Golden Girl (22 page)

“I guess so,” I said, heading over to my dresser to pull out some clothes. “Though I still don't know what I'm going to say.”

Caitlin shot up in bed. “You have to tell the truth, Lex,” she reminded me, her eyes wide and serious. “If you lie to them, they could kick you out of school.”

“Yeah, well, I'm pretty much gone regardless, thanks to my dad,” I muttered as I pulled out a pair of jeans and stuck my feet in the legs. “And hey, maybe it's for the best.”

“Alexis Miller!” Caitlin said in a shocked voice. “You don't mean that. I know you don't mean that.”

I whirled around to face my roommate. “Don't I? I'm not so sure anymore. I mean, when I think about what this school has done to people. What it's made them do to others . . .”

“You can't blame Mountain Academy for that,” Caitlin argued stubbornly. “There are going to be nasty people no matter where you go. That's just how life is. I mean, sure, maybe things are more intense here, but not everyone's like Becca or Olivia.”

I hung my head. “I guess so. But . . .”

“Think of all our friends. Brooklyn, Jessie, the twins. Even Dante. Everyone supports one another. We cheer each other on. No one is trying to sabotage or tear anyone else down to get ahead.”

I frowned. I knew, in my heart, she was right, as much as it pained me to admit it. “I know,” I said. “I didn't mean it anyway. I'm just . . .” I glanced over at my roommate, a lump forming in my throat. “I'm just scared. I don't know what to do.”

Caitlin got out of bed and headed over to me, giving me a huge hug. “I know,” she said, stroking my hair. “You don't want to ruin Becca's life. But Lexi, this is as much for Becca as it is for you. What she did . . . It was obviously a cry for help. And you covering for her is not going to get her what she needs.”

“I know,” I said quietly, letting out a deep sigh. “I know.”

And I did know. Suddenly I knew exactly what had to be done. Even if it was the last thing I wanted to do.

A
s soon as I stepped outside of the dorm, I realized why classes and training had been canceled. In fact, the storm was so strong it nearly knocked me over as I inched my way across campus, my mood as heavy as my feet. The cold air bit at my ears, and the gale-force wind pushed hard against me, as if trying to convince me to turn back, but still I forced myself to press on.
It's for the best,
I tried to tell myself.
For everyone—even Becca.
I said the mantra over and over again, in rhythm with my steps.

My dad was standing inside the front door of the admin building, peering out the window. He waved as he saw me approach and pushed open the door. Returning the gesture with reluctance, I trudged up the steps and through the doorway.

“Are you ready for this?” Dad asked as we walked down a long, featureless hallway on our way to Becca's hearing. He glanced down at me, and I caught the pity in his eyes. I gave a small shrug, feeling as if I was a prisoner on death row—dead girl walking to the electric chair. I tried to remind myself that it would be Becca, not me, in this case, who would fry. But that thought only made me feel worse.

“I really don't want to do this,” I muttered, half to myself.

“I know.” Dad reached over to squeeze my hand. “But sometimes we have to do things we don't want to—because it's the right thing to do.”

I sighed deeply.

“It won't be that bad,” he added in his glass-half-full voice. “You just have to go in and tell the truth.”

Tell the truth. He made it sound so easy. Tell the truth and ruin another person's life. The life of my best friend. I thought of Becca, lying in the snow just a few days before, crying her eyes out because she couldn't meet her coach's expectations. Her dreams were as big as mine had ever been. And now I was going to be forced to stomp on them and crush them under my heel.

We stopped at a door at the end of the hall, and Dad gestured for me to enter. For some reason I had envisioned a courtroomlike setting—something out of a TV drama—where I'd literally have to take the stand and swear on a Bible or whatever. But as I stepped inside, I realized we were meeting in nothing more than a sparse conference room—one long wooden table flanked by red-cushioned chairs and ancient-looking teleconferencing equipment serving as a centerpiece. On the far wall there was a coffee service, complete with a bowl of fruit and a tray of muffins. But though I had eaten nothing since the night before, there was no way I could stomach any of it.

