Golden Girl
Page 8
“What can I say? I have a gift.”
“Dude! How are you ever going to make it to pro if you keep getting yourself kicked off the mountain?” Todd shook his head. “I guess I should be thanking you though. It’s going to be a lot easier to win without you at my heels the whole way down.”
“Todd! There you are!”
I glanced behind the snowboarder to see Olivia running up the porch, her cheeks flushed from the cold. Or maybe just too much cherry-colored blush. With her hot pink ski jacket and face plastered with makeup, she looked as if she was about to hit the clubs instead of the slopes.
“Oh, hey, girlie,” Todd said, putting out his arm and wrapping it around Olivia. Were they a couple now? Ugh. “You need to tell your old man to stop kicking Logan off the mountain, or I’m going to die of boredom during my next race.”
Olivia shot Logan a disdainful look. “If he’s banned, then why is he here?”
“I think that’s pretty obvious,” Todd replied, giving Logan a knowing wink. “After all, what guy wouldn’t risk the wrath of Masters for a chance to hang out with the lovely Lexi here.” He shot me a grin. “By the way, welcome back, Lex.”
“Thanks,” I said, unable to help a giggle. He was too much.
Olivia’s face turned purple. “That’s all well and good,” she spit out. “But this porch is for paying customers only.” Her eyes drilled into Logan. “No staff rats allowed.”
“But evidently mean girls are fully welcomed,” Todd shot back playfully, causing Olivia to scowl even harder. He laughed and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Oh, come on, Cujo. Put away your fangs and buy me that hot chocolate you promised me.”
He grabbed her and dragged her down off the porch and toward the Waffle Hut. Before they left, Olivia shot Logan a lethal look, as if to say, I’ll be back—and you’d better not be here when I am. Bleh. What could a nice guy like Todd see in a girl like her?
“I should go,” Logan said. I noticed his ears had turned bright red. He stood up so suddenly he knocked over his chair.
“No!” I cried, panic surging through me. “Don’t listen to her. She’s only trying to—”
Logan waved me off. “I know. But she’s not wrong. I’m not supposed to be here. And if she says anything to her dad, my mom might get in trouble.” He gave me a wry smile. “It was nice to see you again though,” he said. “I’m sure I’ll catch you around.”
And with that, he stepped quickly down off the porch and walked past the ski lodge. For a moment I stood stock still, not sure what to do. Should I let him go? I didn’t want him to get into any more trouble because of me—I’d already ruined his life enough. But at the same time, if he walked out of my life now, I might never see him again.
And I really wanted to see him again.
I spotted him in the parking lot, trudging toward the public bus stop at the other end. He was walking slowly, his steps heavy. It wasn’t hard to catch up.
“Logan!” I cried as I approached. “Wait up!”
He stopped, turning back to me, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Yes?” he asked.
“Take me with you.”
He raised an eyebrow, and I felt my face flush. Where had that come from? Did I sound cool? Or desperate?
“You mean, back to town?” he asked, just as the commuter bus pulled up to the parking lot behind him. A few passengers—mountain employees by the looks of them—started unloading. I bit my lower lip.
“If that’s where you’re going,” I managed to bluster.
It was totally against the rules, of course. Underclassmen weren’t allowed to leave campus without permission—or adult supervision. Never mind leave with a random boy they’d been expressly forbidden to see. If my dad found out, I’d probably end up grounded until the Olympics themselves.
But what choice did I have? Logan couldn’t hang out here. And I couldn’t let him go.
“Please?” I said, now pretty sure I was coming off as desperate. But I no longer cared.
The bus driver honked, signaling his departure. It was now or never. Logan stood still for a moment, as if trying to decide. I held my breath. Please let me come. Please don’t leave me behind.
