Golden Girl (21 page)

I couldn't let Olivia—or Becca—win.

L
exi! Over here! Over here!”

My eyelids felt as if they were made of lead as I scanned the cafeteria at breakfast the next morning, my stomach twisting at the strong scent of burning sausage wafting through the air. I spotted my friends, all gathered at our regular table, waving and beckoning me over with an unusual amount of enthusiasm, given the early hour. I sighed and forced my feet to move in the proper direction, feeling as if I was slogging through mud.

It wasn't surprising; I hadn't slept a wink the night before, my mind tormented and my heart aching, thinking about my new future. A future with no more snowboarding. No more singing in the band. No more Logan. It was all too much to think about—and yet I couldn't stop the thoughts from rolling around in my head, chasing away any hope of sleep.

“Oh my gosh, Lexi! We just heard!” Brooklyn cried, interrupting my thoughts of doom and gloom. She leaned across the table, her face shining with eagerness. “I seriously cannot believe it!”

I stared at her with blank and bleary eyes, my mind madly trying to decipher her words. What was she talking about? Did she know about me going back to Florida? I knew word traveled fast at Mountain Academy, but this was ridiculous. “Um, what did you hear?”

“Oh, we heard
everything
,” Jennifer butted in, a fiercely indignant scowl on her face. Then her expression softened. “Poor Lexi. I can't believe you had to go through something like that.”

“You know, I always thought there was something weird about her,” her twin, Jordan, added in a disdainful voice. “But I never expected her to go this far.”

“Some people just can't take the pressure,” Brooklyn sneered. “Pathetic, really. She must have been so jealous of you.”

“Even still,” Jessie chimed in, looking up from her drawing. “Jealous or not—what she did was downright criminal.”

I swallowed hard, looking from friend to friend, confused at first. Then it finally dawned on me exactly what they must have been going on about. Sure enough, I glanced down at Jessie's sketchbook and found a very realistic likeness of Becca, sporting devil's horns and goatee, with the word “CHEATER” scrawled underneath. Oh no.

“Oh. That,” I muttered, my heart dropping to my knees as I slumped to my seat. Seriously, this was the last thing I wanted to deal with today, on top of everything else. “Who told you?” I asked, though I could already guess. Sometimes my roommate was far too “friendly” for her own good.

“Caitlin,” Brooklyn said, sure enough. “But she was really worried about you!” she added, catching my annoyed expression. “When you disappeared last night? She thought something bad had happened to you. She was freaking out, searching the school . . .”

I sighed. Of course she was. Gossip or not, Caitlin was a good friend, and I had been so wrapped up in my own problems I didn't even stop to consider who I'd worry by taking off like I did. I should have texted her and given her a heads-up. Maybe she could have even covered for me, then, when my dad came looking.

My gaze traveled across the table, taking in all my friends' faces. I knew I should be grateful they were all so supportive. But at the same time, it was all too embarrassing. To have something so private and painful be made into such a public spectacle. Even now I could feel the stares of the other students from around the caf. Whispering excitedly about what they'd heard.
Poor Lexi. Betrayed by her best friend.

“Guys, can we talk about something else?” I tried, hating the desperation I heard in my voice. “It's really no big deal. . . .”

“Oh, Lexi!” Jessie threw her arms around me, dragging me into a suffocating embrace. “You don't have to act all strong! You have every right to be hurt! I mean, hello? Your best friend tried to kill you!”

That was it. I squirmed out of the hug, my stomach swimming with nausea. “I've—I've got to go,” I stammered, turning on my heel and fleeing the cafeteria, not caring how much attention I was bringing on myself. I just had to get out of there. Find someplace to be alone with my thoughts.

I somehow ended up in the bathroom, staring at my reflection in the smeared mirror. I looked terrible—hollow eyes, rimmed in black. Dad would have a fit if he saw me in this state. Maybe I should go back to the dorm. Skip breakfast and try to get some sleep. It wasn't as if I was hungry at this point anyway.

