Mum takes a step back so you can look down. You have to push your goggles up to see. It’s disorientating for a second to see the world in unfiltered light.

“Your ski pants are waterproof; nobody will be able to tell.”

You squirm, feeling your wet underwear between your legs. You can almost believe it, unable to make out a wet stain on your pants. It doesn’t really compute though, through the shame an embarrassment you can feel.

“I — um,” you say before sniffling. You’re not entirely sure what to say.

“Really, no one will know,” mum say reassuringly again.

Looking down again, you can barely make out the slight discolouration on the snow. Mum tugs at your goggles, carefully pulling them over your helmet before digging into one of her pockets.