Dialing the number for the Bock residence, she waited, counting the rings. At last, on the fourth ring, Heather answered. “Hello?”
“Hey, Heather.”
“What’s up?”
Manda sighed. “You tell me.”
“You don’t sound so good. How come?” asked Heather.
Manda felt her throat closing up. Then, slowly, she began to talk, starting with Livvy’s threat of Manda’s near expulsion from the club, to the bossy way Jenna was acting lately.
“Trust me, everything will be cool,” Heather said when Manda finished.
Everything? She felt awkward. Terribly curious, too. “So . . . what’s going on with a Girls Only special meeting? Anything I should know about?”
“Why don’t you come Saturday and see for yourself?”
“You know I can’t,” said Manda. “So fill me in.”
“Just the usual, you know.” Heather seemed guarded.
“Like what?”
“No one’s mad at you, if that’s what you think.”
“Really? I guess I find that hard to believe.”
“Are you doubting me?” Heather sounded edgy. Not herself.
“Maybe.” Manda felt lousy. “Look, Heather, I’m going to level with you.”
“That would help.”
She wanted to say this just right. She didn’t want Heather to hang up before she finished. “I’ve been wondering if you told Jenna and Livvy . . . well, you know, about my messed-up way of thinking.”
“Messed up about what?”
She sighed. “Did you tell them what I said about my dad? The private things I shared with you?”
Heather answered softly, “I’d never do that, Manda. You should know I’m a better friend than that.”
“I just thought—”
“You should have asked me earlier.”
“That was my mistake.” Manda could hardly talk. She’d blown it badly with her best friend. Thought the worst about her.
They talked awhile longer, flitting from one topic to another. Heather shared the next skating event coming up. Manda talked about getting back to off-ski season, after the race was over.
Later in the conversation, Heather asked point-blank, “Why are you so upset at Jenna?”
Manda was silent.
“You know what?” Heather said before Manda could answer. “Sometimes, I can see Jen’s side of things, too. She really doesn’t get why you’re so . . . well, distant at club meetings. She’s kinda ticked off about it.”
Manda had to speak up, had to make a point. “Do you remember last December, when Jen had her gymnastics meet in Colorado Springs? She was so spacey, super obsessed about doing her best . . . and, hey, I didn’t mind. I totally understood. We all did.”
“Are you saying Jenna should cut you some slack? Is that what you want?”
“It’s her choice.” She wanted to get off the phone. “I’m too busy for any of this.”
Heather was quiet for a while. Then she said, “We all know how stubborn Jenna can be. But it sounds like the club doesn’t matter that much to you. So why should I try to fix anything?”
“Okay, then, just forget it,” Manda snapped.
Heather paused a second, then asked, “Will I see you at church on Sunday?”
Manda swallowed hard. “I’ll see.” She had hoped to avoid the issue of church attendance. Her plans for this Sunday did not include Sunday school and church. She wanted to attack the course at Dressel Hills again. If she could get Mom to approve.
“Try to squeeze some time in for God,” Heather said unexpectedly.
Then they said good-bye and hung up.
Manda was glad they hadn’t plunged too deeply into talking about church on top of everything else. After all, why should Heather tell her how to spend her weekends?
Manda didn’t take time to read her devotional book or her Bible after she hung up. Instead, she got permission from Mom to call Uncle Frank long-distance. “I’m skiing in the Dressel Hills Downhill Classic on St. Patty’s Day,” she told him the minute he answered. “Want to come and watch?”
Uncle Frank chuckled softly. “Whose uncle do you think I am?” he teased. “Would I miss seeing you race? No way. I’ll catch a flight out on Friday afternoon.”
“Great,” she said, “but I better warn you. I might not be such good company—the day-before syndrome, you know.” She paused a moment. She really didn’t want to get into it with her uncle about her lack of focus. He’d start in on some lengthy pep talk, and she didn’t need that. Not tonight.
“Don’t worry about entertaining me,” he said before she could continue. “I can hang my hat most anywhere.”