“Okay,” he said at last, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the bus. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Even though I’d lived on the Mountain Academy campus for most of my life, I hadn’t spent a lot of time in the neighboring town of Littleton, Vermont, just down the hill from the school and ski resort. If we were to go out for groceries or maybe catch a movie, my dad always preferred to head in the opposite direction, toward the vacation town of Paddington, just up the road. Paddington was the kind of town everyone thought of when they pictured traditional New England towns. It had white-steeple churches, cozy bed-and-breakfasts, antique shops, independent bookstores, and even a completely restored covered bridge from the 1900s.
Littleton, on the other hand, was Paddington’s poorer cousin, a postindustrial wasteland that probably should have been put out of its misery once the engines of industry ground to a stop in the mid-1800s, leaving crumbling factories, decaying Victorian mansions, and abandoned storefronts behind.
But somehow Littleton struggled on, and eventually the ancestors of these industrial pioneers found new hope and opportunity when Green Mountain opened its resort. Today most of the town’s residents worked either at the mountain itself or for some other tourist-fed side business that had grown up along the access road, their entire livelihoods dependent on each year’s snowfalls and the winter warriors with fat wallets who visited.
I rubbed my sleeve against the grimy bus window, trying to get a peek outside. I’d never cared much about Littleton before now, but suddenly I was intensely curious about the town that had produced a boy like Logan. This was where he’d grown up, where he went to school. Where he worked and played and ate and slept. I wanted to know everything about it.
“This is our stop,” he announced as the bus pulled up to a nondescript intersection. I followed him out of the vehicle and onto the street.
“So, um, where are we going?” I asked, trying to sound casual even though I was more than a little nervous. I’d never snuck away from school before.
“You’ll see.”
He led me down the snow-caked sidewalk until we reached a redbrick building with no windows and a flickering neon sign that read BILL’S with the B burned out. Logan chivalrously opened the creaky door, allowing me to step inside first.
My eyes widened as I entered. It was a coffee house—but also an arcade. Not just any arcade, though, but an arcade packed with vintage games popular back in the 1980s—the kind my dad used to play when he was a kid. Pac-Man, Dig Dug, Crystal Castles, even Dragon’s Lair. I’d tried a lot of them out on our PlayStation—Dad had bought the arcade games collection, jokingly saying he needed some kind of ego boost after losing to me on Mario Kart for the hundredth time. But I’d never seen any of them in their original big-box packaging. I flashed Logan a grin. How cool was this?
“Lexi!”
I suddenly found myself surrounded and smothered by two familiar faces. Scarlet and Lulu descended upon me, hugging me enthusiastically as they chattered about last night’s adventure. As Logan had predicted, the two girls seemed to have no inkling as to my involvement in the whole ski patrol thing, thank goodness.
“And Logan! Poor, poor Logan!” cooed Scarlet, releasing me. “Banned from the mountain, once more with feeling. Whatever will he do now, with all his spare time?”
“Why, he’ll start hanging out with us, of course!” Lulu chimed in, tossing a blue-streaked braid over one shoulder. “I mean, sure, at first he’ll pretend he’s only coming here for the video games and strawberry smoothies. But in time, he’ll have to admit the truth. He’s become a Manic Pixie superfan and he’s helpless to resist us!” She crowed loudly, making a huge flourish with her hands, then bowed low.
Logan rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah. Cause that’ll happen.”
“Yup. Check it.” Scarlet pointed a chipped, neon-green-painted fingernail to the other end of the coffee bar, where, sure enough, there was a drum set, amps, guitars, and other such band-type equipment haphazardly sprawled across a small stage. “Bill’s my uncle, and he said we could practice here after my mom got sick of us using her garage,” the redhead explained. “As long as we promise not to scare off any customers.”
“As if Bill has any customers besides us,” Lulu added, throwing an affectionate look at the older man behind the coffee bar. I realized he was wearing an eye patch over his left eye and kind of looked like a pirate. “We keep him in business with our chili cheese fry orders alone.”
“So it’s just the two of you?”
