If the bell hadn’t rung just then, Manda might’ve gone off on Livvy, telling her what she thought of Jenna and Heather both.
Really, she was relieved to hear the bell signaling first period. Time to get on with her life . . . her school life. Forget social life. Jenna, Livvy, and Heather could have their precious meetings without her if that’s what they wanted. And they could kick her out of the club, too, for all she cared. Why were they picking on her, anyway?
Manda tried hard to put an end to the negative notions flying around in her head. The more she stewed over Jenna and Girls Only, the worse she would continue to feel all day. And the poorer she would perform today after school when she hit the slopes.
I don’t need this! She closed her locker and hurried down the hallway to class. She thought of her beloved harmonica, wishing it were nestled deep in her school bag. About now, she could use some calming down.
Star Status
Chapter Five
Manda gazed at the hazardous downhill course. Like a slumbering white bear, the mountain towered above the town of Alpine Lake, its precipitous slope lying in wait for her. Today, the vertical drop looked unusually steep. She could see the first gate—two poles with a red rectangular panel between them. Fewer gates were placed on the course for downhill races than in the slalom, giant slalom, and Super G, or super giant slalom. The gates on the downhill course basically provided a safety precaution to keep skiers from going too fast. And to keep skiers away from particularly treacherous areas.
I’m a winning machine, Manda told herself. She had been trying to pump herself up mentally and emotionally. But today had been difficult for her. Heather, her all-time best friend, had possibly broken a confidence, blabbing important, private info to Jenna and Livvy.
Bummed, she crouched low at the starting gate, waiting for the signal. Rocking back and forth on her best skis, she could see the valley below. Narrow streets neatly lined up, mapped out in rows with mostly Victorian houses on either side.
Livvy Hudson’s old house was one of the many gray-and-white three-story residences on Main Street. She lived there with her widowed father—an artist with a studio high in the eaves—and her fussy grandmother, a gourmet cook.
Jenna Song and her Korean-American family lived in a large, older house, too. Jenna’s attic bedroom was not only huge, it was the incredible retreat for the Friday Girls Only Club meetings. Complete with a barre placed in front of floor-to-ceiling mirrors, the place was spacious and airy. The ideal spot for Jen, Livvy, Heather, and Manda to meet once a week, as well as to practice ballet to some of their favorite music. They’d even presented several full-scale musicals for their families featuring dance and drama.
Heather Bock and her cute older brother, Kevin—also her ice-dancing partner—along with their parents and younger brother and sister, lived not far from both Livvy and Jenna. In fact, all of Manda’s closest friends lived within walking distance.
But now, high on Falcon Ridge, Manda turned her attention away from the valley to the job at hand. Fortunately, there was hardly any wind today. A nice change after a week of blowing and drifting snow causing white-out conditions, not conducive to skiing. At least the run was free of excessive ice buildup today. It was Manda’s pet peeve, and if not handled correctly, a skier’s handicap. A picture-postcard day—the sky was a perfect blue and the mountains were amassed with snow on all sides.
Ski, baby, ski, she thought as the signal came. She was revved up and ready to face the fear factor.
Swoosh! She shot out of the starting gate. The snow was too fresh and slowed her down. She wished she might’ve been third or fourth on the team to ski today. By then, the others would have pushed the snow off the course a bit. But Coach had them draw numbers for this practice, the way it would be in Dressel Hills at the real racing event.
Eager to push her speed to the limit, her raw nerve was on the line. But her wits were out of focus. Hard as she tried, she could not still the echo of words from Livvy’s lips. The prez is threatening to call . . .
She tried to corral the destructive thought, gather it up in a basket in her mind and hurl it over the abyss to her left on this steep and dangerous course.
The margin for error was small on a slope like this. It was much too precarious for her not to focus.
Swish! Past the first gate, she felt herself losing control in the air. Struggling to right herself, she used her ski pole to balance as she was airborne. Then, wham, her skis pounded the packed surface with her landing.
“Ski for yourself,” Heather had encouraged her. “Forget about impressing anyone.”