“Mom will probably offer to give up her room, like always.”
“Tell her I’ll crash on the couch,” he said. “Don’t let her go to any trouble, especially with her leg on the mend. Promise?”
She smiled. Good old Uncle Frank. He had a cool way of making you want to move heaven and earth for him whenever he came to visit. Even if you didn’t have a fancy-tancy guest suite and private bath for him. Just having him stay with them would raise her spirits. But she couldn’t wait that long to get pumped up. She had to get in gear now, get with the program. Fast!
In spite of good intentions, Manda slipped into bed, completely forgetting to talk to God. Instead, she played her harmonica softly until there was no breath left for more songs. And she gave in to deep sleep.
Star Status
Chapter Seven
I’m back! Manda thought as she and her coach took the chair lift to the loftiest region of Falcon Ridge. She repeated her thought aloud for Coach. “I’m back,” she said, “in a big way.”
“That’s the grit I like to see.” Coach was obviously pleased. “It’s a brand-new day.” He smiled broadly. “Reach for it and grab a new beginning with all your might.” Coach Hanson was very big on the new-beginning-forget-the-mistakes-of-the-past sort of talk. He knew how to push her ahead, past the doldrums and toward a victory. “Can you taste the win, Manda? Can you?”
She smiled. Here we go. “I’m tasting, eating, breathing, and sleeping it.”
He grinned at her, his face reflecting the deep red of his ski jacket. “You’ve been training harder than ever. The Dressel Hills race is your zenith this year—it’s the culmination of everything you know. Everything you are.”
Everything you are . . .
She was reminded of Heather’s pep talk. “Ski for yourself . . . do your sport for you, Manda.”
“You’re very strong,” Coach said as they approached mid-point in the ride to the top. “You take a backseat to no one . . . remember?”
Oh, she remembered. Every race she had under her belt told her that. How could she forget the thrill of a successful run, of winning? Claiming the prize, the surge of joy pumping through her veins—knowing she’d beat out the competition. Every single skier on the face of the rugged mountain having placed second or lower than her time.
Just then, something snapped in her head. She knew, without a doubt, this was her breakthrough day. Her new beginning, just like Coach had said. Erase the slate. You’re on!
There was a Bible verse from Lamentations that Uncle Frank liked to quote: “[God’s mercies] are new every morning.” Mom had advised her to “push out everything and focus.” Now Coach was saying some of the same stuff. Everyone was in agreement.
Her gaze was set firmly on the course below. She could do it. You want it badly—more than anyone eke, she told herself.
Time for the first run of the day. I’ll be a threat in Dressel Hills . . . no question! she promised herself.
So what if it had snowed ten inches up here last night. She could ski as swiftly as the wind blew and faster—on new snow, old snow, or crusted snow. Even on ice. Nothing could throw her today.
She was nuts about speed in all forms. The downhill race was the king of all Alpine ski races. There were fewer turns to make, but they were high-speed turns. And the c
ourse was steep, a vertical drop of between five hundred and eight hundred meters.
Out the starting gate, she had a super clean, fast start. She flew like an eagle, balancing perfectly, then . . . pham! a solid landing. Skimming around each of the gates at top speed was easy today. Adrenaline rushed to every cell of her body.
Downhill Dynamite, she thought, glad for the upbeat music coming through her headphones to her brain. Yep, she was pumped. At the steepest section, she literally flew down the searing straightaway at nearly seventy miles an hour. A slight shift to the left, and she was heading with all her might toward the narrow chute. Tight as a Tootsie Roll, she skied. A week from tomorrow, her fans and other spectators, some with iron cowbells to distract and annoy the skiers, would line the sides, cheering her on. Mom, Uncle Frank, Mr. Greenberg, and Tarin.
As for Heather, Jenna, or Livvy, Manda sure wasn’t counting on them showing up. Not if Jenna had her way. Besides, maybe Heather was right about things. Maybe Manda didn’t care much about the club anymore. If they came, they came. End of story.