“And my brother Roland, who you met last night,” Scarlet added. “I play the drums and Lulu is our bassist. Roland’s on guitar—and right now he sings, too. Ever since Carla quit the band.” She made a face. “But while Roland is admittedly the most amazing guitar player ever, let’s just say he . . .”
“Sounds like a sick cow when he sings?” Logan suggested helpfully.
The girls groaned in unison.
“Seriously, the whole situation totally blows,” Lulu moaned. “There’s this big battle of the bands thing at school in a few months. We signed up ages ago. The prize is like a thousand dollars. And maybe even a chance at a recording deal.”
“But we won’t have a prayer with Roland on the mic.”
“Hey, I heard that!” Roland cried, coming out from the men’s room. He swiped at his shaggy hair, giving the girls a playful grin, telling them he didn’t really mind their complaints. Which made me think he really must be as bad as they claimed.
The two girls looked at one another and then turned to me. “You sure you couldn’t come sing for us?” Scarlet asked suddenly. “After all, you were amazing last night. We could really use someone like you.”
I stared at her, startled by the offer. When they’d said it last night, I’d assumed they were joking around. But now she’d asked again, and this time she looked serious. I had to admit the idea was pretty tempting. Leave all the stuff I was dealing with up on the mountain and do something completely fun and frivolous for once in my life.
But as alluring as the idea was, I knew there was no way I could say yes. Even in a good year I wouldn’t have had enough free time for band practice. And this year was going to be tougher than any I’d had before, if my dad had anything to do with it. (And, of course, he did.) I’d dedicated my life to snowboarding a long time ago, and I knew full well the sacrifices I would have to make.
I realized the two girls, along with Roland, were currently staring at me with hopeful expressions on their faces. I sighed, hating to disappoint them. But what else could I do? It was better to come clean now than get their hopes up for something that could never happen.
“Sorry,” I said. “But my training keeps me pretty busy. I don’t have a lot of free time.” I screwed up my face, imagining what they must think of me. I mean, talk about lame.
“No worries,” Lulu said in a forced cheerful voice. “It was a silly idea anyway.”
“Yeah, you’ve got way more important stuff going on. It’s cool,” added Scarlet. She turned to Roland. “Come on, bro. Let’s get back on the set. Break’s been over for ten minutes now.”
The three of them scrambled up on the platform and grabbed their instruments, gearing up to play. As they launched into their first song, an energetic alternative rock number, Roland belted into the mic, while Lulu hopped around the stage, fingers dancing quickly over her sparkly bass guitar. In the back Scarlet pounded on the drums with perfect precision. They were good. Really good. They would have been great with a real singer. Maybe even record-contract great.
I watched them, unable to move and feeling guilty. This band was important to them, I suddenly realized. As important to them as snowboarding was to me and my friends. This was their dream. Their ticket to fame. And I’d just inadvertently made it sound like a hobby.
I turned to Logan and held up one finger, telling him to wait a minute. Then I took a cautious step up to the stage, my heart pounding in my chest. The music cut short, and the three of them looked down at me with questioning eyes.
“I can’t join the band,” I told them. “But I’d be honored to join you for just one song.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
One song turned into three. Then three more. Before I knew it, two hours had passed with me on the mic. Sure, I started out kind of rough. I didn’t know the songs, and singing with a live band was a lot more challenging than belting out to a karaoke machine like I always did with Mom. But something compelled me to keep going, and by the end of the session I was sounding pretty good, if I did say so myself. Sure, I was no Adele, but truthfully, most of the band’s punk rock songs required more well-tuned screeching than actual singing talent. That and dancing around the stage like a crazy person was something, it turned out, I was naturally awesome at.
When I finally stepped off the stage, swiping the sweat from my brow, Logan approached, clapping his hands. I couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across my face.
“That was amazing!” he declared, giving me a huge hug.
“I’m all sweaty!” I warned, laughing. But he didn’t let me go, which made me grin even more.
Scarlet and Lulu bounced off the stage, making it a group hug. “You were awesome!” cried Scarlet. “So, so good!”