Zooming down the course, she felt herself shifting too far to the left. She fought hard, but she was helpless. The pull of gravity dragged her down, and she wiped out, sprawled like a butterfly in the snow. Where’s my dynamite? she wondered, staring up at the blue of the sky. She got up, thoroughly disgusted with the run.
I can’t let Jen and Livvy get to me. I won’t derail my chances!
Yet she’d have to wait her turn, her chance at a second run. The next skier would be shooting out of the gate at the top within minutes. She’d blown her first run of the day. Her supposed friends had whacked her a good one.
Maybe it was a good thing she’d made no effort to settle things with the proud prez of the club. She could’ve told Livvy she would drop by Jenna’s tomorrow, if only for a few minutes to say “hi,” show some interest in the club. No problem. But thinking about it now, she felt secretly good about ignoring the girls’ continual pleas for her company. Good and glad. There was no chance she’d make it to any ridiculous special meetings, either. She had too much to accomplish by the race.
Rubbing her sore leg where she’d fallen, Manda winced, though not so much from physical pain. She was almost sure Jenna would see to it that the three remaining members would vote out the one delinquent member—her.
So what, she thought. Let them kick me out!
* * *
The ride home from practice in Mom’s car took longer than Manda had hoped. Tons of homework awaited her attention. Besides that, she wanted to talk to Heather before it got too late. Wanted to give her dearest friend a call and find out what was going on—who told whom what . . . and why.
Mom stopped off at the grocery store, then made a pit stop at the home of a church friend who was altering a skirt for her. “I’ll be just a minute,” she said, getting out of the car and hurrying across the street.
Meanwhile, Manda wished she’d brought along some homework, to get a jump on math especially. She was still kicking herself mentally for her lousy run on the slopes. Even though the first attempt was a total wash, the second and third were nothing to brag about, either. Her speed was as slow as a turtle compared to her time on better days. Any good skier could’ve beat her out today. And all her teammates had done so.
“You’re not losing your fire, are you?” Coach had asked at the base of the mountain.
“Nope,” she’d said, disappointed in herself.
Coach frowned slightly, then said, “First thing tomorrow, you and me . . . we’re back out here.”
“Sure,” she’d replied, tears stinging her eyes. “I’ll be here at dawn.”
“Good. We’ll see if you’ve got what it takes to place—if you can pull out on demand, when it’s just the two of us.”
Bummer. Manda wanted—needed—the competition and fervor her teammates offered. Their encouragement, too. Something that was sorely lacking in her non-skiing circle of friends.
* * *
Still waiting in the car—impatiently now—for Mom’s return, Manda leaned back on the headrest and tried to relax. If only she were a little older, she could drive herself home. If they had more than one car, that is . . .
Someday, if Matthew Greenberg married her mother, they might finally become a two-car family or more. She’d seen his collection of dust-jacketed clothbound books, rows and rows of them. And there was expensive state-of-the-art electronic equipment
in his home office, a big-screen TV in the family room, and a new Porsche in the garage. So, her guess—he was probably rolling in it. For one thing, he didn’t skimp on dinner dates with Mom. He also took her to posh places like the local dinner theater and the expensive Broadway-style production in downtown Denver. Yep, she was almost positive the guy was loaded. How else could he afford to send his young son to a private preschool, as well as to after-school instruction at the village’s elite ski academy? Only rich kids hung out there.
Quite by accident, she had put herself in that category. Of course, she and Mom knew the truth about their meager finances. Suddenly, she realized time was running out, and she hadn’t even invited Uncle Frank to the race.
What am I thinking? she wondered. Her mom’s brother, above all people, deserved an invitation to the competition in Dressel Hills. Tonight, she would offer a formal invite by phone. Mom wouldn’t mind if she made it quick.
Thinking about Uncle Frank, she caught herself staring over at the steering wheel. She surveyed the dusty dashboard and upholstered seats. Mom’s car was nothing to look at or brag about. But when it came to reliability, that’s where this old coupe shone. It started up and purred on the severest winter days, when newer cars in the neighborhood choked and sputtered, merely sitting.
