I dragged myself out of the car, my legs feeling like lead, and walked around to retrieve my suitcase from the trunk. Most of my stuff was already here, stored at my dad’s place, a little staff cabin a few yards from the boys’ dorm. I used to live there with him, but last year, after much begging and pleading, he’d allowed me to move into the girls’ dorm like everyone else. Which, at the time, had been a dream come true. Now, however, the idea of facing all the curious stares and pitying looks from the student body—not to mention the smug smile of my archnemesis, Olivia, herself—made me wish I could hide out in his cabin for the entire winter.
As I yanked the suitcase from the trunk and started lugging it toward the school, Mom scurried after me. “You sure you don’t need help with that?” she asked, her eyes falling worriedly to the bag in question. Something she would have never asked me, I realized, before my accident.
“I’m fine,” I muttered.
“Okay, okay,” she agreed quickly. Too quickly—as if she’d realized what she’d implied and felt bad about it. She grabbed me by my shoulders and pulled me into a big hug.
“I’ll miss you, baby,” she whispered in my ear.
“I’ll miss you too, Mom.”
“You’re going to be fine. Really. It won’t be as bad as you think.”
I squirmed away.
“I’m serious, Lexi. . . .” Her voice drifted off, and I could tell she was searching for something positive, and, of course, completely cliché to say in a vain attempt to make me feel better. Like how I should get right back on that horse. Or time heals all wounds. Or I should turn lemons into lemonade. Or maybe the most ridiculous one of all: It doesn’t matter if you win or lose; it’s how you play the game.
Yeah right. Tell that to the Olympic committee.
“It’s okay, Mom.” I tried to reassure her. “I’ll be fine. Promise.” I gave her my biggest, best fake smile. The one I’d been using all year long to satisfy concerned aunts and uncles and doctors and friends. The one that said, I’m fine. Even though I wasn’t.
Mom met my eyes, as if not fooled for a second. Then she sighed and planted a kiss on my nose like she used to do when I was little. “I know you will. You’re my strong girl,” she whispered, giving my shoulders a comforting squeeze. “My little warrior princess.”
She started back to the car, then stopped. I watched her turn back slowly, her face a mess of mixed emotions. “Just . . . ,” she started, then trailed off.
I furrowed my brow, wondering what she wanted to say. “Just what, Mom?” Was she finally going to tell me? Admit what I’d overheard the doctor say when he thought I wasn’t listening? She’ll be able to snowboard again, he’d told her. But she may never be what she was before the accident.
Which, in doctor speak, roughly translated to: You know those silly little Olympic dreams? Yeah, not going to happen. Not in this lifetime anyway.
Mom was silent, and I could practically see her warring thoughts battling one another inside her head. Then, at last, she sighed. “Just don’t let him push you,” she said in a quiet voice. “Trust your instincts. Go at your own pace. You have nothing to prove to anyone. Even if . . .” She trailed off again, and I knew she didn’t want to say out loud what we both knew could be true. “You’re special,” she amended. “No matter what. Never forget that.”
Oh great. I could feel the lump rise to my throat. The tears well up in my eyes. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not where someone could see. So I swallowed down the lump and swiped away the tears, forcing myself to nod my head.
“I’ve got to go,” I mumbled, grabbing my suitcase and turning to head toward the dorm. I could feel Mom’s eyes on my back, watching as I stumbled under the main archway leading into campus, unable to help but catch the familiar school quote above me, etched in stone and echoed by teachers and coaches all over school.
What would you attempt to do, it asked, if you knew you could not fail?
I used to love that quote. I used to say it all the time. Wrote it in notebooks, stickered it to my board. The same board that had cracked in two that fateful December day when I learned the truth.
That I could indeed fail. And that failure really hurt.
CHAPTER TWO
Lexi Miller? Is that really you?”
My roommate Caitlin rushed me as I pushed open the door to our shared dorm room, throwing her fishnet-clad arms around me and squeezing me with wild abandon. In an instant I found myself tangled in a mess of black hair, red corset, plaid skirt, and Demonia platform boots.
