by A. G. Henley
I grabbed a cup myself and parked by the window. The sun blinded me every time I looked out. It was a Tuesday afternoon, but plenty of skiers and riders swooshed down the slopes. What did any of these people do for a living that they could ski mid-week?
I wished I’d brought my books so I could study. Veena said she did homework after training, but I needed extra time if I had any hope of pretending to pass. I called Brown to check in instead. He answered straight off. In a quiet voice, I told him about Veena’s fall, but Cooley had beaten me to it. He didn’t have much to say, except to stay out of trouble.
“Thanks, Dad,” I muttered after I hung up.
I called my mother next. She should be getting off work early today. Sure enough, I heard the car start as she answered. She sounded absent.
“Nicole . . . How are you? How is Colorado?”
“It’s fine, Mom. Different from home, but okay.”
The coffee guy glanced at me over his paper. I must be talking louder than I thought. I made a mental note of his appearance. Trim, russet skin, salt and pepper hair, and a watchful expression. I couldn’t place him from any of the photographs I’d seen, but I doubted I’d been provided shots of everyone connected to the club. I stepped outside so I wouldn’t be overheard.
“Is it snowing?” she asked.
“Not right now. How was your day?”
“Oh, fine. We were busy. Teeth in, teeth out.” That’s how she described most days.
“Use your heat pad if your neck hurts.” She often had neck and shoulder pain from leaning over open mouths all day.
“I will.”
I glanced around and lowered my voice. “Did you see the money I put in your account?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you go buy yourself something nice with it? There’s more coming in two weeks. Plenty more. When I get back, I might be able to take you car shopping.”
“No, Nicole. You should save your money.”
“Mom, I want to help.” Now that I finally can.
“I don’t need help.”
Oh yeah? Her twenty-five-year-old Toyota said otherwise. Silence crept between us. I wish she’d ask how my job was going. Something. But she didn’t.
“I gotta go,” I said.
“All right.” Her voice dropped.
“I’ll call you in a few days.”
“Be careful.”
I guess her telling me to be careful was the closest I’d get to any acknowledgment of my work. I hung up and went back inside to my little table. Feeling sad wasn’t easy with all that sunshine, blue sky, and healthy recreation happening all around me, but I managed.
Veena and Nate were back promptly at four. I stood and waved to her. She tore off her helmet and slunk over. Her black and blue braids looked like they’d been tortured, and her LED smile had shorted out. Nate watched her walk away, shook his head, and went in a different direction.
“Are you all right?” I asked her.
“No.”
“That was a bad fall. Does your head hurt?” I automatically scanned the room. Kids streamed in with their coaches, talking and laughing. Coffee guy was folding up his paper to go. Nothing else seemed amiss.
“It was a bad session all around. I’m going to the locker room to shower.”
I followed close behind. Xene warned us to take our leads from our clients. If Veena wanted to talk, which had been the case so far, then talk. If she didn’t, give her space. I waited on a bench in the locker room while she got clean.
Ali came out of the showers a few minutes after Veena went in, her towel-wrapped dreads cream puffed on top of her head. She leaned toward the mirror to examine her face, poking a spot on her forehead. “VV’s in a bad mood.”
“Yeah, I noticed. What happened?”
“Rough day. Couldn’t land the double V. She’ll be right, though. She shouldn’t worry so much.”
“How was your day?” I asked.
“Ripper! My run’s coming together.” She finished prodding. “See you at dinner.”
The showers turned off, but Veena didn’t appear. I called to her and walked that way.
“I’m here,” she finally said in a small voice. My pulse slowed again. She wore a bra and was zipping up her jeans, so I turned around to give her privacy while she dressed.
“I’m sorry I brushed you off,” she said after a minute. “When I have a bad day out there, I get super grumpy. It’s getting so close to the Olympics, and I . . . ” She sat, rested her forearms on her knees, and stared at the tiled floor between her feet. She glanced up at me, her dark eyes watery. “I can’t land the double V, Nic.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just listened.
“I miss my mom,” she said. “She always tells me not to take myself so seriously. To laugh more. To drink less coffee and pray.”
I thought about my mom. I knew what she’d tell me to do: forget all this CPO crap and go to college.
“Pray?” I asked.
Veena messed with a bootlace. “It helps me, especially when I get—” She waved her hand around in the air. “Too intense.”
“What religion are you?”
“Hindu.”
“Do you speak it, too?” I asked.
“Speak what?”
“Hindu.”
She snorted. “Nic, that’s like asking if I speak Christian.”
Heat spread up my neck to my cheeks. “Oh, sorry. I don’t know much about it.”
“Trust me, you’re not alone here in the U.S. Hindu is my religion; Hindi is the official language of India. Although people there speak hundreds of other languages and dialects, too. My grandparents are from Tamil Nadu and speak Tamil, but because they raised my parents in New Delhi, they also spoke Hindi, which is what my parents taught me. Although I understand more Hindi than I can speak.”
I tried to follow all of that. “Do you pray in Hindi?”
“Sometimes, sometimes in English.”
