Golden Girl (17 page)

“Yeah, baby!” Becca cheered as we heroically cleared level thirteen. “Epic win!” She reached over and high-fived me, her eyes dancing with excitement.

As the late afternoon dipped into evening, we battled killer bees, raging robots, dreadful dragons, until our hands grew tired from mashing buttons and gripping joysticks. Exhausted, I stepped back from the Dragon's Lair machine, only to slam into someone behind me. I whirled around, surprised to see Roland, his arms full of cables.

“Lexi!” he cried as he recognized me. “You're here! Are you singing with us tonight?” He dropped the cables and gave me a big bear hug. I hugged him back, excited to see him, too. Even though we didn't know each other well, I'd been listening to his guitar playing in my headphones all week long, making me feel close to him in a weird way.

“Nah. I just brought my friend Becca down for some stress relief,” I told him. “I didn't know you guys would be here.”

“Yeah, it's open mic night tonight,” Roland informed me after glancing at his watch. “Starts in about an hour. Lulu and Scarlet are going to totally freak if they see you. You'd better hide unless you plan to perform with us. You know what they think about taking no for an answer.”

“Perform?” Becca asked curiously, coming up behind me.

“Um, long story,” I muttered, feeling my face heat.

“What, you didn't know your friend here is the most amazing singer in all of Vermont and maybe New England, too?” Roland asked, smiling at her. “We've made her an honorary member of Manic Pixie Dream Girl.”

Becca stared at him, then at me. “I knew you liked to sing in the shower—but in a band?” Then her eyes grew wide. “Wait, Manic Pixie Dream Girl? Isn't that the band Coach Basil was playing in her room the other day? The one everyone was freaking out about and demanding a copy?”

Now I was blushing furiously. “I don't know. Maybe?”

Traitor Coach Basil! That was supposed to be on the down-low!

Related:
Everyone was freaking out? Everyone wanted a copy?

Becca grabbed my hands, jumping up and down. “Dude! You're like a total rock star!”

“I jammed with them once!” I protested, yanking my hands away. “Trust me, I'm so not a rock star!”

“You could be if you joined us tonight . . . ,” Roland said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

I shook my head, reality settling back in. “I can't. I have to get Becca back for her conference call at nine.”

My friend groaned. “Forget the conference call! They can reschedule. Or have it without me. That's how they make all their decisions about my life anyway.” She rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Lex. When are you going to ever have a chance like this again? You have to go for it!”

I sighed. She wasn't going to give up, was she? “Okay, fine.” I relented at last, feeling secretly pleased at the idea. “I guess I could sing. I have been practicing the songs, actually. I mean, just for fun.”

“This is awesome!” Roland cried. “The girls are going to totally freak out.” He beamed at me. “I'm going to go tell them the good news.”

My stomach flip-flopped as I watched him go. I wasn't so sure about this being a good idea. But the shiny excitement on Becca's face made me at least want to try.

A
nd that was how, about an hour later, I found myself being pushed onstage by Scarlet and Lulu—a microphone placed in my hand. My whole body shook as I looked out over the coffee house and all the people sitting in folding chairs, waiting for us to start. It was probably only a dozen or so, but it might as well have been millions. And the fear that rose to my throat felt like it was trying to choke me.

It was one thing to sing to myself while riding down a mountainside on my board. Another to sing by a fire, accompanied by friends. But it was something else entirely to get onstage in front of an entire audience of strangers and dare to do something I wasn't quite sure I even knew how to do properly.

“I don't know if I can do this,” I hissed at Scarlet as she took her place beside me. “What if I mess it up?”

“Then you mess it up,” she shot back, not missing a beat. “It's not the end of the world.”

“I know, but . . .” I looked out over the crowd of people, my heart beating rapidly in my chest. “I don't want to let you guys down.”

“Are you kidding? If you weren't here, we'd have to have Roland sing!” Lulu laughed. “Now
that
would be a letdown.”