“Whoa! Watch the ribs!” I protested with a laugh. As usual, even my miserable mood was powerless to resist her over-the-top exuberance. “Geez. It’s too bad you’re not excited to see me or anything.”
She pulled away from the hug, searching my face with sparkling, kohl-rimmed green eyes. “Are you kidding?” she cried. “I’ve been counting the milliseconds. It hasn’t been easy, you know, keeping your bed safe for you. It’s like everyone hates their roommate this year. Brooklyn even offered me a hundred bucks for your spot after she and Stinky Susan got in a fight over Susan’s so-called lucky socks.”
I wrinkled my nose. Susan was a good skier, but her unyielding belief that common, everyday soap could somehow wash away her competitive edge made no one very eager to get up close and personal—especially when she was on a winning streak. It wasn’t surprising Brooklyn was willing to shell out the big bucks to save her olfactory glands, and I was grateful to Caitlin for standing strong under pressure.
“Brooklyn says she’s actually glad she got her nose broken during the fight, because it’s harder to smell Susan now.” Caitlin shuddered. Then she grinned. “But enough about them. Let’s talk about you. My wonderful, amazing, roommate extraordinaire—always Tide fresh and totally fabulous!” She released me and bounced over to her bed, which was clad in her favorite Corpse Bride bedspread. “Did I mention I’m soooo happy to see you?”
I shook my head with amusement as I wheeled my suitcase over to the empty side of the room. It was nice to feel welcomed back, even though I knew Caitlin would likely show the same level of enthusiasm over the news that the caf was serving pizza for lunch. That was just her—bright sunshine wrapped in gloomy paper. It was funny, most of the other goth girls I’d met were always so dark and depressed, bemoaning their tragic lives in suburbia and their boring, yuppie parents who didn’t understand them. But Caitlin, though she loved the dark fashion and music, evidently had never gotten the misery memo. To her, life’s cup was not only half full, it was overflowing with awesomesauce.
This was the second year I’d be rooming with Caitlin, since Becca’s parents had paid for a single, insisting their daughter needed extreme quiet to study. Of course if they knew how little time Becca actually spent hitting the books, they’d probably ask for a refund.
I’d swung by Becca’s room on the way up here, but it was empty—she must have been in class. Hopefully, I’d be able to find her at lunch. I felt like I hadn’t talked to her in ages, and I missed her dreadfully. It was my fault, I guess. When I’d first gotten to the hospital, I’d been so depressed I refused all visitors. And by the time I’d become more social, her parents had shipped her down to the Patagonia ski camp in Argentina for summer training, where she had no cell phone or computer access. She did text me when she got back—to find out whether I’d be in school this semester. At the time I wasn’t sure. And by the time I did find out I was definitely coming back, I decided it would be fun to surprise her instead. I couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when I waltzed into the cafeteria this afternoon. She was going to completely freak out!
I hoisted my suitcase onto the bed’s bare mattress, realizing I’d need to grab some sheets at Dad’s place before bed. Caitlin watched me curiously as I unzipped the luggage and pulled out a pair of jeans, placing them in the nearby dresser.
“I hope that side is okay,” she said after a pause. “I did try e-mailing you at the beginning of the semester to
see if you had a preference. . . .” She trailed off, her cheerful face wavering a bit. “But maybe I had your address wrong.”
She hadn’t, of course. I’d gotten her e-mail. I simply hadn’t known what to reply. As with Becca, I didn’t know at the time if I’d be coming back at all. If I’d ever snowboard again. But the idea of putting that in an e-mail . . . written down. As if it were already a fact . . .
“Sorry,” I muttered, hanging a sweater in my closet. “I was pretty busy with”—my mind flashed guiltily to my lazy days lying out on the beach with my friends—“with therapy.” I finished lamely.
“Oh!” Caitlin’s eyes widened. “Right! Of course! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” She suddenly looked as if she were about to cry. Great. I closed my suitcase, no longer feeling in the mood to unpack. This was exactly why I hadn’t wanted to come back here. To face all the questions, the curious stares, the pitying eyes . . . all wondering if Golden Girl had finally lost her luster.
