Golden Girl (9 page)

“Yeah, what do you say, Lex?” added Lulu, shoving Logan out of the way to get on my other side. “Want to be rock stars together?”

“Why not,” I declared, leaning against the two of them with as much girl power as I could muster. “At least for the next hour or so.”

Whooping loudly, the girls yanked me to my feet and started twirling me around. Roland struck up a fast-paced punk song to match us, and we started dancing madly to the beat, tripping and laughing over one another with bull-in-a-china-shop-style grace. Soon a few others joined in, and suddenly we had an impromptu mountainside dance party going on around the fire. I half wondered, as Scarlet spun me around, how long it would take for someone to fall in and get burned.

For a moment Logan watched us, amusement dancing in his eyes, then his attention turned to something just behind us. I twirled around to see a tall, black-haired guy standing off to the side, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked older, like he was already in high school. He also looked somewhat familiar. Did he work on the mountain somewhere?

“Hunter!” Logan greeted him, rising. “Where've you been all night, bro?”

The guy—Hunter—raised an eyebrow. “In the park, of course,” he replied. “Where I assumed you would have been.” His eyes fell upon me, critical and cold. “And what do we have here?”

“Lexi, this is Hunter,” Logan said, introducing me, and either not noticing the look or refusing to acknowledge it. “He works on the mountain with my older brother, Chris. Hunter, this is my new friend Lexi.”

I held out my hand, but Hunter just gave it a dismissive glance, then turned back to Logan. “Can I talk to you?” He paused, then added, “Alone?”

“Uh, sure.” Logan said, glancing at me apologetically. “You cool here for a sec?”

“Yeah, I'm fine,” I assured him, my heart starting to beat faster in my chest, though I wasn't sure why.

Hunter grabbed Logan by the arm and dragged him a few feet away. They should have been out of hearing range, but mountains had tricky acoustics sometimes, and I could still hear everything he was saying from where I stood.

“What were you thinking, bringing her here?” he was demanding. “Don't you know she's one of them?”

“Uh, define ‘one of them.' ”

Hunter leveled his gaze upon my new friend. “Do you even know who she is? Who her
father
is?”

“Darth Vader?” Logan asked hopefully, and it was all I could do not to giggle, even as the unease rose in my throat. Hunter knew who my father was. Which meant he knew who I was. So much for anonymity land.

Hunter groaned. “No, you moron. Bruce Miller,” he spit out. “You know, best friends forever with Cy Masters, the guy who owns this place? The one who signs your mom's paycheck every week?”

“So?”

“So everyone in this little shindig is going to get busted once she goes home and blabs about our secret spot to dear old dad.” He scowled, then added, “You'll see. Tomorrow this place will be swarming with ski patrol.”

“I wouldn't do that,” I blurted out, forgetting for a second I wasn't supposed to be hearing any of this. But how dare Hunter accuse me of something like that? He didn't know me. He didn't know anything about me. How dare he try to scare Logan off?

“Sure you wouldn't, sweetheart,” Hunter sneered, glancing over at me. Then he turned back to Logan, cuffing him on the head. “Nice work, dude. Wait till I tell Chris.”

And with that, he turned and stormed off back toward the slopes, dragging his snowboard behind him. I watched him go, steam practically coming out of my ears.

Logan approached me, an apologetic look on his face. “Don't listen to him,” he chided me. “He can be a real jerk.” Then he smiled shyly. “And I'm glad you're here.”

“I wouldn't tell my dad,” I said again, not sure why I was still arguing the fact.

“I know you wouldn't,” Logan assured me. He slung an arm around me, squeezing my shoulder with his hand. It was a friendly gesture, but my stomach warmed inside all the same. “Now come on. I think there's marshmallows around here somewhere. And I make a killer s'more.”

There were indeed, and soon we were knee deep in melted marshmallow and chocolate as we watched the riders and skiers take on the park, Roland's guitar sound-tracking the night. Some of the riders were amazingly good, I realized, and a few could probably rival the Mountain Academy teams themselves. Which was pretty incredible, since they were, as Logan informed me, completely self-trained.