I was about to head out of the bathroom when a sob stopped me in my tracks. I whirled around; I hadn't realized I wasn't alone. And from the sound of it, whoever was in here with me was having just as bad a day as I was.

“Um, hello? Are you okay?” I called out, for some reason feeling the need to comfort. Maybe because I couldn't comfort myself.

The sobbing stopped abruptly, as if the person behind the door had clamped a hand over her mouth. I stood, waiting for a moment, then decided maybe she didn't want to talk about it, whatever it was. I could definitely understand that. But just as I turned to leave, I caught a glimpse of shoes under the stall door.

I gasped.

“Becca?” I called, hesitantly, though I already knew the answer. I'd recognize those worn blue Converse anywhere. We'd designed them together on the company's website, special-ordering them back when we were friends and did stuff like that.

“Go away,” Becca's muffled voice begged from behind the stall door.

I frowned. “I think we should talk.”

“I don't want to talk.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning against the counter. “Well, then I don't want to leave the bathroom.”

Silence then. “What do you want from me?”

“I want to know what happened out there on the mountain.”

Becca laughed bitterly. “You already know. Evidently the whole school knows.”

“I didn't tell them, you know,” I tried, in case it made any difference. “I wasn't going to say anything. Seriously.”

“It doesn't matter,” Becca replied. “I want them to know. I want everyone to know what a horrible person I am. It's what I deserve for what I did.”

My heart squeezed at the raw pain I heard clear in her voice. This was my best friend, I reminded myself. I knew her better than anyone else. It didn't matter what they thought she was capable of. I knew the truth. I knew my friend.

“Look, Becca, it's not a big deal,” I pleaded. “I mean, yeah, of course it is,” I amended, realizing how stupid that sounded. “But I know you would never do something like that on purpose. And that's what I'm going to tell everyone, okay? It wasn't your fault. They'll have to understand. It was just an accident. It could have happened to anyone.”

I paused, waiting, my breath solidifying in my throat. But no sound came from the stall.

“Becca, please!” I implored, not wanting to give up. “I love you. You're my best friend. Just tell me it was an accident and we never have to talk about it again. You don't have to avoid me and we can be friends again and you don't have to feel guilty about anything.” I knew I was babbling but found I couldn't help it. “Just say something!” I blurted. “Anything! Please!”

The door slowly opened. Becca stepped out, her makeup smeared and her face stained with tears. She met my eyes with her own.

“It wasn't an accident,” she said in a hoarse voice, then pushed by me and out the door.

I
got the text from my father just after lunch. Requesting that I meet him at the repair hut before I headed out for my afternoon classes on the slope. With heavy feet and an even heavier heart I trudged my way through the snow, pushing open the door with reluctance.

My dad stood in the doorway, his face grave. Without a word he grabbed me and pulled me into a huge hug, practically squeezing the life out of me. I struggled at first, but the warmth of his arms after such a rotten twenty-four hours ultimately felt too good to resist. I found myself burying my face in his chest, rejoicing in his familiar Old Spice scent, allowing myself, for one blissful moment, to be a kid again—and to believe Daddy could make everything okay.

But the hug ended too soon. And things were still not okay. Dad took me by the hand and led me over to the folding chairs. Then he pushed a cup of steaming hot chocolate into my hands. Extra marshmallows, I noted dully. It was that kind of day.

“Oh, Lexi,” he said, reaching over and squeezing my hand. His eyes were filled with regret. “I'm so sorry. You should have told me. I would have understood. Now it all makes sense, all your recent behavior. You must have been freaking out. And then for me to punish you . . .” He trailed off, looking anguished.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Of course. Becca's story was all over school—it was only a matter of time before the faculty got wind of it. “Dad . . .”

“You know, I blame myself,” he interrupted. “I should have realized you'd never just fall on a jump like that. You're far too good to be making those kinds of mistakes. I should have known there was something else going on.” He looked at me imploringly. “Why didn't you tell me, sweetheart? I could have done something. At the very least gotten that girl kicked out of school. The fact that she has gotten away with it all this time . . . Still competing. Still racking up points . . .”