I don’t want a stepdad just so we have more money, she thought. And that was certainly not what motivated her growing interest in Mr. Greenberg’s dating relationship with Mom. No, there was much more to it. Mom’s radiant smile and genuinely cheerful countenance counted for a lot. Her mom enjoyed her job as ski instructor, adored her daughter, and savored every tiny slice of living. She was an all-around pleasant, fun-loving person.
But this . . . Mom’s ongoing sunny disposition was something very special. Her mother just might be falling in love, and Manda couldn’t be happier, at least about that one aspect of their lives.
* * *
“Coach ordered me to the slopes first thing tomorrow,” she said when Mom returned to the car at last.
“Extra practice can only help,” Mom said. She started the car and pulled away from the curb.
If she only knew . . . Manda wondered how long she should wait before describing her horrendous afternoon on the mountain.
Slowly, they passed through the small residential area of Alpine Lake. Large aspen trees, bare and stark against painted clapboard houses, lined the streets on both sides. And there was an occasional pedestrian, bundled up against the cold.
A storm front had been forecast for later tonight—more snow on the way. Would she have to battle new powder on the slopes again tomorrow? Still, she had been trained to deliver speed and agility no matter the slope conditions. Powder or packed powder, she couldn’t blame today’s miserable performance on the weather. Yet Manda was looking for something to sink her concentration into. Anything but the hard, cold facts.
Star Status
Chapter Six
“Are Mr. Greenberg and Tarin coming to the race?” Manda asked her mom as they cooked supper together.
“I’m sure they’ll want to,” Mom said.
“Did you invite them yet?”
Mom pointed to the telephone. “Why don’t you do the honors.”
Manda nodded. “Sure. After supper.”
She and her mother kept busy cooking spaghetti with vegetarian sauce, green beans, and steamed carrots and onions. Mom made a delicious tossed green salad while Manda set the table and poured hot herbal tea into mugs. “I guess I thought you’d already invited them,” Manda pushed as they sat down to eat.
Mom’s eyes took on a curious expression. “Is something bothering you, honey?”
Groaning inwardly, she didn’t want Mom to discourage anyone from showing up. She needed all the moral support she could get. But she was struggling. The important race was coming at her so fast she felt dizzy sometimes. “I . . . I don’t think I can get ready in time,” she confessed. “And I’m not kidding.”
Mom’s head popped up, and her fork hovered there in midair. “But you want to win more than anything, don’t you?”
“Sure, I want it. That’s all I think about every minute of every day. But there’s so much garbage in my head.” She couldn’t possibly get into it.
“Manda, for goodness’ sake, what’s happening?”
She shrugged. “Coach is a little worried. That’s all.”
“How worried?”
Reaching for her water glass, Manda took a deep breath. “To tell you the truth, I think he’s really freaked. Enough to try to pull something out of me tomorrow real early.”
Mom nodded. “Why’s he freaked?”
“He thinks my passion is fizzling,” she said.
“Well, is it?” Mom was freaked now, too.
“Maybe . . . or maybe I’m just so fuzzy right now.”
“I don’t like what I’m hearing,” Mom said.
She knew her mother would say something like that. But Manda didn’t want to wallow in the problem. Much more than her enthusiasm had nose-dived lately. But this wasn’t the time to dissect any of that.
“Manda, honey, this isn’t like you.” A disappointed look crossed Mom’s face. She was beginning to wonder if Mom had already told her friends that her daughter was going to place high. Higher than ever. You just wait and see about my Manda. Mark my words, she’s a shoe-in for first place. Knowing Mom, she’d probably announced this all over town!
“It’s not about skiing or winning. Sure, I want both.” Manda sighed. Could she make Mom, an expert skier, understand? “This is about me.”
Mom nodded her head. “Of course it is, sweetie. Getting in shape and gearing up for a race is all about you, me, or anyone who’s competing. You know that.”