I took my seat at the far end of the table while my dad set about making himself a cup of coffee. The silence stretched on, and I twisted my hands together as I waited in agony, watching for the door to open again. I didn't know who to expect—my coaches? The school board? Maybe Moonbeam Vandermarkson himself? Who would serve as judge and jury in the case of Rebecca Montgomery v. Alexis Miller?

I didn't have to wait long. The door creaked open, and my breath caught in my throat as none other than Becca herself stepped into the room. I swallowed hard; I hadn't realized she'd be here too, witnessing my testimony firsthand. This had suddenly gone from bad to worse.

Becca was wearing a plain black suit, and her hair was pulled back into a severe bun. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and her cheeks looked gaunt and sunken. She plopped into a chair across from me, avoiding my eyes, her parents flanking her on either side, also dressed in formal suits. Suddenly I felt a bit self-conscious about my casual red sweater and jeans. Her parents whispered to one another fiercely as Becca sat between them, staring down at her hands. The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

The silence stretched on, becoming more and more unbearable. I felt as if I was pulling off a Band-Aid the slowest way possible. The longer I sat there, the more my resolve was going to melt away. The more sorry I was going to feel for my best friend, sitting miserably across the room.

She needs help, too,
I tried to remind myself.
I'm doing this for her.

But even as I said the words, all I could think about was that first day in school. When Becca had bravely approached, chocolate milk in hand, sitting down next to me in the cafeteria when no one else would. Or the time in fifth grade when I'd lost a really big race and she'd made a homemade voodoo doll with a remarkable likeness to Olivia. The thing looked like a porcupine when we were done with it. And then there was the day my parents announced they were getting a divorce. Becca went and stole an entire package of my favorite Oreo cookies and a gallon of milk from the caf. We'd had a
Parent Trap
marathon and lamented that if only I'd had a twin, things could have worked out differently.

It was hard to believe that same girl I once shared milk and cookies with had tried to ruin my life.

At that moment the door opened again, and the dean of Mountain Academy, along with the school board, filed into the room, taking their seats. I squirmed in my chair. My father reached over and squeezed my hand under the table, giving me a reassuring look. Truth be told, it didn't help much.

“I think you all know why we're gathered here this morning,” Dean Johnson began, pulling out a thick file folder and setting it on the table. “There have been some serious allegations made against a student that relate to another student's safety. And I don't think I have to remind anyone how seriously we take safety here at Mountain Academy.”

The board members all mumbled their assent.

Dean Johnson turned to Becca and her parents. “It has been alleged that your daughter deliberately sabotaged Alexis Miller during a snowboard cross event last winter, resulting in a crash that injured Miss Miller and kept her out of school for the remainder of the year.”

He paused. I saw tension flicker in Becca's father's jaw. Her mother burst into tears. Becca just stared down at the table, her hands squeezed into fists.

“Rebecca has always been a model student at Mountain Academy,” her father began in a defensive voice. “You can check her records. She has a clean slate. She's never once had any disciplinary action taken against her.”

The school board members turned to the dean. He nodded. “It's true,” he said, glancing down at the file folder in front of him. “Rebecca has never been in any trouble before. However—”

“What I want to know is why we're just hearing about this now?” Becca's mother interrupted angrily. “This whole thing took place a year ago and it was thoroughly investigated at the time. Alexis here said it was an accident. That she fell on her own accord. So why is she suddenly changing her story?” She glared at me, her eyes filled with suspicion.

“Could it be because of Becca's newfound success?” her father suggested, his voice thick with the implication. He gave me a knowing look, and I stared back at him in horror. What was he trying to say?

The dean raised an eyebrow. “Can you elaborate on that?”

