Golden Girl

by Mari Mancusi

  “You need to go get help!” I cried. “Go get the ski patrol. Let them know where we are.”

  “You can’t stay up here by yourself,” he argued. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “I’ve got your coat,” I reminded him. “And I’m not about to leave Becca. Please!” I begged. “I’ll find her and I’ll bring her over to the announcer’s shack over there. There’s a little battery-powered space heater for chilly race days. We’ll wait for you there.”

  He looked as if he wanted to argue, but to his credit he only nodded his head. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” His eyes locked on mine. “Be careful, Lexi.”

  “I will.”

  And with that, he leaped back on the snowmobile, revved the engine, and took off down the hill. I watched him go for a moment. Then I forced myself back to the mission at hand.

  “Becca!” I cried out, stomping through the snow. “Where are you, Becca?”

  “Lexi?” The wind was so strong I almost missed the small, scared voice. But then it came again. “Help me!” she whispered.

  It was then that I saw her, clutching a tree, shivering uncontrollably. I ran to her, grabbing her in my arms and holding her tight. “Put your hands in your armpits,” I instructed. “It’ll help warm them up.”

  She obeyed without question, and I led her over to the announcer’s shack, praying the heater was indeed inside. A moment later we were stepping through the door, closing it behind us to cut off the wind. With frozen fingers I found the heater and switched it on. Soon it began to glow red, and I allowed myself a much-needed breath.

  I rummaged around the cramped shack, locating a couple of probably stale granola bars and a few heat packets stashed in a drawer. I tossed one bar and two packets at Becca. “Once you’ve defrosted a little, you can try a couple of these,” I told her, remembering the snow-survival lessons we’d learned in school. “But too much heat too soon might aggravate any frostbite you might have.” I began to yank off Logan’s coat to put it around her.

  “What are you doing? You’ll freeze!” she protested.

  “I’m okay,” I assured her, but an involuntary shiver gave my lie away.

  “We could share,” she suggested timidly. “Remember? Like we used to for fun when we were kids?”

  I nodded, dropping down beside her and slipping one arm out of Logan’s coat. Becca slid up next to me, then slipped her arm into the empty sleeve. We cuddled up next to one another and were actually able to zip the coat around us. It was a little snug, but I figured our joint body heat could only help.

  “Just hang in there, Becca,” I instructed, cuddling close to try to warm us both up. “My friend Logan went to get help. He should be back any minute now with the ski patrol. We just have to hold on a little longer.”

  Becca nodded numbly. Then she turned to me, her eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry, Lexi,” she sniffled. “To drag you out here like this . . . after everything I’ve already done to you.” She closed her eyes, looking miserable. “I’m the worst friend ever.”

  I didn’t say anything for a moment.

  “What happened, Becca?” I asked. “You said it wasn’t an accident—what does that mean? Did you do it on purpose? Did I do something to make you want to take me down?”

  “It wasn’t like that!” Becca protested. “I swear—it had nothing to do with you at all. You did nothing wrong, Lexi. You just wanted to win the race. You deserved to win the race.” Her voice broke. “But I was so stupid. So desperate.”

  She broke off. I waited for a moment, then said, “Maybe you should start from the beginning.”

  She nodded, reaching up to brush an icy tear from her eye. The heater was kicking in, but the floor was still cold, and wisps of wind snuck in through the cracks in the walls.

  “I guess it began with a conference call I had with my parents and Coach Merkin the week before,” Becca said. “He told them I wasn’t progressing the way I should be. That he believed I didn’t have it in me to go all the way. That keeping me in school was only wasting time and money.”

  “Ouch.” I made a face. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

  She shrugged. “I wanted to,” she assured me. “But you were so busy that week with your training. You were so focused—so, in the zone. I didn’t want to distract you with my silly problems.”