Benny, the young man who was the timer, skied to her at the bottom of the slope. He glanced at his stopwatch. Even before knowing her time, she was thrilled with her speed on this run. Her new and improved mind-set had boosted her to a near-record time. Just under one minute and 37.19 seconds.
Every micro-second counts, she thought.
Later, after she and Coach Hanson had a chance to talk, she rested for a short time, then was eager for another run. She visualized the slope at Eagle’s Point, wishing she were there right now. But a super successful morning on Falcon Ridge was something to be jazzed about.
In the end, she beat out her own time by a few hundredths of a second. Trimming off every fraction of a second was cause for glee. “Yes, I am back!” she shouted, cuffing the air with her fists.
* * *
Determination and focus-power characterized the rest of the day. She and Mom talked after Manda showered and dressed for school. “I can’t believe the difference today made,” she admitted.
“I’m seeing the fight in you again, Manda. You’re pulling it out.” Mom watched her with keen interest.
“Cool.” She liked what she was hearing. “Like Picabo Street says—‘It’s time to let my tiger surface.’ ” Over the years, Manda had been spellbound by the Olympic gold medalist from Idaho. In some ways, she was similar in temperament to the popular skier with a fiery temper. With Picabo as the ideal skier to match, Manda knew nothing could get her off course now. She would remain focused no matter what.
Hurrying off to school, she purposely avoided Jenna and Livvy. She got her books out of her locker in record time, then headed off to first period. She took good, solid notes during science, participated in lively discussion in history, rounding up her books and depositing old ones between classes. But she steered clear of eating lunch in the cafeteria. She was deep in thought while she ate at the snack bar, near the gymnasium. Secluded from the rest of the world—right where she wanted to be. Well, at least from certain people in her world.
Here came Livvy, the apparent scapegoat. Manda didn’t know for sure, but she assumed Jenna had put Livvy up to this mission. Of course, Livvy didn’t—couldn’t—follow through with damaging Manda’s ego. But she gave her a good tongue-lashing. Well, as good a tongue-lashing as petite and sweet Livvy Hudson could possibly pull off. “Just between the two of us, I’m not mad at you, okay?” Livvy began.
“Oh, really?”
Livvy glanced at the ceiling, then she looked back at Manda. “Well, I guess I’m a little mad.”
“No kidding,” Manda said.
“I’m stuck in the middle.”
“Like how?”
Livvy tugged on her auburn hair. “Jenna wants me to relay messages, you know, to you . . . and I’m really getting tired of it.”
“So tell Jen to do her own legwork,” Manda said. “This is nuts. I mean, what’s this about, really?”
Livvy sat down across from Manda. She leaned forward, eyes zeroed in on Manda. “Look, if you want to know the truth, all of this is Jen’s idea. She wants to find out what’s going on with you. What’s really bugging you.”
“I’m skiing in a race soon—my most important ever. I told her that.” She sighed audibly, frustrated as never before. “You know what? I really can’t be bothered with club meetings and other stuff right now.”
The second the words flew out, Manda realized she’d made a huge mistake.
Livvy flinched at the insensitive remark. “Are you saying Girls Only is a pain? Are we, your friends, just in the way?” asked Liv. She looked absolutely crushed, like what Manda had just said was ripping apart something dear to her.
Coming from Livvy Hudson, this was startling. Here was a girl—the club’s vice-president—who was typically soft-spoken and shy. And so thoughtful. Livvy didn’t let people put words in her mouth and just spit them back out. She had a mind of her own. She was careful to evaluate a problem before jumping whole hog into a sticky situation. Like the present one.
Jenna, on the other hand, was an extremely outgoing gymnast. She was hard-driven and proud to be at the top of her sport, at least in Alpine Lake. Her dad was a pastor of a small Korean church in the village, and she and her parents had welcomed an adopted baby boy into their home just before Christmas last year.