“We used to have a ski team at school,” he told me. “Sponsored by Green Mountain. But they cut funding two years ago. Along with the free-lift-ticket program for the staff's families.” He frowned. “Makes it a lot harder for us to get on the mountain now to do any training.”

I opened my mouth to ask why the program had been cut, but a sudden roar cut off my words, followed by blinding white lights streaming through the trees. The party erupted in chaos, everyone leaping to their feet as four snowmobiles approached the scene.

“Ski patrol!” someone screamed.

All around us, partygoers started strapping on their boards and skis and flying down the mountain, abandoning the fire and supplies in an effort to avoid getting caught. Logan looked at me, white-faced, and gestured for me to put on my board.

“Quick!” he cried. “We have to get out of here!”

My heart pounded in my chest as I looked from him to my board, then down the steep hill. This was not good. Not good at all.

Logan paused, in the middle of strapping his board to his feet. “Lexi?” he queried, his voice filled with anxiety.

I swallowed hard. “Go on without me,” I told him. “I'll catch up.”

To my surprise, Logan started unstrapping his board.

“What are you doing?”

‘I'm not leaving you.”

My heart leaped at his words. “But you have to!”

“Come on, Logan!” Hunter appeared from out of nowhere, board already strapped to his feet. “Chris will kill me if I let you get caught again. Remember what ski patrol said last time.”

But Logan just stubbornly shook his head, digging his board into the snow. “I'm staying with Lexi.”

“Fine.” Hunter rolled his eyes. “Your funeral,” he muttered, pushing off down the mountain. But just as he was about to break free, a snowmobile cut him off, forcing him to stop in his tracks.

“Hold it right there,” the ski patrol member commanded, climbing off the snowmobile and heading over to Hunter. I held my breath, my heart slamming against my rib cage.

“We're looking for a missing Mountain Academy student,” the ski patrol informed Hunter. “Have you seen a girl named Alexis Miller?”

Hunter turned slowly, his cold eyes leveling on me. My heart dropped to my knees.

“I'm Lexi,” I said, stepping forward, toward the ski patrol. At that moment, a fifth snowmobile pulled up behind the others, and the rider yanked off his helmet.

It was Dad.

“Lexi,” my dad said in a tight voice. “Get on and let's go.”

And so much for rock stardom. Or, you know, even a shred of normalcy.

I turned to Logan, tears in my eyes, and my face full of apology. “I'm so sorry,” I whispered. “I had no idea he'd follow me up here.”

I waited for the look of regret—or disapproval, to match the one his friend was wearing. Instead, Logan only gave me a small smile. “It's okay,” he whispered back. “It was worth it.”

My heart pounded in my chest. Suddenly the last thing I wanted was to say good-bye. “How will I find you again?”

“My brother's working the K lift tomorrow,” he told me quietly. “Find him and have him text me.” He reached out and squeezed my hand. Quickly, secretly, so my dad couldn't see.

“Come on, Lexi,” my father repeated, his voice angry and stiff. I reluctantly stepped down to his snowmobile, sticking my board into the side compartment, then climbing onto the back. My father saluted the other ski patrol members. “Thanks again,” he told them, then looked back at me. “We're going to talk about this when we get home.”

He revved the motor, and we pulled away. I looked back, just in time to see the ski patrol members surround Hunter and Logan. Evidently they weren't going to get off so easily.

We drove down the mountain in silence, my father gripping the handlebars. I held on, the wind and snow whipping through my hair. The blizzard was starting to pick up, and in a way I was thankful for a ride home. If only it hadn't come at the expense of Hunter and Logan and the rest of the party. I wondered what they'd do to them. Would they be arrested? Banned from the mountain? I cringed at the thought. Logan could have gotten away. But he stayed. For me. Whatever happened to him would be my fault.

Dad pulled up outside his staff cabin, killed the motor, then dismounted the snowmobile. He turned to me, his face ablaze. “What were you thinking?” he demanded. “Going out to some illegal party with a bunch of staff rats in the middle of a blizzard? Are you insane?”

“They aren't rats,” I protested weakly. After all, it was one thing to yell at me—I knew I'd done wrong—but there was no reason to speak badly of Logan! “They were nice! A lot nicer than some of the stupid Mountain Academy students I'm usually forced to hang out with.”

