My head was spinning. Absolutely spinning, and it wasn't just the glass of champagne. The last month, the last year even, had been a complete blur. From high school swim meets, to a generous college scholarship, to the Olympic trials, to the eight days I spent in the Athletes' Village, to the medal stand (three times), to the media circus back home, to this bathroom in the swankiest hotel in the capitol city of the state...

The Best Kind of Solace by Nicole Larson It was the most embarrassing time of my life. You see, I had sent this series of pictures to my then boyfriend Paul, who was away from school, visiting his family in California. If you know eighteen year old boys, then you can probably guess what kinds of pictures he wanted me to send him. And if you know eighteen year old girls who are terrified of losing their boyfriends and bein...

My sister Allison woke me with an unceremonious kick to my bed. “Wake up,” she said. “Dad and Mom went to the store and he told us to wash the truck and the car.” I rubbed my eyes, stretched and yawned. The alarm clock on my nightstand said that it was almost eight thirty. I groaned. My senior year in high school was still two months off; I hadn’t been up before nine since May. Allison had always been a morning person, th...

The Contest Winner By Nicole Larson “Did you enjoy the show?” the big security man with the headset asked. “I did!” I gushed. “Very much!” And I had. It had been a long time since I’d been to a rock concert, and I wasn’t a huge fan of Cindee’s music, but she had put on a great show. The lights, the songs, the dancing, the insanity of the crowd, it was intoxicating. So here I was, riding an elevator up to the 24 th floor o...

It was busy at the North Side Café in Vail, Colorado . The breakfast rush was on in force. The wait was twenty five minutes, and the lobby was packed. Every table was filled with people waiting to fill their bellies before they headed up for a day of skiing. I was running myself ragged, but I was making decent money. The secret to getting good tips is not so much great service as it is great personality. Joke with them, l...

Although they came from the same planet, lived in the same town, and were both Seniors in the same high school, they were from different worlds. Clarissa was a brain. Smart as a whip, turned on by anything scientific or informational. Her favorite activity was learning, and her mind was constantly analyzing her world and how she was living in it. Her grades were good, but not perfect, because she operated above the concep...

Xanaduby Nicole LarsonGameStop closed at eight, and by the time Miles closed the store down and locked up it was eight thirty. By eight forty, he had been home, changed his clothes, and picked me up at my apartment. He drove as fast as caution would allow—heedless of the speed limit, and the thankfully oblivious cop that had been sitting at the light on Doyle street. By eight fifty, we were pulling into the parking lot of...

Aftermathby Nicole LarsonMy head was pounding--absolutely pounding--when I woke up. A spear of sunlight had shot through an errant slat in my vertical blinds and lanced right into my eye, waking me up. The pain was close to unbearable, but I didn't have the strength to stand, or even move, other than to drape a hand over my eyes. I told myself to go back to sleep. Too early to deal with a hangover, especially one of the e...

First TouchBy Nicole LarsonWe pulled up to the deBoers' house half an hour before eight. We were supposed to be there at seven, but my mom had this thing about being "fashionably late." Dad parked on the street, and we all got out of the car, and headed up the block to the deBoer's well maintained front yard. Mom carried a crudites platter she'd spent all afternoon arranging, and Dad lugged a case of Schlitz. It was cool...