Golden Girl (20 page)

“Maybe I shouldn't do anything,” I said slowly. “I mean, what's done is done; it won't change anything, right?”

Caitlin jerked up. “Are you insane?” she cried. “She hurt you! Like, really bad! You can't just let her get away with it.”

I stared up at the ceiling, not knowing what to say. I thought about what would happen if the whole thing went public. Sure, it would destroy Becca's life, and maybe she deserved that. But what about me? People had finally stopped treating me like an accident victim. Finally stopped bringing the whole thing up in casual conversation. But once this was out there—it would start all over again. Everyone would be talking about it. Everyone would be looking at me with pitying eyes.

Poor Lexi. Sabotaged by her best friend.

I'd have to go before the school board. What if I had to testify in court? I didn't know if I could deal with that on top of everything else that was going on. I wanted to recover, to move on, to forget it ever happened. Not bring it all raging back with a vengeance.

I slipped off the bed and walked over to the computer. I stuck a thumb drive into the USB port and copied the video onto it. Then I deleted it from Olivia's files and closed out of her account.

“I'm going to hold on to this for now,” I told Caitlin. “Until I decide what to do.” At least this way it would keep the decision in my hands. Under my control. And Olivia wouldn't have anything else to hold over Becca's head.

Unless, of course, there were other copies lying around. But I couldn't think about that now.

Caitlin frowned, looking at me, her eyes filled with the very same pity I wanted so desperately to avoid. “You can't just let her get away with this, you know,” she said.

“I know,” I replied in a flat voice. But inside, I wasn't sure.

I
ran to the gear room, tears blinding my vision. I pushed open the door and made a beeline for my locker, my mind whirling with thoughts I didn't want to think. I needed an escape—a chance to lose myself for a few blissful hours. And I knew exactly how to do it. Out on the slopes, all alone, flying mindless and free.

Becca's and my lockers were next to one another. We'd planned it that way after one of the high school students had graduated two years ago, abandoning the storage space adjacent to mine. Becca had claimed it immediately, saying this way we didn't have to pause our conversation for even a moment as we collected our gear on our way out to class.

I remembered sneaking into the gear room, in the middle of the night, just before Becca's eleventh birthday, armed with colored chalk and silk flowers, so she'd have something fun to greet her the next morning. I could practically still hear her squeals of delight as she jumped up and down and hugged me after laying eyes on my handiwork. She'd thought everyone had forgotten her birthday. But I hadn't. I never did. And Becca spent the rest of the day with silk flowers entwined in her hair.

Sighing, I grabbed my board and headed outside, trying not to think as I stomped my way up the side of the hill until I reached the top of the half-pipe. I plopped to the ground, attached my bindings to my feet, and stood up at the edge of the pipe, looking down. The last time I stood here, just before I'd met Logan, I had been paralyzed with fear. Now I wasn't so much afraid as I was sad. So very sad.

I dropped in. I rode the pipe to the bottom. Then I unstrapped my board and headed back up to the top. Up and down. Up and down. Not bothering to stop and catch my breath. Not bothering to care about style or technique as I hit each lip—harder and harder, higher and higher, until I was literally flying through the air on each and every hit.

But eventually gravity and exhaustion ganged up on me and I hit the ground, hard, the shock of ice against bone rocking me to the core. Instead of getting up this time, I lay back, staring up at the sky, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. Why did everything have to be so messed up? Why had everything fallen apart?

“Hey, hey! Are you all right?”

I looked up. Lost in my unhappy thoughts, I hadn't heard someone approach. Not just someone, I realized, but Logan.

I scrambled to my feet, swiping the tears from my eyes. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Caitlin got my number from my mom and called me,” he said. “She told me everything.”

I hung my head. “She shouldn't have done that,” I said. “I told her to keep it a secret.”

“Even from me?”

“Yes. No. I don't know.” I burst into a fresh set of tears. “It's just . . . so embarrassing.”

