by A. G. Henley
But jerks or not, their jokes had hit home. Brown, Xene, and now the team were worried about all the ways I was lacking. The doubts about my abilities wormed through my head during the short drive to school.
In the early afternoon sun, Vail glittered like piles of white diamonds. At least a few inches of snow covered the streets, roofs, and cars. Up on the mountain, long triangular stands of gigantic Christmas-style trees divided the vertical slopes. I knew from my flurry of research that VMA was on the eastern edge of the resort near the Vail Ski and Snowboard Club, where the student athletes kept their equipment, met with coaches, and prepped for their training sessions. On the hill above the club was a U-shaped halfpipe, a terrain park with massive jumps and rails, and ski racing runs.
As we pulled up to the three-story, stone covered school, it looked nothing like my old high school in Vegas—or like any other school I’d seen. It looked more like a hotel, probably because it once was. A couple of years before, an endowment allowed VMA to renovate an old hotel as their new campus. Conference rooms became classrooms, hotel rooms were now dorm rooms, the restaurant turned into the dining hall, and the hotel gym was upgraded to a state-of-the-art indoor training center complete with an in-ground trampoline and foam pits for safely practicing aerial tricks.
“Ready?” Everything from Bart’s snotty British accent to his cold glance in the mirror screamed skeptical.
“Thanks for the ride.” I got out, retrieved my bags, and slammed the trunk of the sleek black BMW sedan extra hard. This shit was already getting old.
An administrative assistant with short dark hair talked on the phone at the reception desk in the lobby and gestured to me to wait with a harassed expression. They’d always looked harassed at my school, too. In a painting over her head, skiers and snowboarders plunged down a slope in a swirl of colored snowsuits, a bluebird sky over their heads.
“Nicole Rossi. I’m a new, uh, student,” I said when she hung up.
“Of course. I’ll let Dr. Muth know you’re here.” Muth was the head of the school. She picked up the phone and spoke into it, listened, and hung up. “He’s in a meeting. If you’ll just have a seat? Your roommate, Veena, should be out of class in about two minutes. I believe she’s coming to meet you as well.”
All according to plan so far. The woman locked my suitcase and messenger bag in a closet for me and went back to work while I wandered around the lobby.
Polished wood, lots of glass windows, and worn leather furniture dressed the place. My gaze caught on something dead and antlered—a deer or elk or something—staring at me from over a fireplace. Someone had slapped a sticky nametag on the mount with the name Bode written in Sharpie.
I tried to sit, but I was back on my twitchy feet in thirty seconds. My stomach ached, and my hands couldn’t find anywhere to settle.
Xene had told us stories of bratty rich teens who tried to ditch their CPO every chance they got. They saw us as intrusions, babysitters hired by their parents to ruin their fun, or worse, hired help. Servants they could order around. She’d advised me that starting off on the right foot with Veena and the school administration was “imperative.” This was maybe the most important moment of this assignment and maybe even my career.
Without any warning, the doors along the dual hallways sprung open, and teens erupted out of them. The school was small, only about one hundred-fifty students in four grades, but they could make some noise. A familiar face emerged from the fray.
She had golden brown skin, a round face, and a wide smile. Her black hair, striped with pink now, twisted into a messy braid over one shoulder. She wore calf-covering snow boots, a tiny skirt, a T-shirt that said Burton, and an unzipped purple ski jacket. A battered backpack hung over her shoulder. As she got closer, I saw her nose was pierced with a small diamond, like her mother’s. She came right up to me, no hesitation.
“Hi.” Her smile was wide, and her teeth were polar-ice-cap white. “I’m Veena.”
“Nicole Rossi. Call me Nic.” What to say now? Hello, I’m here to protect you? I took a deep breath and glanced around to be sure we couldn’t be overheard in the din. “So. We have a lot to talk about and go over—starting with what I should call you.”
Xene taught us adult principals might prefer Mr., Ms., or a title like Senator or Your Majesty, if that fit. I wasn’t sure about teens, so I thought I’d ask.
She looked puzzled. “Isn’t Veena okay?”
