stop. Norah slid up beside her a few seconds later.
“Nice jumps, girls!” Harper said.
Panting, Samira and Norah pushed up their goggles. Norah leaned over with her hands on her knees. Samira leaned down and unclipped her boots, then stepped out of her board. She walked in a slow circle with her hands behind her head. Blood and adrenaline were pumping through her. The air felt crisp and clean in her lungs.
“Good clean run, ladies!” Porter coasted up beside them. “Everyone get back up to the top—let’s go again!” He turned to Samira. “You burned four seconds off your personal best. Excellent!”