“For Becca, maybe. But you did nothing wrong.”

I swallowed hard. “I thought she was my friend. My best friend. How do you do something like that to your best friend?” I knew I was babbling but found I couldn't help it.

Logan pulled me into his arms, hugging me tight. “I'm so sorry,” he whispered.

“It's like I keep thinking there must be some mistake,” I went on. “Like maybe Olivia was blackmailing her before all of this too, and forced her to do it.”

Logan pulled away from the hug. “Lexi, I don't know . . .”

“Or maybe she was just trying to slow me down a little, you know? And she grabbed me a bit too hard?”

Logan shook his head. “Lexi, you got seriously hurt. You lost a year of your life. All because some girl—no, not just any girl—your best friend—wanted to win some stupid sporting event. And now you're making excuses for her?”

“It was an important race,” I protested.

He frowned. “Let's say it was the Olympics themselves. And you were in Becca's position. All you'd have to do is pull on her jacket and you could win it all.” His eyes drilled into me. “Would you do it?”

I dropped my gaze to the snowy ground. “No,” I said after a moment. “Of course not.” My dad had instilled in me, at an early age, that a win wasn't a win if you didn't win it fairly.

Oh, Becca . . .
I broke into a fresh round of tears.
Why?

“That's it,” Logan declared. “I'm taking you to Bill's.”

“What?” I looked up, startled.

“If you stay here, you're going to drive yourself crazy. You need something to get your mind off things. Something that doesn't involve dangerous sports in the dark that could injure you.”

“So . . . video games?” I said hesitantly. Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. . . .

He shook his head. “No. Singing.”

•  •  •

And that was how, one hour later, I found myself onstage at Bill's, singing my heart out, with Lulu and Scarlet and Roland accompanying me. If my life were a movie, we would have had a sold-out house, with people screaming and cheering us on as I rocked the mic. But in real life it was a school night and last minute and so there were only a few people there, mostly concentrating on the video games, rather than the show. But it didn't matter. I was onstage. I was pouring all my anger and frustration into the music. And I was already feeling a whole lot better.

What was it Coach Basil had said? How music had healing properties? I'd had no idea how right she'd been. I still hurt, my stomach still felt a little nauseous, but at the same time the whole thing seemed . . . less important . . . somehow. On the mountain, with my friends, snowboarding was everything. Here, it was just another thing. No more or less important than anything else.

As I finished a song and took a swig of my water, I caught Logan standing near the back of the room, watching me and smiling. I grinned back, giving him a thumbs-up.

Becca had done her worst. But I wouldn't let her defeat me. I wouldn't let her—or Olivia, or anyone else—take me down. Keep me from the sport I loved. They didn't deserve to win.

Pride comes before a fall,
Olivia had said. And she'd been right. I'd fallen badly. Both physically and mentally, my golden dream twisting into a black nightmare. It was the worst thing that could have happened to me. And yet, in a weird way, it was also the best.

Before my accident all I had was snowboarding. Winning was a reason to get up in the morning, to live, to breathe, to exist. Take that away and I was nothing, no one.

Not anymore.

I stole a peek at my bandmates. At Logan in the back of the room. My accident had somehow opened up an entire universe of awesome that I had no idea existed beforehand. I felt like some horse who had worn blinders her whole life, and only now could I really see.

Sure, my father might call these things, these people, distractions, but for me they were . . . enhancements. They didn't take me away from the mountain. They made the mountain feel like home.

For the first time since I'd returned to Mountain Academy, broken and scared, I knew I wanted to stay. I wanted to keep snowboarding and maybe get back to where I had been if I could. To keep going for the gold. But if I did end up in the Olympics someday? I'd be competing as a different person than I was before the accident. One who knew Olympic glory was just one single dream. And that real life was filled with hundreds.

I grinned from ear to ear as we launched into my favorite song, my heart feeling very full. Everything was going to be okay. No, everything was going to be—

I froze as the door at the back of the coffee house opened, snow blowing in from outside. The band played on, but the words stuck in my throat, and suddenly I was unable to sing. Unable to move.