  “But if I had known . . .” I trailed off, not sure what I wanted to say. If I had known, would it have made a difference? Would I have volunteered to lose the race on purpose to help Becca stay in school? Everything inside of me wanted to believe I would have. But deep inside, I wasn’t so sure. After all, back then winning was everything to me. Would I have been willing to take a loss to save a friend?

  “Just so you know, I didn’t plan it out or anything,” Becca added fervently. “Not like it makes what I did any better, but I didn’t. I went into the race assuming I’d lose, like always. And then my parents would take me home and it would all be behind me. Except . . .” She sighed. “Except by some miracle I found myself neck and neck with you and Olivia on that final jump. I guess because of all the stuff she’d been doing to sabotage you, you’d both ended up slowing down. And as we approached the jump, I had this sudden feeling like maybe I could prove everyone wrong. Maybe I could win this thing and prove to my coach and parents that I belonged here after all.”

  “And so you grabbed my jacket,” I concluded.

  “I was going to,” she admitted. “But then at the last minute I changed my mind. I couldn’t do that to you. You worked so hard to get where you were. And even though I was crazy jealous, I couldn’t bring myself to deliberately hurt my best friend.”

  “But . . . the video . . .”

  Her face turned bright red. “By the time I decided not to do it, it was too late. I had lost my balance, and I knocked into you by accident. That caused your fall. I know that sounds really convenient. But it’s the truth. Not that I expect anyone to believe me now.”

  “Oh, Becca . . .”

  “And then you hit that tree.” She squeezed her eyes shut, obviously remembering. “Oh, Lexi, you don’t know what it was like to watch that. To know it was all my fault. Because of my jealousy. My stupidity.” She shook her head. “I wanted to go see you immediately,” she added. “To apologize and confess everything. But I was too scared. Not only about being kicked out of school or whatever—but about you knowing what I had done.”

  She hung her head. “My parents were so proud, which only made it worse. We’re not rich, and they’ve sacrificed a lot to send me here. To see the looks on their faces as they told the coach he was wrong and that I deserved to stay . . . well, I couldn’t disappoint them.

  “It wasn’t until the next day that I learned Olivia knew what I had done. She told me if I didn’t do what she said, she’d release the video, taken by one of her Boarder Barbies. I think she thought it would be funny—to have me in her club. A big slap in the face for when you came back to school. And I went along with it, like an idiot.” She shook her head. “I think at that point I would have done anything in the world to keep you from finding out.

  “Anyway,” she said with a shrug. “Now you know what happened. And just so you know, I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t deserve for you to forgive me. In fact, I deserve for you to hand over that video to the school board or the police or whomever you think should have it. Let them see what I did. And when they come to me, I won’t deny that I did it. It doesn’t matter if it was an accident in the end. I’m still responsible.”

  I swallowed hard. The truth was out there now, stark and undeniable. And it was still up to me to decide what to do about it. Should I turn her in? Make her answer for what she’d done? Or let her walk away—allowing her own guilt to serve as the ultimate punishment?

  I didn’t know. I just didn’t know.

  “I’m sorry, Lexi,” Becca said at last. “I know that sounds stupid and lame. But I am sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

&nb
sp; And she was. I saw that she was. She was living under a mountain of regret, feeling powerless to do anything about it. Suddenly I realized exactly what I needed to do. Drawing in a long breath, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the thumb drive.

  “Take it,” I said.

  She stared down at the drive, then at me. “Is that . . . ?”

  “It’s the video,” I confirmed. “I don’t know for sure if it’s the only one, but I took it off Olivia’s computer and deleted her copy. So it’s yours now. Do what you think is right to do.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Despite the storm, or maybe because of it, word had spread like wildfire, and it seemed like half of Mountain Academy was gathered at the bottom of the mountain as ski patrol escorted us to safety. It was more than a bit embarrassing to be seen being dragged down the mountain on a rescue sled once again, but the warm blankets they’d wrapped around us to keep out the chill more than made up for the humiliation factor. By the time we reached the bottom, the storm had subsided somewhat; the winds had calmed, and there was even a hint of the sun itself, shyly peeking out from behind a cloud, as if apologizing for its recent absence.