“They're breaking the law,” my dad pointed out. “Trespassing on mountain property.” He raked a hand through his hair. “You just got back, Lexi. You've got a lot of catching up to do. You should be spending your time practicing, not partying, if you want to get back into the game.”

I glared at him, my face burning with rage. “Maybe I don't want to get back in the game,” I said quietly. “Maybe I'm done with the game altogether.”

He looked up, staring at me with horror. “You don't mean that,” he protested. “Your dream . . .”

“My dream?” I spit out. “These days it feels a lot more like a nightmare.”

T
he blizzard raged all through the night, shrouding the campus in blankets of white stuff. Unable to sleep, I lay in my dorm room bed, curled up under my grandmother's homemade quilt, listening to the windows rattle as the storm pounded against them.

I used to love blizzards. Blizzards meant fresh powder and deep snow. They meant rising at the crack of dawn to bribe the lift operator into letting you up on the slopes before anyone else. It was a game, really—a race with the other students to see who could score that coveted first trip down the mountain in a whirlwind of powder. “First tracks” we called them—a one-way ticket down a white wonderland that few tourists would ever get to experience. Once the lifts officially opened, it was too late. The powder got pressed down by the throng or pushed to the sides of the trail. Then it was just another day on the hill.

Until the next snowstorm, anyway.

From the next bed, I could hear Caitlin's soft, rhythmic breathing. She'd been in bed when I'd gotten back, lulled to sleep by the raging storm outside, and it was all I could do not to wake her and tell her what had happened. Of course the person I really wanted to tell was Becca. But I wasn't sure she would be interested in listening. My heart ached as I revisited the scene in the rec center. Her rushing off to do Olivia's bidding. Of course if she hadn't, I might not have met Logan.

I sighed. Logan. The one silver lining in my otherwise lousy first day back. Of course even
that
hadn't ended well, thanks to my dad's misplaced mountainside rescue. I groaned, remembering the look on Hunter's face when he realized that I was the party crasher who had officially crashed the party. I knew I owed both him and Logan an apology big-time. I mean, sure, Logan might have acted more understanding about the whole thing—but I couldn't imagine he had been any more thrilled than Hunter had been to get caught. As he'd told me earlier—he'd been busted before, and it hadn't been fun.

I finally fell into a restless sleep, waking to harsh rays of light streaming through our window. The sun had shooed the storm away, leaving us with pure blue skies and not a hint of wind. I'd slept in late, and Caitlin was already gone—probably off to some extra training session or practice on the pipe. Though we all technically had Saturdays and Sundays off, students who were serious about their careers didn't usually bother with any days of rest.

The question was, was I still serious?

I considered rolling over and snoozing a few more minutes—what else did I have to do that morning? But then I remembered my mission—to apologize to the boys. And the idea of seeing Logan again was nothing if not energizing. Soon I was bouncing out of bed, ready to score the Guinness world record for the shortest shower. After that it was just a matter of layering on the clothes and heading out to the K lift, where Logan's brother worked.

By the time I reached the Green Mountain base lodge, the place was packed with people. Not surprising—the first big dump of the year always got the tourists excited. Snowmakers could have made ten feet of snow earlier in the year, but no one thought of skiing until they woke up to powder in their own backyards. But now that the season had officially begun, weekends would be crowded for the rest of the year.

I pushed my way through the crowd, ignoring the tempting smells of hot chocolate and pure Vermont maple syrup wafting through the air from the Waffle Hut. There would be time for breakfast later. Right now I was a girl on a mission.

I reached the K lift and found a brown-haired guy in a Green Mountain parka working to herd a group of excited grade-school kids into an orderly line. When I told him who I was and who I was looking for, he grinned, and I wondered what Logan had said to him. He told me to wait at one of the picnic tables on the main lodge's deck and he'd let his brother know. Heart thumping, I hurried over to the tables, selecting one near the front so Logan could find me easily. Then I pulled out my e-reader and started reading. After a few minutes I slipped it back in my pocket. There was no way I could concentrate on the story with my mind racing a mile a minute.