Golden Girl (23 page)

“Becca.” I gestured feebly to the vacant spot where my friend had just been. “She's upset. I'm afraid she's going to do something stupid. I have to go after her.”

I pushed by him, slipping and sliding my way over to the second snowmobile. Straddling the machine, I forced myself to focus on the instrument panel in a desperate attempt to figure out how to turn it on. I could recognize the key in the ignition, but beyond that I was admittedly clueless. My pulse skittered as I looked up and out into the raging blizzard. I had to get this to work—now—or I'd lose her trail in the fog.

Suddenly a shadow crossed my vision. “Move back,” Logan commanded. “I'll drive.”

I let out a sigh of relief as he slid on in front of me and revved the motor. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I held on tight as the snowmobile roared to life and we took off into the blizzard. From behind me, I could hear my father calling again, begging me to come back inside, but I ignored him. I had no time to explain. No time to even grab a coat. All I could hope was he'd call the cavalry. Get the ski patrol on the mountain to help me, just in case. Though, truth be told, their chances of finding us somewhere on the massive mountainside, completely wrapped in fog, were slim to none. Which was why I couldn't lose Becca's trail.

“She went that way!” I shouted in Logan's ear, pointing into the storm. Logan nodded, steering the snowmobile in the direction of my hand, and soon we found ourselves racing up the empty mountainside, through thick snow and hard wind. My unprotected ears burned, and I had to close my eyes to keep out the snow. Thank goodness someone had left a pair of goggles on the snowmobile or Logan never would have been able to see. I buried my bare fingers into his jacket pockets, praying it wouldn't take long to catch up to Becca. With temperatures continuing to drop, one could easily lose fingers and ears to frostbite. And neither Becca nor I were wearing jackets, gloves, or hats.

As we gained elevation, the fog thickened, cutting visibility in half. My heart raced in my chest along with the roar of the snowmobile. How were we ever going to find Becca in this storm? Holding a hand over my eyes, I scanned the landscape. Finally, I recognized a faint light in the distance—snowmobile headlights—heading northwest.

“There!” I cried. “That's her. I think I know where she's going!” I shouted directions in Logan's ears, praying my instincts were right.

Logan revved the engine again, picking up speed. I held on tight as we rode up the mountain in bumpy waves. Soon we reached the top of Mesquite Way, the infamous snowboard cross course where it had all begun. The starting gates were nearly buried in snow, and the course flags had all blown over in the wind.

Then I saw it. Becca's snowmobile, parked under a tree.

“Becca!” I cried, as Logan slowed his own snowmobile to a stop. Without pause I dove off and started running toward the vehicle, scanning the area for some sign of my friend. “Becca, where are you?”

But the wind stole my words as quickly as I spoke them. And there was no answer.

I ran back to Logan. “Do you have your cell?” I asked. I had to get a message to ski patrol—to let them know where we were. But I'd left my phone in the conference room.

He reached into his pocket and pulled his out. “No signal,” he said grimly. “The storm must have knocked the cell tower out.”

“Becca!” I tried again, scanning the landscape. I ran across the top of the trail, my boots filling with snow and my toes curling with cold. My ears and fingers had already lost all feeling, and the icy wind stung my cheeks and brought tears to my eyes. But still I kept searching. I wouldn't give up. I couldn't give up. Not until I found her. Not until I made sure she was safe.

“Here, Lexi. Take my coat!” Logan cried. I hadn't realized he'd come up behind me. He shoved the parka at me. I looked at it, then at him.

“But what about you?” He was only wearing a fleece jacket underneath. Which was more than I had, but still!

“I'll be fine,” he assured me. “Just take it. You're turning blue.”

I looked down at my hands and realized he was right. Reluctantly I allowed him to slip the jacket over my shivering frame, rejoicing in the warmth of the down wrapping around my body like a hug. Logan pulled off his hat and stuck it on my head. His hair stood straight up in crazy angles—which would have made me laugh if I wasn't ready to cry. I dug my fingers into the coat pockets and tried to flex them back to feeling. I wondered how Becca was faring out there, also completely underdressed for the weather. I needed to find her—and soon.