I wondered, for a split second, what he'd do if I just stood up and walked out of the repair hut. I so did not want to have to deal with this. Not now. Not ever, to be honest.

“I can't imagine how you must feel,” Dad continued. “To have your best friend do something like that to you? You must feel so betrayed.”

I squirmed in my seat. “Things happen,” I managed to say. “But really, Dad, I just want to move on and forget it.”

Dad frowned. “Honey, you can't just let her get away with something like that. She has to be held accountable for what she did.”

I thought of Becca in the bathroom stall, crying her eyes out. “Dad,” I tried, switching tactics. “It doesn't matter. I'm going home to Florida, remember? This is all going to be over soon.”

“No.” Dad shook his head. “It won't be. Not as long as she's still on the mountain. I mean, what if she decided to do something like this again? To someone else? And what if something worse happens to her next victim?”

Ugh. I set down my hot chocolate, no longer in the mood to drink it. I wanted to argue that Becca had surely learned her lesson. That she would never do something like that again. But how did I know for sure? I would have said the same thing the first time around—that there was no way Becca would ever try to take me out. But she had. She'd admitted it. She'd even admitted she'd done it on purpose. And if she was willing to hurt her best friend in order to score a win, what would stop her from doing something even worse to an actual enemy?

But still, this was Becca. . . .

“There will be a disciplinary hearing tomorrow morning,” my dad informed me. “The dean and the school board will be there. They want to hear exactly what happened.”

I frowned. Evidently the powers that be must not have heard there was an actual video. Otherwise why bother getting testimony—they could simply see what had happened firsthand. I wondered if I should mention this little detail to my dad, but then decided against it. I needed to keep it on the down-low until I decided what to do. If they saw the video, Becca would be expelled on the spot. Her snowboarding future would be over forever. Was I really ready to go there?

“Please don't make me do this!” I begged, knowing, even as I said the words, they would probably do no good.

Sure enough, my dad just shook his head. “I'm sorry, sweetie. But you don't have a choice. As a student of this school, you're required to go in front of the disciplinary committee and tell them the truth. If you do not, well, you're going to find yourself in as much trouble as Becca.”

T
hat evening a huge storm rolled in—the biggest, baddest nor'easter to hit Vermont in the last ten years—or so the weathermen said. It socked the resort full force all night long—wild wind, heavy snow—and when I woke up the next morning, it was still raging, the world outside my window completely lost in a whirlwind of white.

As I rolled out of bed, I found Caitlin at the window, dressed in her black flannel pajamas, peering outside. She turned to me. “Snow day!” she exclaimed, her eyes gleaming. “All classes canceled!”

I raised an eyebrow. “What about training sessions?”

Caitlin shook her head, her black braids swinging from side to side. “The lifts are closed,” she informed me. “They can't run them in these kinds of winds. Not to mention they're predicting like five feet of snow. The biggest storm of the year for sure. Maybe even the decade.”

“Wow. That's crazy,” I said, joining her at the window, which was crusted with ice and snow. You couldn't even see the ground below. It was likely no one would be allowed out of the dorm until the storm moved on.

Which seemed fine to Caitlin, who danced over to her bed, throwing herself down and yanking the covers over her head. “I'm going to sleep until noon,” she declared in a muffled voice under the blankets.

“Good idea,” I agreed, heading back to my own bed. But before I could crawl in, my cell phone beeped, signaling a text. Reluctantly I grabbed it off my nightstand, groaning when I read the message.

Meeting still on. Admin building 10am.

“Something wrong?” Caitlin asked.

“They're still having the disciplinary committee meeting,” I said with a sigh. “I thought it'd be canceled.” All the joy I'd felt from the snowstorm immediately melted away, and a heaviness sank into my stomach.

Caitlin popped her head out from under the covers. “Probably better to get it over with,” she suggested, her voice filled with sympathy. “Right?”