“Look. It's open mic night at some silly café. Not an
American Idol
audition,” Scarlet added. “Seriously, you just need to let it go and have fun. That's it. No one's expecting anything more from you.”

It was funny—it was the same advice Logan had given me the weekend before when we'd been snowboarding at Snow Peak.
Let it go. Have fun.
Was I really so uptight that I couldn't do anything in life without turning it into a competitive event? I had nothing to prove to these people. I wasn't looking for a career in music. I had come here tonight to have a good time. To relieve my stress—not bring about more.

It was then I saw Becca, sitting in the front row, clapping her hands together and whistling loudly. Her eyes were bright and excited. For the first time in a while, I felt like she was on my side.

Suddenly the words from above the archway at school came raging back to me.

What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?

I smiled to myself. I knew very well that I could fail. But I wasn't about to let that stop me this time.

I brought the microphone to my lips. “Hello, Littleton!” I cried. “I'm Alexis Miller. And this is Manic Pixie Dream Girl!”

•  •  •

“Oh my gosh, Lexi, you were so amazing!” Becca squealed for the thousandth time as we boarded the bus on the way back to Mountain Academy. I laughed as my friend danced down the aisle, belting out the chorus to one of the songs. She got a few dirty looks from the other passengers, but she just laughed them off.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” she announced to the entire bus. “Live and in person, this night only! Alexis Miller! Rock star extraordinaire!”

I shoved her playfully into her seat “You do this back at school and I'll kill you!” I swore as we took our seats. Though I had to admit, it felt pretty good. I had totally rocked the open mic, and I knew it. All that practice had paid off. As the bus pulled away, I could still hear the audience's applause echoing in my ears. I was sure to remember this night for years to come. And I was glad Becca had been there to experience it with me. Just like old times.

“Everyone at school is going to be so jealous that I got to see you live,” Becca replied, pulling her phone from her bag and scanning through the pictures she took. “You know, this one would be a perfect profile pic.”

“No way.” I grabbed the phone from her and deleted the close-up of me onstage. “It's bad enough that Coach Basil is playing the demo for people. If anyone found out we snuck off school grounds—never mind me singing in a band—we'd both get suspended.”

“Hey!” Becca grabbed back her phone. “You were the one who said you can't perform well under pressure. I bet singing onstage tonight makes you ten times the snowboarder tomorrow.”

I grinned. “I hope you're right. But still, let's still keep this whole thing off social media, just to be safe?”

Becca nodded resolutely. “Thanks for taking me,” she said. “I really needed that.” She fell silent for a moment, staring out the window. “I guess I've just been feeling the pressure lately, you know? If I don't practice, I won't win. If I don't win . . .” She trailed off.

“If you don't win, you don't win,” I replied with a shrug, surprising myself, even as the words spilled from my lips. “It's not the end of the world.”

Becca turned and looked at me sharply. “Um, who are you and what did you do with my best friend?”

She was right, of course. Before my accident, winning was everything to me. Nothing mattered beyond the mountain. Snowboarding was my reason to get up in the morning. My reason to live. But now, to be perfectly honest, it seemed . . . less important . . . somehow. Not that I didn't love it. But I was starting to love other things too. And that was okay. In fact, that was a good thing.

But that wasn't what I wanted to talk about now.

“Best friend, huh?” I pointed out quietly. “To be honest, I didn't even think I was your friend anymore.”

Becca's face fell. She turned back to the window. But I wasn't giving up so easily. This might be the last chance I had to get her completely alone. I wasn't about to waste it.

“I've missed you, you know,” I told her. “It's not the same without you.”

She was silent for a moment, and at first I was sure she wasn't going to answer. But then she turned to me, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I've missed you, too,” she whispered. “And I know I've been a rotten friend lately. I'm really sorry. It's just . . . well . . . complicated. And I . . .”

Unfortunately, at that moment the bus pulled up at our stop, and the doors creaked open. Worst timing ever. I reluctantly rose from my seat and headed down the aisle, Becca following slowly behind me. We said good-bye to the driver and stepped out into the night.