  We were both taken to the ER in neighboring Paddington. I was discharged almost immediately, with just a small patch of frostbite on my right hand. When I exited, I found my dad, wearing out the waiting room floor, pacing nervously back and forth. I wondered, for a moment, if he was going to yell at me for foolishly running off into a storm like I had. But then I caught the look of relief on his face as his eyes fell on me.

  “Lexi!” he cried, running over to me and grabbing me into a huge hug. He squeezed so tight he almost crushed me, but I didn’t mind. “Oh, sweetie, I thought . . .” He trailed off, but I knew exactly what he couldn’t say.

  “What were you thinking?” he demanded, pulling away from the hug. “Just taking off in a storm like that?”

  “I had to save Becca,” I replied. “I couldn’t just let her go.”

  My dad reached out, stroking my hair with his hand, smiling at me. “It was very brave of you,” he said. “But foolish as well. You could have died out there.”

  “Becca would have,” I reminded him. Then I drew in a breath. “Have you seen her? Is she okay?”

  “From what I understand she has some severe frostbite on her right hand,” he told me. “But they say she’s going to be okay. They just want to keep her overnight for observation.”

  I let out a sigh of relief.

  “Her parents are with her,” my father added. “I think the three of them have a lot to talk about.” He shook his head. “You kids. All this pressure you’re under. You’re such amazing athletes, sometimes it’s hard to remember how young you really are.”

  “I’m not that young,” I protested.

  But he held up a hand to stop me. “Let me finish,” he said. “I know you’ve had a tough time of it since you’ve been back. And I feel partially responsible for that. You told me you needed time—and yet I’ve been pushing you, pressuring you. In some ways, I’m no better than Becca’s parents.” He hung his head. “You have to understand. I was trying so hard to stay positive, to show you that I still believed in you and your dreams. Yet I never thought to ask you if you still had the dream to begin with.” He gave me a rueful look. “It’s your life, Lexi, not mine. You get to choose what you want to do with it.”

  “I want to stay,” I blurted out, before I could stop myself. “I don’t want to go back to Florida. I want to stay here and continue my training.”

  He bit his lower lip. “Lexi, are you sure? There’s no harm in taking a semester off. You’ll be fine to come back next year and—”

  “No,” I declared. “I don’t want to give up snowboarding. But I also don’t want to give up singing. And I don’t want to give up my new friends. Not that I won’t take my training seriously—but at the end of the day there’s more to life than snowboarding. And I want to do it all.”

  For a moment my dad was silent. I held my breath, waiting to hear what he’d say. Then his face broke out into a large grin. “All right, then,” he declared. “I’ll talk to the board in the morning. I’ll tell them to rip up those withdrawal papers.”

  “And one more thing,” I added, a small gleam in my eyes.

  “What’s that?”

  “Next Saturday?” I grinned. “I want to race.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Ladies and gentlemen! Next up in the tenth annual Vermont Snow Stars Competition at Mountain Academy, we have four very talented athletes competing in the snowboard cross event.”

  I rocked back and forth on my board, my fingers white-knuckling the starting handles, scarcely able to concentrate on the announcer’s words, my gaze focused on the crowd around me. Once this was my favorite part of any race. The anticipation, the adrenaline surging. But now it was all I could do not to run screaming from the cage. My heart beat wildly in my chest, and my hands were shaking so hard I could barely hold on. I had to force my eyes straight ahead, so as not to look down.

  “In the second stall, we have Alexis Miller, eighth-grade freestyle rider here at the academy. Alexis is competing in her very first race since an injury knocked her out last year. Guys, let’s welcome her back, okay?”

  I felt my face heat as the crowd roared their approval. Soon a chant of “Golden Girl” rang through the air. Once upon a time I had loved this kind of attention. Having actual fans. But now it was kind of embarrassing. Especially with Olivia in the stall next to me.