Time for a major subject change. “So . . . ,” I started. “Have you seen Cam around? Is he as cute as ever?” Because of my accident, we never did get to go on our date. But now that I was back, I was more than ready for a rain check. After all, I might have hurt my knee. But my lips were working just fine.
“Um.” Caitlin surprised me by hesitating. I watched her bite her lower lip. “I don’t know if he’s all that cute. And, to be honest, he’s not all that smart, either, you know. In fact, I’d say he’s kind of a—”
I frowned. “Caitlin, what are you trying to say?”
My roommate threw me a tormented look. “He’s dating some new girl named Tera,” she blurted out after a deathly long pause. “They’ve been hanging out for at least two weeks now.”
I sat carefully on my bed. Two weeks? I’d missed my chance with the potential love of my life by two short weeks?
“But trust me, the girl’s got nothing on you,” Caitlin insisted loyally. “She’s not half as pretty. And I heard she only got into school because her dad donated, like, some kind of library or something. She’s not even that good of a skier.”
But she was probably a great kisser.
“Well, it’s for the best,” I replied, trying to muster up some bravado as I pushed down the lump in my throat. “I have a lot to do this year. I wouldn’t have much time for dating.”
“Right.” Caitlin nodded encouragingly. “Exactly! Who has time for boring old boys anyway? You’ve got the Olympics to qualify for.” She grabbed me by the hand and dragged me off the bed. “Come on. It’s lunchtime and the gang is all excited to see you. And bonus,” she added with a super-wide grin. “There’s pizza on the menu.”
• • •
The Mountain Academy cafeteria wasn’t like your typical high school caf, serving nasty dried-up chicken nuggets and shriveled Salisbury steak. After all, good nutrition is super important for snowboarders and skiers who, on average, can burn up to a thousand calories an hour while in hard-core training mode. So the school hired special nutritionists to create elaborate, healthy, calorie-rich menus and brought in five-star chefs to prepare each meal. It’s one of the reasons tuition is so expensive here. We eat well.
I kept my head down and my hood up, attempting to keep a low profile as I followed Caitlin through the windy maze of tables on our way to our traditional lunch spot. We’d sat at the same table for years, ever since Becca and I first claimed it back in fifth grade. It was a sweet spot, overlooking the caf, while remaining close enough to the food line to make it easy to go back for seconds, as we often did.
I scanned the table as we approached. With the exception of Becca, the gang was all there, all talking animatedly to one another as they scarfed down plates piled sky high with food. On the left end sat Jennifer and Jordan, identical-twin alpine skiers who did everything together. Then there was Brooklyn to their right, who still sported a bandage on her nose from the aforementioned Stinky Susan incident. Next to her lounged Caitlin’s best guy friend, Dante, the scruffy gamer geek who preferred virtual shredding to real life. As usual, his nose was buried in his phone and the Crazy Snowboard game app, pretending the rest of his tablemates didn’t exist. Across from him sat Jessie, who was sketching on her napkin. She was a quiet artist who painted beautiful mountain landscapes that hung on the walls of several Mountain Academy classrooms. On the surface she appeared to be sweet and serene. But I knew she was an absolute monster on the half-pipe.
“Look who’s here!” Caitlin squealed, slapping me on the back. Four out of the five pairs of eyes looked up (Dante kept his on his game), and suddenly I found myself drowning in a sea of excited chatter and questions.
“Where have you been?”
“When did you get back?”
“How’s your leg?”
“How’s your knee?”
“Are you totally better?”
“Are you back for good?”
I sucked in a breath, attempting to keep my composure. I tried to remind myself that they were being nice. Concerned about my well-being. They didn’t know how much I didn’t want to get into anything. I snuck a quick glance around the caf, looking for Becca, but came up empty.