Once the bus had driven away, I turned back to Becca. “What were you saying?” I asked, not willing to let it drop.

Her face turned bright red. “Oh—nothing,” she stammered. “I'm just sorry, is all.”

Try as I might, I couldn't get anything else out of her. Eventually I just gave up talking altogether. We trudged in silence back toward the school, all the fun of the evening evaporating the closer we got to the gates. It was as if we'd stepped into a dream world for the evening, and now it was time to wake up. I watched Becca from the corner of my eye, wondering what on earth was going on with her. She seemed to want to make up with me, but she wasn't willing to even explain why we'd fallen out to begin with. And how did Olivia play into any of this? I still couldn't figure that part out.

“Well, well, well, look who's best friends again!”

Speak of the devil. I whirled around to find Olivia herself standing behind us, dressed in her ridiculous fur coat, arms crossed over her chest. I glanced at Becca, realizing her face had turned stark white, her eyes wide and terrified.

“We just met on the bus!” she blurted out to my surprise. “I wasn't hanging out with her, I swear!”

I stared at Becca in disbelief. What? Was she really going to deny hanging out with me? What was wrong with her? Why was she so afraid of Olivia?

“Really.” Olivia pursed her lips, regarding the two of us with skeptical eyes. “And I suppose you just randomly met on the bus carrying the exact same souvenir mugs from the exact same place you
didn't
hang out at together?”

Becca stole a guilty glance down at the Bill's collectible coffee mug she held in her hands. The one she insisted we both buy—to remember my big night. She knew she was busted.

“Look, Olivia,” she tried. “It's not what you think.”

But Olivia just rolled her eyes. “No, Becca,” she sneered. “It's not what
I
think. It's what
Lexi
thinks, right? That's what's important here,” she added, her tone ripe with meaning. As if she knew some hidden joke that I didn't.

“What is your problem?” I demanded, whirling around to face Olivia. “Why can't you just leave us alone?” Then I turned back to my friend, my eyes pleading. “Come on, Becca. You're better than this. You don't have to play her games.”

Becca stood for a moment. At last she shook her head. “I've—gotta go,” she stammered. “I've got that . . . conference call, you know.”

“But I thought you already missed . . . ,” I started to say, but realized I was speaking to no one. Becca had fled, leaving me alone with Olivia. My eyes narrowed as I took in her smug expression. She's was having a field day at my expense.

“I don't know what is going on,” I snapped. “But I'm going to find out.”

Olivia laughed, reaching into her pocket for a piece of gum. She popped it into her mouth. “Don't look too hard, Golden Girl,” she purred. “You might not like what you find.”

A
rgh, she just makes me so mad!” I growled, slamming my fork down at dinner the next day. I had taken the bus to meet Logan, and we'd caught a movie, then headed to Bill's, where I'd spent the last hour hanging out with Scarlet and Lulu and Roland, singing with the band. I felt more confident after Coach Basil's pep talk—not to mention last night's performance, and though I knew I was still a total noob, the whole thing was so much fun that I no longer minded messing up from time to time. And none of my bandmates held it against me when I did.

Once band practice was over, Logan took me to this cute little diner a few blocks away that looked straight out of a 1950s sitcom. I ordered an extra-large chocolate milk shake and a grilled cheese sandwich with fries. And let me tell you, to me it tasted better than any prime filet at Jacques's.

Logan gave me a sympathetic look. I sighed.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “Here I've been waiting all week to see you, and now I'm just complaining.”

He smiled at me. “It's okay,” he said. “I'd be mad too.” He picked up his burger. “That girl sounds like nothing but trouble.”

“Seriously. I mean, you'd think after the whole race thing she'd be sitting pretty. But no. She's still working overtime to make sure my life is ruined in every possible way. Girl needs a hobby, for real.”

Logan cocked his head in question. “Wait—what race thing?”