  Speaking of… I glanced over to find her staring at me.

  “What?” I growled. I so did not have anything to say to her.

  She rolled her eyes. “Did you really think it was me?” she asked. “All this time—did you really think I was the one who grabbed your jacket?”

  I frowned. “I don’t know. I guess.”

  She snorted. “Look. It’s no secret I’m not your biggest fan. And sure, I’d be thrilled to have my dad off my back when it comes to you. But sorry to disappoint, Golden Girl, you’re just not worth risking my career over. I don’t need to resort to dirty tricks to score a win. I would much rather defeat you the old-fashioned way.”

  She looked so offended that I had to laugh, despite myself. “Fine by me,” I assured her. “I’m just glad to be back in the game.”

  And I was, I realized. I really was. Even though I was scared as anything, I was also admittedly pretty excited. To be on the mountain. Racing. There was a time I had thought I would never be here again. Whatever came of this, I was glad I had done it. That I had had the courage to try.

  “And they’re off in three, two, one—”

  The starting pistol sounded and the gates slammed down. I threw my hips forward, forcing my gaze straight ahead as I pushed off, jolting out of the pack, the wind whipping at my face as I popped over the first few rolling hills. I kept my knees bent, my body aligned, and at first everything felt good. I even had this crazy idea that I could actually pull this off. That I actually had a chance to win.

  But then, suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.

  The panic rushed through me, threatening to crush my ribs. Everything felt as if it was going super fast, yet, at the same time, unbearably slow. As if I were drowning underwater and couldn’t make it to the surface to catch my breath.

  What was I doing? I wasn’t ready for this. Was I crazy to have thought I was ready for this? I was going to crash and burn and—

  And sing. I was going to sing!

  At first I was more than a little embarrassed, belting out the first classic-rock tune that came to my head as I raged down the mountain. What was everyone going to think? Would they assume I had lost it? That I was totally and utterly insane? But then I realized I didn’t care. If this was what it was going to take to get me down to the bottom of the mountain, then this was what I was going to do.

  And to my surprise, the crowd did seem to like it. In fact, I could hear a few of them actually singing along as I made my way toward
the first banked turn. It made me grin, and I sang even louder, giving them a cheerful wave, while concentrating on my next move.

  I was behind Olivia and one other girl, and I watched as they entered the first turn, sweeping up the side to gain speed before exiting around the bend. I followed them, doing my best to score as much altitude as possible, but I didn’t make it as high as I’d hoped, and I fell a little farther behind.

  But that was okay, I assured myself. The race was far from over. I forced myself to stay focused, choosing my line and readying for the first big tabletop jump. Get good air on this and maybe I could pull ahead or at least catch up.

  A moment later I shot over the jump, still singing my heart out. The crowd roared as I flew through the air, the familiar rush of adrenaline seizing me as I soared. I stuck the landing perfectly and launched ahead of the other girl. I could hear her scream of annoyance as she crashed and burned behind me.

  Now it was just me and Olivia. I bent my knees and tucked my body in tight, eeking out more speed. My new board responded, flying across the snow, and soon I found myself gaining ground.

  We hit the next jump at the same time, popping into the air in silent flight, then arcing back down to the earth below. And we were still neck and neck around the next turn, until Olivia’s board nicked a flag, and she flailed to keep her balance. I shot past her; my breath caught in my throat as I realized for the first time that I was in the lead.

  That I could actually win this race.

  Then I looked up and saw the next jump.

  The jump.

  As I raced toward it, it seemed to loom ahead of me, becoming larger and larger until it threatened to block out the sky. My heart skittered in my chest. Was it always this big? Was it always this terrifying? Suddenly visions of me losing my edge, of losing control, of slamming headfirst into a tree swarmed my consciousness, and it was all I could do to not dig my board into the snow and come to a dead stop right then and there.