When we were thirteen, we went to Keystone for a ski trip with Max as our chaperone. He was basically the only parent who would ever take us to do fun shit, instead of leaving us in boarding school year round. Day two of the vacation, Max broke his wrist trying to beat Royce in a snowboard freestyle competition and had to visit the medical center in Silverthorne for X-rays. While he was there, a blizzard hit and cut off the road. We were stuck in the Essexes’ mountain chalet for four whole days with no parents to tell us no. I used to think that was the best week of my whole life. It’s not
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