Thanks for the support, everybody! Peeyore luhhhve tew yew.

"Yo, pick it up!" Allegra called. She swerved past Viggo, who momentarily was able to pass by her again.

"Throw your cares to the wind, my friend." He winked smugly.

The always-inseparable pair of best friends crossed each other's paths on the Snow Jam course, down which they were racing alone (and at which Viggo was kicking Allegra's sorry butt, but he didn't rub it in). The night before had brought a fresh blanket of thick snow. Viggo and Allegra had pulled an all-nighter, watching movies with countless cans of soda, popcorn, raw cookie dough, jerky and various candy bars. That was how they had spent a lot of stormy nights in the past month: watching horror flicks and screwballs, playing video games and eating tons of crap. People called them lazy. People thought they were stupid kids. Maybe they were – stupid kids, lazy kids. Dumb kids. But best friends. They had started over; the past had been forgotten.

Or they pretended it had been forgotten.

"Ahh, here we go…" Viggo landed swiftly in the finish line area. "He twists, he lands… YEAH!" He jumped up and down in triumph. "Now THAT'S how it's done!"

His friend laughed. "Dude, you're worse than Griff," she responded to his gloating and sat down, unbuckling her boo ts from her board.

Viggo sat down on the sidelines as well and shook his head. "Nahh, that kid's never seen how they do it in Hemavan." He looked up at the sky and grinned. "Haven't been back home to Sweden in a couple years now." He'd been a nomad growing up, living at every major ski resort in the world, but still viewed Sweden as his home country.

"Viggo the Viking, is that what they call you there?" Allegra teased.

Viggo smiled. "That's a new one, I have to admit. Call me that from now on, wouldja?"

Allegra slugged his arm. "D-bag."

The two of them changed out of their gear and met in between the mens' and womens' locker rooms. They locked arms and headed back to their lodge. Allegra's stomach did a weird, sudden jerk at one point; that happened when she laughed too much. She looked down at herself, and her chest blocked her feet. That had never happened before. She caught Viggo looking, too. She ignored it and studied his body. "Your jacket's buttoned wrong," she said.

Viggo smirked. "You got me fat from all that junk you've been feeding me. I gained, like, ten pounds."

I've noticed, Allegra thought. She recognized the green jacket that no longer fit Viggo as the one he was wearing the first day they'd met.

Viggo Rolig was still the shaggy, blonde, goatee-sporting tall guy on the outside and the goofy, free-spirited womanizer on the inside, despite his cute little habit of being a drama queen. Complete with his signature headband, Allegra thought, making herself grin. Good ol' Viggo.

"I think you look good with a little extra….um, somethin'-somethin', V," she told him.

"Oh yeah?" Viggo snorted. "Tell me that once I win the Extreme Fatty Olympics."

"Oh, come on, the event organizers have wanted you to gain weight forever. And I didn't do it on purpose."

It was the first time Viggo had called attention to his slight weight gain. He had only once referenced Allegra's, actually saying she looked better curvier. Even Allegra didn't mind having breasts for the first time. No one else had said anything about the twenty pounds she'd gained in a month other than Viggo.

After all, other than most of the competitors, no one knew why.

Like a lot of days, a group of kids had formed a crowd outside of their lodge. They carried cameras and autograph books, wearing SSx t-shirts under their hoodies. They saw Viggo and Allegra and beamed, rushing up to them.

"Guys, look, it's Viggo and Allegra!"

"OH MY GOD. Viggo, you're SOOO hot!"

"You ROCK, Allegra! Can we have your autographs?"

Viggo groaned and took Allegra's hand, flashing the kids a bright (but fake) smile and pulling her into the lodge.

Then he shook his head. "If there's anything on this planet I hate, it's kids."

Allegra looked at him for a minute. "Yeah...fuck kids."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Miles north of where they were, a nasty argument had broken out. Hands on her hips, Zoe Payne glared, as she often did, at Psymon Stark, who lay sprawled out on his bed like a rabid possum. That was the position he assumed whenever Zoe came over to his apartment looking pissed. She would slam the door, close the blinds and yell at him, whipping open his drawers and throwing various pieces of flashy clothes at him.

Today she was especially pissed off.

"….what the fuck, Psymon?" she was saying, when Psymon finally decided to pay attention. "Do you have any idea how pissed they're gonna be?"

"Heh?" Psymon squealed, picking up a handheld mirror and primping out his hair. "Whatchu say to me, Zo-ee?"

Zoe took a red belt out from under his bed and smacked him with it – hard. He screamed girlishly, and the mirror dropped. It broke into tiny pieces on the black, reflective floor.

"Seven years of jinxiness." Psymon sighed, shaking his head. "Never had a chance."

"Psymon, I'm serious," Zoe demanded, "you're gonna tell me now why the hell you're so obsessed with Viggo."

"What's not to obsess over?" Psymon replied. "He's a fine, fine fellow to want to fuck up the ass."

"Psymon!" Zoe clenched her fists, frustrated with him. "The guy's a wimp! He freaks out by the drop of a fucking penny. You could break him in half if you wanted to, but why fucking bother?"

Psymon shrugged. "For –"

"If you say 'funsies', I'll beat the shit out of you," Zoe said, glaring again.

Psymon rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Well, I was gonna say for 'luscious, bloody vengeance for my brutal, starving pride'," he told her matter-of-factly, "but if you're gonna be that way –"

"What the hell did he ever do to you, anyway?" Zoe cried.

She knew him way too well. "Don't tell me this is about –"

"Youuuu betchya." Psymon clicked his tongue. "Piss off the wolf, you get the fangs."

Zoe hit on the head with one of his mini, black and green pillows, and he yelped in surprise. She sat down on his head and lowered her voice, addressing him in a serious tone.

"Look, Psy. If I were you, I'd be pissed about the race too. That fucktard must've been on drugs, I have no idea how he beat you. But now he's having a baby."

"Is he, really?" Psymon beamed. "Happy, happy news! I'll remember to give him a belly rub. Who's the daddy?"

"Psymon." Zoe narrowed her eyes. "Shut up. I told you Allegra was knocked up, remember? Well, it's his kid."

Psymon's smile twisted downward into a look of shock. He didn't actually remember hearing that Allegra was knocked up, and could have used that to his advantage before, but he was actually pretty happy that Zoe had reminded him at that particular moment…

"His kid, eh?" Psymon asked. His face was returning, in slow motion, to a devilish smile. "You sure about that, Zoe?"