“Sure, if you’re okay with it.”
Her smile faltered. “It’s my name. Why wouldn’t I be okay with it?”
Right. Okay. Neither of us seemed to know what to say after that. We stood stiffly, half facing each other, half watching the other kids streaming by, throwing us curious glances. One boy’s eyes lingered on me for longer. He wore ski pants that hung down on his hips, a tight long underwear shirt, and a beanie with a blue yarn ball on top. He winked at me.
“Can I give you a little advice?” Veena said, her eyes on him, too. “Stay away from that one. His name’s Jake, and the word asswipe was invented to describe him.”
I smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
As if my upturned lips were a secret sign she was waiting for, Veena grabbed my hands and her dark brown eyes lit up. “You have no idea how happy I am that you’re here, Nic. Do you want to go somewhere?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Come on!”
With a thrilled look on her face, she took me by the hand and dragged me out of the front door.
“Veena, wait. Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
I thought I’d sit and talk with her and then take a few minutes to introduce myself to Dr. Muth, but she obviously had other plans. And, as we were taught at Juno, the client’s plan always trumps ours.
Outside, she let go of my hand to zip up her jacket. We speed-walked around the corner, heading toward the mountain, but I slowed after a minute, panting. My head pulsed, and my mouth was Death Valley dry.
“Veena . . . wait. You need to tell me . . . where you’re going.”
She tugged my arm again, but I pulled back. “Seriously. I have to at least let my team know where we’re headed.”
Cooley and his group were already in place at VMA. They would have seen us leave and followed at a distance, but our rapid departure would definitely confuse them.
I tugged up my coat sleeve. Brown asked me to use my watch to let him know where we were going when we left VMA. I didn’t think I’d need to use it so soon. He’d provided wireless ear buds, but with only Veena around, I didn’t think I needed them.
She studied my wrist. “Nice watch.”
I couldn’t contain myself; I grinned. “It’s custom. Part of a system my team uses to follow me, and you, if you agree to carry a tracker.” My bag at the hotel held her pocket-sized tracking device that doubled as a panic button.
“A tracker? So you can follow me around?”
“Only if you agree.”
She scratched her nose, looking doubtful. “Are you going to tell me where I can and can’t go, too?”
“No.” My voice was firm. I wasn’t her babysitter, except in the sense that whatever she chose to do, I’d make sure she didn’t get hurt. Or worse. “It’s your life, Veena. We’re only here to keep you safe in it.”
Her eyes narrowed as she studied my face. Hopefully she saw the honesty there. “We’re going to the gondola.”
I relayed the information to Brown.
“Keep me posted,” he responded.
Veena’s eyes sparkled. “Your job is so rad.”
I had to agree.
She led me through a pedestrian area with ski shops, coffee bars, and restaurants that looked like they wouldn’t serve me if they knew my bank account total.
“Don’t you have class?” My breath curled away behind me as we rushed along. The sky was clear, but snow lined the streets and paths, and even with my coat and hat, I was freezing my butt off. Veena was barelegged, but I didn’t see so much as a goos
e bump on her.
“In the mornings. Afternoons are my training time, but because I train or compete on weekends, I have Mondays off. Time to play!”
For some reason, coming from Veena, that sounded dangerous.
We entered a square ringed by buildings embellished with flowery designs and strung with twinkle lights. Some had turrets. I guessed they were hotel rooms and condos, places for tourists to stay slope side.
In the center of the square, kids skated on an ice rink while parents sipped hot drinks by fire pits. The whole place smelled like a campfire. To the left, through a gap in the buildings, the ski mountain rose steeply in front of us. People slid down that thing on boards? At top speed?
At the base of the hill, a blue-roofed building covered the gondola machinery. Every few seconds, cars suspended from a thick cable popped out and rose up the hill carrying skiers and riders. Veena led me over to two teens, an Asian boy and a white girl, waiting outside.
“Finally! Let’s go,” the girl said with an accent. The bleached blond hair snaking out from her wool hat was dreadlocked. I recognized Alison King from the digital photos of Veena’s friends I’d gotten from Brown. “I know the liftie. He’ll let us skip the line.”