“We were all awesome,” Lulu agreed. “In fact, that was, like, the best session ever. Take that, Carla!” she added loudly, waving her fist.
Breaking from the hug, she headed over to the soundboard. She returned a moment later, a small silver object in her hand. I realized it was a thumb drive. “Here,” she said, pressing it into my palm. “I recorded the session. Something to remember us by.” Her voice was teasing, but held no hint of sarcasm. I’d won their respect, fair and square. A warm happiness settled in my stomach.
“Thanks,” I said, slipping the drive into my pocket. “I can’t wait to hear it. And thanks for letting me sing. It was amazing. I only wish . . .” I trailed off, not able to voice what we all already knew.
“Hey, it’s all good!” Scarlet assured me, patting me on the shoulder. “And if you want to come back—even for just an afternoon—the door’s always open.”
“Absolutely,” Lulu concurred. “You’re like an honorary member of the band now.”
I beamed at them. An honorary member of the band. I liked the sound of that.
I said my good-byes and then headed back over to Logan, who was at the bar, paying our coffee tab. As I sidled up beside him, he looked over at me fondly. “You were really great,” he reaffirmed. “I hope it was fun.”
“It was the best,” I declared, finding myself grinning like a loon all over again. “In fact, I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my Saturday. Thanks for bringing me here.”
“Anytime.” He grabbed his change and stuffed it into his pocket. “Do you need to head back now? I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
I considered this. Truth be told, at that moment I never wanted to go back. Not ever, ever, ever. I wanted to live down here in Littleton and sing and dance and forget there even was a school at the top of the hill to begin with. But, of course, that was impossible. At some point someone would realize I was gone. And then they’d tell my dad. And then . . . Well, I didn’t want to think about that.
I glanced at my watch. Still, I was pretty sure I could get away with escaping reality for another couple hours. And I really didn’t want to say good-bye to Logan just yet.
“I’m good for now,” I told him. “But all that singing has made me super hungry. Is there someplace around here we can go grab some food?”
“Actually,” Logan hedged. “I kind of told my mom I’d be home for dinner. It’s her one day o
ff this week, and I wanted to keep her company.”
“Oh,” I said, trying not to sound disappointed. Of course Logan should spend time with his mom. That was really sweet of him, in fact. And I could always meet up with him another time. At some point anyway. When I could next sneak away. . . . “That’s cool. I can just grab the bus back and—”
“Do you want to join us?” Logan blurted out. Then his cheeks colored. “I mean, it’s kind of lame, I know. But she does make really good sandwiches. And I think she might even be—”
“I’d love to,” I cried, perhaps a bit too eagerly. Logan laughed.
“Well all right then,” he pronounced. He held out his arm gallantly. “Shall we, madame?”
I took it. “After you, my good sir!”
“Oh my gosh, you guys are so cute you make me sick!” Lulu called from the stage, making an overexaggerated gagging noise. Logan gave her a playful wave as we danced out of the coffee house, still arm in arm. I could feel my face flush as the two girls serenaded us out. They obviously thought we were a couple. But in truth, I had no idea if Logan really liked me or was just being nice.
We trudged through the sooty snow a few blocks over and a few more down. About five minutes later we stopped in front of a light blue, triple-decker apartment building with a chipped-paint exterior and a rusty chain-link fence. Not exactly luxury accommodations and yet I found myself gazing affectionately at each crumbling brick. Run-down or not, this place was part of Logan’s life. Which made it as awesome as him.
After Logan unlocked the front door, we headed inside, up three flights of stairs, and into his family’s apartment. As I stepped inside, I looked around, curious to see the place he called home. It was small, but at the same time clean and cozy and inviting, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the air. The carpet, though threadbare in spots, looked recently vacuumed, and the walls were covered with family photographs. My eyes fell upon a school portrait of Logan as a child, complete with two missing front teeth. It made me smile.