- the beginning of a career -

"And the winner of the 2013 youth all-round freestyle skier is..."

There's tension in the air, as I'm nervously biting the inside of my cheek, getting a disapproving look from my mom, simply because she knows I'm biting my cheek again. She always tries to get me to stop.

But it's nerve-wracking to stand here amongst eleven other contestants while any of them have competed in games before and this is my first time ever. I' the youngest, the newest, and probably the only one without parents who made me grow up on skis.

I started when I was five nonetheless, which is probably early compared to a lot of skiers. But most of the kids around me have been skiing longer then they've been walking. Figuratively off course, because you can't ski before knowing how to walk. 

But that's not the point.

I'm the newbie.

And according to reporters, I was the most promising talent, but that doesn't hand me the win. That doesn't get me the cup, or the pride, or the bragging rights.

I hop from one foot to another, getting impatient and a bit annoyed by the guy who's drawling tons of bullshit, before he finally pulls the card out of the envelope that holds the winners name.

I allow myself to take a peek at the BMX bike that the winner gets when I hear him call out the winner's name.

"Milan Lohmann!"

My eyes widen and my jaw drops, as the people in the audience start clapping, my personal fans cheering as loud as possible.

I smirk towards them, and especially towards Jacob, who had been the one that pushed me to sign up for this tournament in the first place.

Then, I proudly hop onto the podium, shake the guys hand and grab hold of the most desired cup in the area with an even more daring smirk on my face.

Daring people to challenge me to go head to head with the junior champion of the year.

* * * * *

"What's your full name?"

"Milan Ferdinand Lohmann." I take in the reporter from head to toe, annoyed because I wanted to go home about three hours ago, but then mom and dad wanted to go out for dinner, and then a guy from the tournament called and said that I was supposed to give an interview to a local newspaper. And now I'm here, I'm tired and I just want to slap the guy and go home. Can't we do this tomorrow?

"How old are you?"

"Thirteen, sir," I grumble, sliding down in my seat a bit, while mom lets her hand go through my hair. "Any good questions?"

"When did you start skiing?" He scratches his nose casually, ignoring my sneer. He most definitely isn't interested in this article, or interview, or whatever he's going to make of it.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"When I was five, sir." I smirk. "Bet you figured I started as a baby, huh?"

He shortly looks up with a small smile, shaking his head. "Nowadays, most kids start later."

His stupid remark makes me feel just the tidiest, slightest bit less proud.

"By four is an average age, so you're still a bit late." He winks as soon as I smirk at him again. "Why did you start skiing?"

"Because all of my brothers did, and I thought it looked cool." I shrug, my mom smiling at the memory of my oldest brother Romeo teaching me how to ski back when I was five. She keeps reminding me how cute I looked.

Like I want to look cute! Hell no!

“Ah, so you have brothers?”

“Four annoying idiots, yes sir.” I nod with another smirk and mom slaps the back of my head for calling Romeo, Leo, Mateo and Mass idiots. But that’s what they are, loud, screaming, annoying idiots. Thank god Romeo, Leo and Mateo already left the house by now.

The reporter smirks back at me, his eyes beholding amusement over my attitude. He writes it down quickly, before he looks back up. “Any of them a threat to you? Or are you the only one in the family with this much talent?”

“I’m not talented, I think.” I frown, wondering if I really ain’t talented. “I like to think it’s hard work, sir. I’ve been out on the snow nearly every day there was good enough conditions for over eight years.”

“That’s true, Milan’s hobby costs us a fortune, but buying him a pass to the mountain each season is money well spent.” Mom agrees with me. “He’s out there every waking moment.”

“And you videotape the sessions, or, your best friend does?”

“Yeah, Jacob Massaro follows me around with a camera to videotape what I do. We need a better camera though, but it’s fun to see progress.”

“So, you use the videos to watch and learn?”

“And to share on YouTube, sir.” I smirk once more. “I have, like, fifty followers on my channel and it’s nice when they comment me. But Jacob takes care of all that.” I wave with a hand, to wave it off. I don’t want to talk about that.

I wanted more people to respond to my video’s, but even though Jacob managed to get my channel followed by nearly fifty people, only a handful responds to the videos in the comment section.

I didn’t even want to upload the videos in the first place, but Jacob really wants to work behind a camera and he says this is the start of his career. And who am I to stop him from pursuing his dreams?

Jacob Massaro is my best friend ever since I started in pre-school. He was seated next to me on the first day, and it clicked instantly. He just went home with his parents, as he is part of the reason I am as good at freestyle skiing as I am, and I insisted on him joining for our celebration dinner.

“Ah, so you have a small fan-base already?”

“Yeah, not as big as I want it to be, but I’m just getting started, right?” I flash him a cheeky grin and I think the guy really starts to like me, as he keeps sending me amused smiles.

Mom and dad are seated at my sides and every so often I notice a proud smile on both their faces.

Mass is lingering around in the background, with his best friend Louis, waiting for me to be ready and go home.

Out of all four brothers, Mass is the only one that I actually get along with, despite the fact we have an age-gap of nearly six years.

I’m the accidental fifth son. I wasn’t intended. My parents wanted three kids, and Mass and Mateo turned out as a twin, ending up with four.

One drunken night in Milan, and I was created. And they ended up naming me after the city that I was conceived in. How ironic, how stupid.

Though I like my name. It’s cool. Way better than most boys’ names.

I mean, there’s a Jan in my class and it’s such a dull name.

I could have had it worse.

Mass is the only one of my brothers that is interested in my activities in skiing and besides my parents and Jacob, he’s my biggest supporter, always willing to drive me everywhere since he got his drivers license.

I end up answering another bunch of questions about myself, like what I want to become in the future – doctor – or if I pursue a dream of getting into the Olympics – I’m not sure. He asks me how school is dealing with my training-schedule, which is really professional and helpful since they give me as much time off to practice ever since I got entered into this tournament.

And since I won, I bet they’ll be even more lenient with their support.

I am, after all, a promising talent.