“Yeah, that’s the worst kind of skiing,” Conor said. “You have to hold the phone to your ear while you’re going downhill. There’s the do-not-call list, and then there’s the do-not-fall list,” Conor added.

“Very funny,” I said. But I couldn’t stop myself from smiling, because it actually was.

“I’m going to go find the guys—we’re meeting over by the locker room. I’ll be right back with your costume,” Sean said. “Ian’s bringing it.”

After he jogged off, Conor and I stood there for a minute, looking around at all the other contestants—if that’s what you would call them. “Don’t you need to find your team?” I asked him.

“Oh, no. I’m not doing this,” he said.

“Why not?”

“Are you serious? I’m just here to laugh at everyone else.”

“Why? Is there going to be a lot to laugh about?” I asked.

“Yeah. I think so,” Conor said. “For example? Here come the seven idiots.”

Sean and his friends were walking toward us. Their costumes were simple, no-brainers: They wore hockey team jerseys, over jeans. Some of them wore ball caps. A few of them carried hockey sticks.

“Hey,” a few of them greeted Conor, and me. As they all gathered around me, all I can say is that one or more of their shirts definitely hadn’t been washed since the last game. Which I guess made it an authentic costume.

“Which one’s Dopey? That you?” Conor asked Sean.

“Ha ha,” Sean muttered. “Look, Conor, you’ve got to help us out.”

“Wait a second. I only count six hockey players,” I said.

“Exactly. That’s why you’ve gotta do it with us, Conor,” Sean said. He held out a jersey. “Tommy’s sick. You have to fill in for him.”

Conor stared at the jersey. “You want me to wear the sick guy’s jersey?”

“It’s not Tommy’s, it’s one of mine,” Ian said. “I brought an extra after he called to say he couldn’t make it.”

“Go change,” Sean said.

“Wait. Who said I was doing this?” Conor said as he caught the jersey Ian tossed to him.

Then Sean held out a sparkling tiara to me. “Here’s your crown.”

“Snow White wore a crown? Really?” I asked. I put it on top of my head and mashed it down so that it would stay there. “Okay, that was easy. I’m ready!”

“And…here’s your outfit.” Ian handed me a black garment bag.

“Oh.” I peeked at the dress inside. I nearly dropped it. The costume looked like it might fit someone half my height. I held it up against me. “You cannot be serious. This is going to be way too short on me!”

“Hey, maybe we’ll score more points with the judges.” Sean winked at me, and his friends laughed.

I don’t want to score more points with the judges, I thought. I really only want to score points with you.

Therefore, I’d wear the outfit.

“Be right back,” I told the guys. Unless of course I ditched this entire event and ran for the hills. There were lots of hills around. It wouldn’t be hard.

“You have to be kidding me. This whole thing makes no sense,” I muttered as I changed into the outfit in the women’s locker room. Fortunately there were a few private changing rooms so I didn’t have to try it on in front of everyone. “Since when did Snow White hang out with hockey players?”

This must be what’s known as “taking one for the team,” I thought as I examined the skimpy cocktail-waitress-type outfit. It must have been from some sexy costume shop. Or sex shop, rather.

There was a short black skirt—a mini—and a white blouse that cinched right below the bust line. I was a Vegas act waiting to happen. I slipped my pink, furry boots back on, to keep my legs warm. Then I put on some deep red lipstick I’d borrowed from Gretchen for the part, and fixed my hair with the tiara. Wasn’t Snow White a brunette? And I was pretty sure she didn’t parade her cleavage around town. But oh well. This was for Sean.

I put on my jacket and stepped slowly out of the locker room. A couple of girls gave me critical glances, and I winced. Why am I doing this? I wondered. No wonder that other girl dropped out. She probably saw the costume, then changed her mind.

When I finally met up with Sean, he was waiting anxiously for me. “Come on, they’re all waiting at the top. Our start time is in fifteen minutes,” he said.

He didn’t even bat an eyelash at the fact I was all legs. Did this not faze him? Or was I not impressive as a leggy fairy tale heroine?

On our way up the ski lift (and I don’t even want to think of the view from below), a team went by on its way down in a cardboard ship that said, “Pirates of Lake Minnetonka.” A guy who looked a lot like Captain Jack Sparrow was at the helm, while ghosts—some real, some made of sheets—bobbed behind him.

Couldn’t I have been on that mattress ship? I’d kill to be a ghost right now, I thought. No pun intended.

We got to the top of the hill, and I saw the mattress and its pseudo-platform that I was supposed to lie on. It looked like an old desk with a few sleeping bags piled on top of it. Whatever these guys ended up doing with the rest of their lives, you can bet it wouldn’t be construction or design. One of them handed me a clump of plastic flowers to hold.

When the M.C. introduced our group, the guys raised their hands over their heads, like victorious boxers, and everyone cheered.

“You have to take off your coat,” Sean told me as he bowed to the crowd.

“I think she should keep it on,” Conor argued.

“I’m with you,” I said to Conor. I wasn’t about to do any bowing, needless to say.

“Come on, Kirst. Let ’em see the costume, or it won’t count,” Sean urged.

“Okay, fine.” I kept my jacket on until the last second. Then I flung it over to the side, and stood there awkwardly grinning and waving at the crowd. Meanwhile, the rest of the team was standing there sort of gaping at me.

We all gathered on the mattress, me lying on the platform and the guys standing around me, sort of in surfing stances.

“Whose bright idea was it to put non-stick Pam on the bottom of the mattress again?” someone asked Sean as we began hurtling down the slick snow.

“Come on, this is fun!” Sean cried.

Needless to say, we lasted about halfway down the steep hill. Guys tumbled off, or dropped to their knees to stay on. We were setting some kind of land speed mattress record, that was for sure.

At the bottom, we crashed into the hay bales and everyone tumbled on top of me, especially Sean. It was almost just like when we rolled off the toboggan, except this time I had less clothes on. Funny things happened when we went down slopes together.

Conor was one of the first people to get up. He leaned down to help pull me to my feet. “Come on, get up, your fans await.”

A huge cheer went up from the crowd gathered to watch, as we untangled ourselves, all stood up, and stepped off the mattress.

“Skirt,” Conor said out of the corner of his mouth.

I reached back and realized that my skirt had flipped up in the back. I pulled it back into place and muttered, “Thanks.”

Then the guys surrounded me, and we all posed for pictures. I didn’t think we’d win any prizes for that performance, but at least we’d raised money for charity. Gretchen had kicked in fifty dollars when I told her about the event.

“Do you want to go get a hot chocolate or something?” I asked Sean as we moved out of the way, so the next team could come down the hill. And some clothes? For me? Please?

“Sure. But I want to go down the hill a few more times—maybe jump on someone else’s ride,” Sean said. “Don’t you?”

“Not without changing first,” I said. “Are you crazy?”

“Crazy about that costume,” Sean said. “Can I call you ‘Snow’ from now on?”

“I’m contemplating suing you,” I said through clenched teeth as we posed for yet another photograph. “These photos. You’re going to confiscate them, right?”

“Oh. Right. Sure.” From Sean’s reaction, I wasn’t sure if he knew what “confiscate” meant.