Becca's father nodded. “Look, it's no secret that my daughter was awarded a coveted place on the snowboard cross team once Miss Miller was injured. Miss Miller's spot, to be exact. She also received a bunch of new sponsors. Sponsors that might have signed with Miss Miller, if she had not been injured.” He frowned and his voice took on a patronizing tone. “I think we can all imagine how hard it must be to return to school and see someone else doing so well, while you're relegated to the bottom of the pack.” He gave me a pitying look. “She's always been the golden one. And to see my daughter take her place . . . well, I'm sure you can see what I'm saying here.”

I stared at him, anger and shock warring for dominance. Oh, I could see what he was saying all right, but I couldn't believe he was saying it. Could he really be trying to get them all to believe that I was making this up—because I was jealous of Becca's success? I mean, her success was the reason I lied in the first place!

“How can you even say that?” I demanded, rising from my seat. I could feel my father grabbing at my hand, but I shook him off. “Becca's my best friend! I'd never sell her out like that—just to get ahead. That's crazy!”

“Lexi, sit down!” my father hissed.

I ignored him, turning to the school board. “You want to hear the truth?” I demanded. “Well, here it is. Yes, I knew someone had sabotaged me from the beginning. I thought it was Olivia Masters. And the reason I didn't tell anyone? Because I wanted to protect Becca. She won the race. She got the spot on the team. I was so proud of her. I didn't want it to be ripped away. And so I kept quiet. I said nothing so that she could continue succeeding. Because she deserved to win. At least that's what I thought at the time. . . .”

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Becca's white face. Her horrified eyes. But I found I couldn't stop. The anger I hadn't even realized was there, deep inside, was now raging like a fiery inferno. At that moment I hated Becca. I hated her for what she'd done to me. The position she'd put me in. I hated her for destroying our friendship. For taking everything from me and not even telling me what I did to deserve it.

“Becca sabotaged me,” I said flatly. “She admitted it and told me it wasn't an accident. I don't know what made her do it. I don't know if I did something to make her want to destroy my life or if it was just a spur-of-the-moment act. But she grabbed my jacket. She made me fall.”

I collapsed back onto my seat, exhausted, hurt, betrayed. There, I'd said it. That was all I could do, short of handing over the actual video. Which I supposed I would do, if I had to.

“You can't just take her word for it!” cried Becca's father, his voice now full of hysteria. “She's jealous! She's trying to knock out the competition. You can't let her rob my daughter of her dream of Olympic glory!”

“My dream? It's
your
dream, Dad!”

I looked up, surprised, to find Becca had risen to her feet. She stared down at her father with hatred in her eyes.

“It's
your
dream and it's always been
your
dream!” Becca cried. “And I'm sick of trying to live up to your insane expectations. Do you know what it's like? To try so hard to please you? I'm not like Lexi—I'm not a natural-born medal winner. And I never will be. But you can't accept that. You never could!”

And with that, she fled the room, the door banging shut behind her. Everyone looked at one another dumbly. Becca's father, ashen faced. Her mom crying.

Only I got out of my seat and ran after my friend.

T
ears blinded my vision as I raced down the long hallway, sprinting as fast as I could after Becca. Behind me, I could hear my dad calling me back, but I ignored him, completely focused on catching up to Becca before I lost her in the storm.

Bursting through the doorway at the end of the hall, full force into the violent wind, I found myself slamming into something solid—make that someone—coming through the door in the opposite direction. As I flailed, losing my balance on the icy steps, strong hands gripped me by the shoulders, keeping me upright.

“Thanks,” I cried as I planted my feet back down on the steps. “I'm sorry I—”

The words died in my throat as my eyes caught those of my rescuer. “Logan?” I cried. “What are you doing here?”

“I drove up with my brother to pick up my mom. They've closed the mountain and the buses aren't running so she needed a ride back home.” He stared down at me, a concerned look on his face. “Are you okay? Is something—”

The roar of a motor cut short his questions. My eyes jerked, just in time to see Becca jump on a nearby snowmobile and take off into the storm. Oh no. I looked back at Logan helplessly, then at the white whirlwind Becca had left in her wake.