“Hey, I’m Gage,” the boy said to me. Dark stubble covered his chin, and a pair of ski goggles hugged his forehead and messy black hair. Gage Ito had been in the photos, too. He jerked his thumb at the girl. “And this paragon of manners is Ali.”
“Nic Rossi,” I said.
Ali held out a gloved hand to bump. “How ya going, Joey?”
I blinked. “What?”
“She doesn’t speak Aussie or snowboarder, Ali,” Gage said.
“A pleasure to meet you, newbie.” Ali shot him an eye roll. “Happy? Let’s do this before Chase changes his mind.”
Veena gave me a sheepish look and shrugged. “Joeys are people new to snowboarding.”
I sighed. First Green, now Joey. Being new to a job sucked.
We walked through an empty line marked Ski School, bypassing a candy-colored swirl of skiers and riders waiting to board the gondola. A few guys wearing hats, gloves, and blue coats with Vail embroidered on the back stood inside stomping their feet against the cold. Music pumped in the background, battling with the noisy gondola. Cars whipped around in a semi-circle, and then slowed so people could load and unload.
Ali waved to one of the guys as we walked up. The plastic nametag on his chest said Chase and Silver Springs, Maryland. She hugged him with a squeal. “Can we jump on?”
Chase scratched his shaggy beard and waved us into line in front of a distracted mom herding three kids and their gear. “Hop in.”
“Thanks!” Veena dove into the open door, and we all piled in after her.
“Love ya!” Ali yelled as the door closed.
My stomach stayed at the bottom of the hill while the rest of me rose up. The gondola didn't move that fast, but I seriously wasn’t feeling well now. Thinking through the headache was like plowing through an opponent in self-defense class at Juno.
“So . . . what are we doing?” I asked. Veena and her friends didn’t have skis or boards with them.
“You’ll see,” Veena said, and the others smiled. She pulled fuchsia snow pants out of her backpack, tugged them on under her skirt, and shimmied the skirt down over the top. She handed me a red pair of the puffy pants. “I brought an extra pair for you. I hope they fit—you’re taller than me.”
Huh. That was thoughtful. I pulled them on. They were short but covered the tops of my boots. “Thanks.”
Veena yanked a water bottle covered in a swirling design out of her bag and drank, making my dry lips pucker. The thought of eating or drinking made me feel worse, though.
The gondola swept through the air over narrow runs that ranged from open and smooth to narrow and pitted with trees, bumps, and stumps. People zigzagged down the slopes at various speeds. While we watched, one woman took a spectacular fall, her skis and poles flying in all directions.
“Ooh, yard sale,” Gage said. In her purple coat, the woman looked like a squirt of grape jelly against the snow. She squirmed, trying to right herself, as we watched.
“We’re supposed to get a dump tonight,” Ali said. “Maybe some free riding tomorrow, VV?”
Veena rolled her eyes. “Like Nate would let me. Not this close to the Games. I think if he could get away with it, he’d hold my hand walking down stairs.”
Ali snorted.
Veena’s long-time private coach, Nate Schneider, was a retired pro snowboarder. According to Brown, Nate coached Veena at Lake Tahoe in California, where she learned to ride. He followed her here, thanks to her parents’ financial support. Not for the first time, I wondered how much money the Venkatesans actually had.
I hadn’t heard of Veena’s father, Rohan Venkatesan, before SSA hired me, but in my briefings, I’d been told he was a mega-successful tech entrepreneur who made bank creating and selling start-ups. Only half-jokingly, the media called him the Golden God because everything he touched made money, including his current nanotechnology venture. I’d figured out nanotech was really small stuff that could be made into other stuff. Or something like that.
“Do you two snowboard like Veena?” I asked Ali and Gage.
“Ali rides, but I ski,” Gage said. “Veena said you want to learn. Which are you going for?”
“Snowboarding.” I thought I might as well learn the sport my client does.
Ali and Veena hooted with approval, but Gage groaned and shook his head with mock sadness. “Wrong decision.”
