Little Jenna overpowered the skis with an act of sheer will power.
Stiff and half fearful, she leaned forward from the waist, knees stiff as curtain rods.
Each particle of snow was her foe, each mound and furrow a formidable opponent.
Powerful Jenna took the hill by storm, a mental storm,
that encompassed her two brothers waiting cynically at the slope's bottom.
She willed herself not to fall, not to have the slightest trace of trying on her snowsuit.
Timid Jenna took not one sliver of a moment to enjoy the ride, not for a second.
There was no room for error. The snow simply had to part before her feet.
Neither a reckless teen nor a misguided beginner could distract her.
Proud Jenna sat in the clubhouse dangling her feet from the picnic bench sipping her cola.
She said little. Only occasionally could you see the sparkle in her eyes
that meant that Jenna knew she had done a very fine thing, despite what the boys had said.