My dad stalked up to the makeshift stage, grabbing the mic from my hand.

“Come on, Alexis. We're going home.”

M
y dad didn't speak to me the entire way home. Just drove up the mountain, staring out the windshield, a grim look on his face. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, wanting to explain. Wanting him to understand why I had to be there. What had driven me there in the first place. But I wasn't ready to open up that can of worms. Once he knew what Becca had done, it would start an avalanche of inquiries and investigations that would flip my world upside down. I was finally starting to heal. The last thing I wanted was to yank off the scab and start all over again.

He parked near his staff cabin and stormed inside, not turning to see if I would follow. Half of me wanted to flee—to head back to the dorm and lock the door and ignore his calls. I didn't want to hear what he had to say. But I knew it would only prolong the inevitable. So I gave up the fantasy and slunk inside after him.

He was in the kitchen when I entered, running some kind of nasty green goop through the blender. One of his disgusting kale protein shakes, I realized. Dad's go-to when he was severely stressed out.

“So, yeah. That happened,” I said, at a loss for what to say. I wanted to ask him how he knew I was there, but what did it matter, in the end? He'd found my sanctuary and dragged me away. I hadn't even gotten a chance to say good-bye to Logan. Part of me wondered if I should apologize to him, but at the same time I didn't feel very sorry. I'd done what I'd needed to do—but he would never understand that.

He didn't answer. Just poured the green slime into a tall glass and headed into the living room. I plopped down on the couch, realizing my hands were shaking. I shoved them under my thighs, watching Dad sit across from me in his easy chair, then down his gross drink in one gulp. He set the glass down on the coffee table and shook his head, making a face.

“That bad, huh?” I sighed. But I wasn't sure if I was talking about the drink.

“Maybe I was wrong to not let you spend the winter in Florida,” he said at last, his voice tired and resigned. “I thought it would be good for you to come back. To feel like everything was going to be okay. But you obviously aren't ready. In fact, you don't even seem to care anymore.” He paused, then added, “And if you don't care, why should I?”

I looked at him, horrified. That was so not what I was expecting him to say. “Dad. That's not—”

He waved me off. “It's all right,” he said. “I get it. You don't have to apologize or make excuses to help me feel better. This is your life, Lexi. And you're allowed to live it any way you want to.” He gave me a rueful smile. “You're only thirteen years old. You're allowed to change your mind about what you want for your future.”

“But I haven't changed my mind,” I protested. “And I
am
ready to be back, I swear!”

“Yeah? Well, you have a funny way of showing it,” he said grimly. “Sneaking off to parties, meeting up with boys, going off campus, for goodness' sake, and joining a band? Lexi, any one of these things could get you expelled if you were caught. How is that caring for your future here?”

I hung my head. He made it all sound so bad. How could I explain to him it was just the opposite? That these things had helped my recovery, not hurt it.

“Dad . . .”

“Look, I've called your mother,” he told me. “I've let her know the situation. I'll book you a ticket back to Florida in the morning. You can stay until Christmas break and then you can head home for the rest of the school year.”

“What?” I cried. “No! No, Dad, please! You can't send me away. Not now! I've been working so hard. I'm going to rejoin my class next week. They say I'll be able to compete again really soon.” My voice broke. “Look, I'm sorry. I should have told you about the whole band thing. But it's really no big deal. They're good kids. And music is very healing!”

You have to tell him,
a voice inside of me nagged.
You have to tell him the whole truth or he'll never understand.

But, try as I might, I couldn't get the words out. Couldn't bring myself to admit that I'd lied to him from the beginning. He wouldn't understand. And it would only make things worse.

It was funny. Once upon a time—and not long ago either—I would have loved to have gone back to Florida. To leave this whole nightmare behind me and start fresh. But not anymore. Not after all I'd been through, all I'd learned. I couldn't just quit now.