Brown had created my cover story. Rich, bored, and unhappy at my old school, I’d transferred into VMA mid-year to learn to ride. My parents, friends of the Venkatesans, apparently had more money than sense. Veena had a private room, so she’d offered to take me in as a roommate for the rest of the year so I could meet people. And to top it off, I would be in all of Veena’s advanced classes. It was shaky, but the best we could come up with.
“You’re gonna love riding,” Ali said.
“Give it three days to get on your feet,” Veena said. “You’ll be ripping pow-pow in no time.”
“Ripping what?” I asked.
“You know.” Ali smirked. “Shredding the gnar.”
I stared. Was she speaking Australian?
Gage planted a boot beside me on the bench. “It’s snowboard-speak. Translation: you’ll be riding very difficult terrain in waist deep powder with style and attitude before you know it.”
They laughed, so I did, too. After a minute of silence, Gage and Ali eyed each other, then Veena, who stared out the window.
“So how long have you been a bodyguard, Nic?” Gage asked.
Veena whirled toward him, mouth open with horror.
“That’s so rad,” Ali added.
“Radical. Cool.” Gage explained.
I threw Veena a disapproving look. If she was going to tell everyone about me, I might as well not have a cover story.
She glared at her friends. “You weren’t supposed to tell her you knew! I wasn’t supposed to talk about her!”
“Oh, c’mon VV, we weren’t gonna be able to pretend we didn’t know,” Ali said.
“We won’t tell anyone else, promise.” Gage put a fist over his heart.
Veena peeked at me. “They’re my best friends. I had to tell them. Are you mad, Nic?”
“Who you tell is up to you,” I said. “But it would be best if the whole school didn’t know. The fewer the better.”
Ali tucked a foot under her and leaned forward. “Okay, let’s get down to it. How many people have you killed, Nic? Really.”
Gage peered at me, his head cocked. “And how old are you?”
“Twenty,” I said.
Ali whipped off her hat. “Shut the front door. You’ve killed twenty people?”
“I haven’t killed anyone. I’m twenty.” Barely. But they didn’t need to know that. Their admiring looks felt good, to be honest.
; The gondola swung inside another building at the top of the hill. I stumbled out of the door when it opened and into the arms of Dave from Grand Junction, Colorado. He righted me, yelling that the lifts were closing soon over the racket of machinery and music.
Outside, blinding rays of late afternoon sun reflected off the snow and into my face. I fished my sunglasses out of my pocket, and once they were safely on, pried my eyes open.
We were at the top of the hill, but not quite the top of the mountain. In the distance, snowy peaks jutted into the blue sky in all directions, while ski runs unspooled like toilet paper below us. Off to the right, a huge vehicle with tracks instead of wheels trundled by, flattening the snow under it, and near it, a little wood house sat with a couple of snowmobiles parked outside. Ski Patrol, the sign said. A group of skiers set off down the hill while a few snowboarders sat on the snow to strap their back feet onto their boards. It was all very wintery.
Veena, her friends, and I trudged up a hill to the left toward a wooden sign announcing we were entering Vail Adventure Ridge. Above us, long, smooth grooves were cut into the snow and divided by sides of ice as tall as a person. Every few seconds, people on huge inflatable inner tubes hurled themselves down one of the grooves, squealing and laughing as they went.
Some tubes shot down like speeding powdered donuts, their riders hanging on for dear life, others rotated in lazy circles. A moving walkway lay alongside the chutes to bring people and tubes to the top. I texted Brown where we were.
Another guy in a blue Vail jacket stood guard at a corral of extra tubes. Shawn from Ft. Worth, Texas fist bumped Veena and her friends. He looked around and jerked his head at the walkway. “Go on. Half-hour till close.”
Veena shrugged at me with an apologetic smile. “Tubing is expensive. The lifties let us go for free at the end of the day sometimes.” She grabbed a tube and jogged onto the moving walkway. I wondered why the cost was a problem for her . . . until I remembered her friends probably didn’t have access to the same kinds of funds she did.