“You need to go get help!” I cried. “Go get the ski patrol. Let them know where we are.”

“You can't stay up here by yourself,” he argued. “It's too dangerous.”

“I've got your coat,” I reminded him. “And I'm not about to leave Becca. Please!” I begged. “I'll find her and I'll bring her over to the announcer's shack over there. There's a little battery-powered space heater for chilly race days. We'll wait for you there.”

He looked as if he wanted to argue, but to his credit he only nodded his head. “Okay,” he said. “I'll be back as soon as I can.” His eyes locked on mine. “Be careful, Lexi.”

“I will.”

And with that, he leaped back on the snowmobile, revved the engine, and took off down the hill. I watched him go for a moment. Then I forced myself back to the mission at hand.

“Becca!” I cried out, stomping through the snow. “Where are you, Becca?”

“Lexi?” The wind was so strong I almost missed the small, scared voice. But then it came again. “Help me!” she whispered.

It was then that I saw her, clutching a tree, shivering uncontrollably. I ran to her, grabbing her in my arms and holding her tight. “Put your hands in your armpits,” I instructed. “It'll help warm them up.”

She obeyed without question, and I led her over to the announcer's shack, praying the heater was indeed inside. A moment later we were stepping through the door, closing it behind us to cut off the wind. With frozen fingers I found the heater and switched it on. Soon it began to glow red, and I allowed myself a much-needed breath.

I rummaged around the cramped shack, locating a couple of probably stale granola bars and a few heat packets stashed in a drawer. I tossed one bar and two packets at Becca. “Once you've defrosted a little, you can try a couple of these,” I told her, remembering the snow-survival lessons we'd learned in school. “But too much heat too soon might aggravate any frostbite you might have.” I began to yank off Logan's coat to put it around her.

“What are you doing? You'll freeze!” she protested.

“I'm okay,” I assured her, but an involuntary shiver gave my lie away.

“We could share,” she suggested timidly. “Remember? Like we used to for fun when we were kids?”

I nodded, dropping down beside her and slipping one arm out of Logan's coat. Becca slid up next to me, then slipped her arm into the empty sleeve. We cuddled up next to one another and were actually able to zip the coat around us. It was a little snug, but I figured our joint body heat could only help.

“Just hang in there, Becca,” I instructed, cuddling close to try to warm us both up. “My friend Logan went to get help. He should be back any minute now with the ski patrol. We just have to hold on a little longer.”

Becca nodded numbly. Then she turned to me, her eyes filled with tears. “I'm so sorry, Lexi,” she sniffled. “To drag you out here like this . . . after everything I've already done to you.” She closed her eyes, looking miserable. “I'm the worst friend ever.”

I didn't say anything for a moment.

“What happened, Becca?” I asked. “You said it wasn't an accident—what does that mean? Did you do it on purpose? Did I do something to make you want to take me down?”

“It wasn't like that!” Becca protested. “I swear—it had nothing to do with you at all. You did nothing wrong, Lexi. You just wanted to win the race. You deserved to win the race.” Her voice broke. “But I was so stupid. So desperate.”

She broke off. I waited for a moment, then said, “Maybe you should start from the beginning.”

She nodded, reaching up to brush an icy tear from her eye. The heater was kicking in, but the floor was still cold, and wisps of wind snuck in through the cracks in the walls.

“I guess it began with a conference call I had with my parents and Coach Merkin the week before,” Becca said. “He told them I wasn't progressing the way I should be. That he believed I didn't have it in me to go all the way. That keeping me in school was only wasting time and money.”

“Ouch.” I made a face. “Why didn't you tell me that?”

She shrugged. “I wanted to,” she assured me. “But you were so busy that week with your training. You were so focused—so, in the zone. I didn't want to distract you with my silly problems.”

“But if I had known . . .” I trailed off, not sure what I wanted to say. If I had known, would it have made a difference? Would I have volunteered to lose the race on purpose to help Becca stay in school? Everything inside of me wanted to believe I would have. But deep inside, I wasn't so sure. After all, back then winning was everything to me. Would I have been willing to take a loss to save a friend?