All four of them—Jen, Livvy, Heather, and Manda—were caught up, one hundred percent, in athletic goals. But when it came to Jen, there was something extra intense about her. Something that went beyond her strong-willed and outspoken nature. On occasion, Manda had noticed, especially at club meetings, Jen seemed to crave the upper hand. She had to have her way about certain decisions. Maybe that’s why she’d ended up as club president in the first place. But it bugged Manda. Big time.
So, here was Jenna’s messenger—Livvy—sitting across from her in the booth at the snack bar. What could Manda say or do that wouldn’t create more conflict? Or cause more distraction for her before the most important race of her life so far?
Star Status
Chapter Eight
By the time the bell rang for afternoon classes, Manda and Livvy had come to a small understanding. “I just can’t let anything keep me from doing my best on the slopes,” Manda said.
“So . . . is that your bottom line?” Livvy asked, wearing a severe frown. “Your friends come in a distant second?”
Manda hadn’t wanted to admit her priorities quite that way. But sometimes she did feel that skiing was all she needed in life to make her happy. That her friends didn’t matter all that much.
“If I tell Jenna this, it won’t be a pretty sight,” Livvy said. “She bends over backward to juggle her social life, you know.”
“That’s Jenna . . . not me.”
Their conversation ended abruptly then. Thanks to the bell.
* * *
Mom and Tarin greeted Manda at the door after school. “Here’s our way cool downhill skier,” Mom said.
Tarin agreed, his face shining with eagerness. He wore jean overalls with a red shirt, and his blond hair was combed back away from his face. “I thought you’d never come,” he said, pulling on her jacket.
“Hold on,” she said playfully.
“I am holding on.” He continued to hang on her.
“Tarin,” she said, smiling at the blue-eyed youngster, “want a snack?”
“Only if you’re having one.”
So they headed off to the kitchen, where Manda spread some peanut butter on several long sticks of celery. “I can’t hang around too long,” she told him.
“Are you off to the mountain?” His jaw drooped a bit.
“For a few hours. Your dad will come to pick you up before I get back.”
“I’ll miss you,” he said in a whisper, eyes shining.
“Hey, don’t be silly. I’ll see you next week . . . on Monday, when I get home from school.”
Tarin shook his head sadly. “You don’t understand.” He
began to cry.
“What is it?” She went over and knelt beside him. “What’s wrong?”
He sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve before he spoke. “I like you, Manda, and your mom, too.”
She nodded. “Oh, Tarin, we like you, too. A lot.”
More tears. “I don’t want to go . . . away.”
Manda frowned, not sure what he was trying to say. “Well, why would you have to, Tarin?”
His lower lip quivered. Short sobs made it hard for him to continue. “My dad’s company is sending him to Utah. I . . . I don’t want to leave here.”
Reluctantly, Manda stood up and pulled out a chair. She could scarcely believe what the boy had said. His father was being transferred? How could this be?
She thought back to Wednesday evening, when Mom had mentioned that Tarin hadn’t been himself that afternoon. Well, no wonder! Did Mom suspect anything? Did she know about the transfer?
The sudden news blew the wind out of her sails. How could she get it together mentally for today’s practice run? She must not wipe out again due to lack of concentration. No, she must reject her fears. She would ski just fine. Like Mom said, the fight was deep within her. She was going to pull it out and hit the slopes running.
Still, the bombshell Tarin had just dropped on her in the stillness of the kitchen set her back. If only she hadn’t let her fantasies about Mr. Greenberg marrying her mother go so far. If she’d just been reasonable, more practical about Mom’s friendship with him.
Manda tried to comfort poor little Tarin. She hugged him for a moment, then hurried upstairs. In her room, she changed clothes, preparing for her afternoon run and session with Coach and her teammates. She knew what she had to do. She must suppress the knowledge, forget that Tarin had revealed anything. She must move ahead with her plan of action for the rest of the day. Sure, the news had jolted her, but it made her want to battle the mountain even more. She was angry. She didn’t want to think the obvious, that every man who came into her and Mom’s life simply walked away. She refused to think that of Matthew Greenberg. Even though that’s how it looked.
Girls Only! Page 23