“Right.” She couldn’t believe her mom was going on like this. Had she already talked with Coach? Eyeing her mom, Manda suspected Coach Hanson of having called on his cell phone—maybe from the slopes—right after her infamous wipe-out.
Mom pressed on. “Top-notch skiing is far less about talent and strength than about a clear head.”
“Any ideas how I empty out the junk?”
“Just plain focus,” Mom replied. “Push out everything else.”
“I’m going to lose friends over my amazing ability to concentrate. It’s a full-circle nightmare. I focus on the race and ignore my friends, which helps me ski well but stinks socially. Then, because I’m a self-imposed loner—at the moment—I hear about it from all sides. It’s eating me up.”
Mom scooted her chair out and rose to pour more tea. Across from the table, a small writing desk was set back in a cozy nook complete with overhead latticework. A recent flea market find stood nearby, a tall linen cupboard painted a lighthearted blue. All her life, Mom had longed for a cottage-style kitchen. So when they first rented the house, Manda and her mother set to work painting the walls a buttercup yellow, and the woodwork a dazzling white. A whimsical Mary Engelbreit look, minus the clutter. The curtains over the back door and the large window were bright and pretty in poppy flowers. “Eye-popping poppies,” Mom had said of the floral fabric found at the discount mill outlet.
When Mom sat down again, her elbows promptly found the tabletop. “You’re coming up so close to this race,” she said, leaning near. Reaching across the table, she patted Manda’s hand. “I hate to see you like this. Your attitude isn’t healthy, hon.”
“Yeah, and I’m worried, too.” There. She’d admitted to being fearful. More than anything, I want to win. I just don’t know how, thought Manda.
Mom excused her from helping clean up the kitchen. “Go start your homework,” she said. “We’ll talk tomorrow, after your early-morning date with the mountain.”
For a second, Manda was almost sure her mom was going to volunteer to go along. To observe the private ski session with Coach. But Mom opened the dishwasher and began loading their supper plates and silverware. No tagging along tomorrow—that wasn’t Mom’s style, anyway.
From the time Manda turned
eleven, her mother was one to let Manda do her thing on the slopes. Plenty of faith rested on Coach’s expert assistance. And Manda appreciated the fact Mom trusted her instincts. There was never any second-guessing when it came to Manda’s skiing abilities. Sure, there were hair-raising moments because of the risk factor. But Mom didn’t put the brakes on Manda’s willpower and raw nerves. Or talent.
She headed upstairs to her room. The carpet had been vacuumed while she was at school. Looking at her bureau and nightstand, she saw that Mom must’ve dusted, too. She does too much for me, Manda thought, hoping that someday they could afford someone to help with housecleaning. If Mr. Greenberg married Mom, they might.
She dialed the Greenberg residence. Because she was the regular sitter for Tarin, she had memorized the phone number. When Tarin’s father answered, she reminded him of the downhill race on St. Patrick’s Day. “I hope you and Tarin can come,” Manda said.
“Of course we’ll be there,” he said. “The wearing of the green, right?”
She had to smile at that. “Tarin won’t pinch me if I wear my purple ski outfit, will he? Since I’m not Irish, I’ll probably skip the green thing.”
“Do as you wish.” He chuckled softly. “I’m sure Tarin will be on his best behavior. By the way, would you and your mother like to ride with us to Dressel Hills?”
“Sure, thanks.” She was secretly delighted. Yet another opportunity for the four of them to be together. Like a real, complete family.
* * *
Sitting at her desk, Manda zipped through the long math assignment as quickly as possible. Several times in the course of forty minutes, she was tempted to call Heather. But she made herself finish all the problems first, then double-checked them. That completed, she picked up the portable phone and beeped it on. Today on the slopes had shown her it was past time to clear the air with her best friend. With the other club members, too. This stuff with Jenna, and now Livvy . . . well, she couldn’t afford to let any of it interfere with her skiing goals. Not if she was going to redirect her thoughts toward the race, get herself back on the winning track.
Girls Only! Page 22