“Just so you know, I didn't plan it out or anything,” Becca added fervently. “Not like it makes what I did any better, but I didn't. I went into the race assuming I'd lose, like always. And then my parents would take me home and it would all be behind me. Except . . .” She sighed. “Except by some miracle I found myself neck and neck with you and Olivia on that final jump. I guess because of all the stuff she'd been doing to sabotage you, you'd both ended up slowing down. And as we approached the jump, I had this sudden feeling like maybe I could prove everyone wrong. Maybe I could win this thing and prove to my coach and parents that I belonged here after all.”

“And so you grabbed my jacket,” I concluded.

“I was going to,” she admitted. “But then at the last minute I changed my mind. I couldn't do that to you. You worked so hard to get where you were. And even though I was crazy jealous, I couldn't bring myself to deliberately hurt my best friend.”

“But . . . the video . . .”

Her face turned bright red. “By the time I decided not to do it, it was too late. I had lost my balance, and I knocked into you by accident. That caused your fall. I know that sounds really convenient. But it's the truth. Not that I expect anyone to believe me now.”

“Oh, Becca . . .”

“And then you hit that tree.” She squeezed her eyes shut, obviously remembering. “Oh, Lexi, you don't know what it was like to watch that. To know it was all my fault. Because of my jealousy. My stupidity.” She shook her head. “I wanted to go see you immediately,” she added. “To apologize and confess everything. But I was too scared. Not only about being kicked out of school or whatever—but about you knowing what I had done.”

She hung her head. “My parents were so proud, which only made it worse. We're not rich, and they've sacrificed a lot to send me here. To see the looks on their faces as they told the coach he was wrong and that I deserved to stay . . . well, I couldn't disappoint them.

“It wasn't until the next day that I learned Olivia knew what I had done. She told me if I didn't do what she said, she'd release the video, taken by one of her Boarder Barbies. I think she thought it would be funny—to have me in her club. A big slap in the face for when you came back to school. And I went along with it, like an idiot.” She shook her head. “I think at that point I would have done anything in the world to keep you from finding out.

“Anyway,” she said with a shrug. “Now you know what happened. And just so you know, I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't deserve for you to forgive me. In fact, I deserve for you to hand over that video to the school board or the police or whomever you think should have it. Let them see what I did. And when they come to me, I won't deny that I did it. It doesn't matter if it was an accident in the end. I'm still responsible.”

I swallowed hard. The truth was out there now, stark and undeniable. And it was still up to me to decide what to do about it. Should I turn her in? Make her answer for what she'd done? Or let her walk away—allowing her own guilt to serve as the ultimate punishment?

I didn't know. I just didn't know.

“I'm sorry, Lexi,” Becca said at last. “I know that sounds stupid and lame. But I am sorry. I'm really, really sorry.”

And she was. I saw that she was. She was living under a mountain of regret, feeling powerless to do anything about it. Suddenly I realized exactly what I needed to do. Drawing in a long breath, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the thumb drive.

“Take it,” I said.

She stared down at the drive, then at me. “Is that . . . ?”

“It's the video,” I confirmed. “I don't know for sure if it's the only one, but I took it off Olivia's computer and deleted her copy. So it's yours now. Do what you think is right to do.”

D
espite the storm, or maybe because of it, word had spread like wildfire, and it seemed like half of Mountain Academy was gathered at the bottom of the mountain as ski patrol escorted us to safety. It was more than a bit embarrassing to be seen being dragged down the mountain on a rescue sled once again, but the warm blankets they'd wrapped around us to keep out the chill more than made up for the humiliation factor. By the time we reached the bottom, the storm had subsided somewhat; the winds had calmed, and there was even a hint of the sun itself, shyly peeking out from behind a cloud, as if apologizing for its recent absence.

We were both taken to the ER in neighboring Paddington. I was discharged almost immediately, with just a small patch of frostbite on my right hand. When I exited, I found my dad, wearing out the waiting room floor, pacing nervously back and forth. I wondered, for a moment, if he was going to yell at me for foolishly running off into a storm like I had. But then I caught the look of relief on his face as his eyes fell on me.