“You should see the new park they built!” Jessie cried, dropping her pencil to grab her iPhone. She pulled up a photo and held it out for me to see. “They’re calling it the Apocalypse.”
“Yeah, it’s slamming,” agreed Dante, looking up from his game for the first time. “You’re going to die when you see it!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Caitlin giving him a warning look. His face paled.
“Oh, I didn’t mean— I mean—” he stammered. “Well, you know what I meant.” He shook his head, dropping his eyes back to his phone, his cheeks burning.
“Ignore him,” Caitlin said, rolling her eyes. “The video games have rotted his brain.”
“It’s okay,” I assured her, more than ready to change the subject. “I’ll get him back tonight in the lounge when I crush him in Call of Duty.” I turned to Dante. “Hope you’ve been practicing, gamer boy. Being stuck in a cast has given me much time to hone my mad skills.” I threw out some made-up gang symbols and everyone laughed. Even Dante looked up from his game with a chuckle.
“You’re so on, Golden Girl.”
“Watch out Mountain Academy!” Brooklyn piped in. “Our Lexi is back!” She grinned, raising her hand to fist-bump me. “Back like a heart attack!”
CHAPTER THREE
Everyone cheered again, and I accepted several more fist bumps and high fives before they went back to their food, leaving me standing there like a grinning fool, wondering how long it would take for them to discover the truth. That while I had no fears of being bested in any video game, getting back on the real-life mountain, after a year away, was going to be a bit more of a challenge. Back like a heart attack? More like I was probably going to have a heart attack my first trip down a double black diamond.
But how could I admit something like that to a tableful of Olympic hopefuls? Sure, it was one thing to tell my Florida friends. They figured things were cool as long as I hadn’t injured my flirting muscle and could still achieve a golden tan. But to a Mountain Academy student a lost Olympic dream might as well have been a death sentence.
I shuffled from foot to foot, feeling awkward as anything. “I, uh, need to get some lunch,” I announced at last, though truth be told I was no longer hungry. As I retreated to the soup line, Caitlin chased after me.
“Sorry,” she said, looking sheepish. “I told them to be cool. But you know how they are. Especially Dante.”
“They were fine,” I assured her, not wanting to get into it. “Even Dante.” I gave her one of my fake smiles. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. It’s all good.”
“Yay!” she cheered, grinning from ear to ear, completely buying my act. “I so missed you!” she squealed. “I really did!”
I sighed. “I missed you, too.” I glanced back at the table to see if Becca had arrived yet, but it didn’
t look like it from here. Where was she? She was completely ruining my surprise! Not to mention she was the only one I could really, truly talk to about this kind of stuff. I seriously needed to find her and fast, or I was going to go insane.
The line moved, and a few minutes later we stepped up to the counter, where a familiar face was ladling out several different types of soup.
“Hey, Mrs. Conrad.” I greeted her, placing my tray down in front of my favorite cafeteria lady. I breathed in, enjoying the rich, warm smells wafting from the cauldrons. “How’s it going?”
“Lexi Miller?” she cried, her mouth dropping open in surprise. “I haven’t seen you all year!” She gave me a mock accusing look. “Have you been skipping the soup line and going straight for the pizza?” She wagged her finger playfully. “I shouldn’t have to remind you of the importance of proper vegetables. . . .”
I held up my hands in innocence. “Come on, Mrs. Conrad! You know I’d never cheat on your delicious soup with a slimy piece of pepperoni. In fact, I just got back to school today. And the first thing I thought of was a big heaping bowl of chicken noodle.”
“Well, that can be arranged.” She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s good to have you back, sweetie,” she said, reaching over the cauldron to give me a hug.
“Um, ew, do you mind? That’s, like, completely unsanitary!”
We broke from the hug, and I whirled around to see none other than Olivia herself behind me in line. From the look on her face you’d think the poor cafeteria lady had grabbed a pile of rat fur and thrown it into the soup on purpose.
Mrs. Conrad’s face paled. “Sorry, Miss Masters,” she murmured, quickly grabbing her ladle and pouring a steaming helping of soup into my bowl.