“Wait! Do you pray with that stuff on the shelf?” I thought of the candles and rice and everything.
She stood and pulled her coat on. “That stuff is my shrine.” She glanced at me as we headed toward the locker room door. “I’ll tell you about it later, if you’re interested.”
“Thanks. Wait, how do you say thanks in Hindi?”
“Dhanyavaad.”
I tried to repeat that and butchered it, but at least it made her laugh.
“Koi baat nahin. You’re welcome. Let’s go. I’ve got so much studying to do, and I’m starving.”
She reached for the locker room door to pull it open, but she didn’t get the chance. It rocketed into her. She blocked it with her forearm and jumped back, sucking in a breath and grimacing.
“Sorry,” Darya said from the other side.
My eyes narrowed. She didn’t look sorry. Her expression was as flat as before.
“Watch where you’re going,” I said to Darya as I guided Veena past her.
“Are you okay?” I asked for the second time today as we walked away.
She held her arm against her chest. She nodded, but her jaw was clenched with pain. I stared back at the closing door. Could Darya have known Veena was on the other side when she’d slammed it open like that? Had she heard our voices, maybe?
“Has she picked on you before?” I asked.
“I mean, she’s never seemed to like me, but no, she hasn’t. I don’t know what’s up with her these days.”
I didn’t either. Maybe it was time to have a little talk with Darya and find out.
Eight
I walked Veena to our room, where she hit the books while I stepped into my unofficial office—the bathroom—to call Xene. I flicked the fan on for privacy, now that I knew Veena could hear my conversations.
“How are you?” my mentor asked.
“Well, I still have a job.” I filled her in on how Veena helped keep me employed, and my suspicion that Darya might have it in for her.
“Motivation?”
I sat on the edge of the bathtub. “Jealousy? She wants her out of the way so she can win?”
“That could be.” Xene sounded thoughtful.
“What do you think I should do?” I asked.
“Tell your chief and the administration your suspicions.”
“VV won’t like it.”
“She does not get to make all the decisions.”
“I know, but—”
“Nicole, you called her VV.”
Crap. It slipped out. “That’s her nickname.”
“Do I need to remind you that you are there to do a job?”
No, she didn’t need to. I knew I should keep my distance, be a professional, fade into the background, keep my eyes open and mouth shut. But I share a room with Veena. I’m all up in her life from her classes to her religion. And she was awesome. How was I supposed to not have friendly feelings toward her? I couldn’t say all that to Xene. She’d be disappointed and say she taught me better. Instead, she surprised me.
“When I was a new CPO, I was hired to protect a young woman, the daughter of a South American leader. She was a few years younger than me, and she treated me well. I liked her. I got too close.” She paused. I pictured her smoothing her hair back with one manicured hand, something she did when she was thinking.
“One night, at my principal’s invitation, I went with her and some friends to a café. We were talking, laughing; I wasn’t paying enough attention to my surroundings. A man, opposed to her father’s regime, attacked her with a knife. I was fortunate to see him out of the corner of my eye. He didn’t get to her—but it was far too close. Nicole, your reputation, your career, will be built on keeping your clients safe. Not on keeping them happy.”
“Xene, she saved my job.”
“Then prove she made the right choice. Do your job well.”
Can’t I do that and be friendly with her? Xene would say no. But she wasn’t here. I had to do things my way.
“Okay. I hear you. And we should talk to Muth about Darya?”
“Yes. Use the administration to put pressure on anyone you think could be a local threat.”
I checked my watch. Hopefully he’d still be in the building so I could meet with him. We talked a minute longer, and I thanked her before hanging up. Outside, Veena’s feet were on her desk, and her laptop in her lap.
“I’m going to talk to Muth,” I said.
She glanced up. “What about?”
I braced myself. “Darya.”
“Nic, don’t. She’ll hate me more if she thinks you ran to Muth about her. That door thing was an accident.”
She was cradling her arm. When she saw me glance at it, she let it go.
“She might be the one threatening you,” I said.
“I don’t think she’d do that. Look, Darya’s not the friendliest human, but she’s here, doing all this work, training hard . . . she doesn’t want to get kicked out for something stupid.”
Xene’s words floated in my head. She does not get to make all the decisions. Do your job and keep her safe. “We need to check out every angle, and if a student’s involved, have a paper trail with the administration. I have to tell him.”
She leaned her chair back and exhaled. “Okay.”
“Where’s she from again?” Bella something.
“Belarus.”
I did some quick Googling. “If you need to leave, text me so I can tell the team.”
I re-entered my office to videocall Brown and check my plan. He kept sniffing and wiping his nose with a tissue.
“Go ahead and talk to Muth.” He was congested, too. “I’ll do some digging around about this girl. What was her name again?
“Darya Yakavenka. She’s from Belarus. That’s in Eastern Europe between Russia and Poland.”
“I know where Belarus is, Green.” He wrote himself a note. More to himself than me, he added, “This school is something else. Kids from all over.”
“Tell me about it. Black Diamond’s in her room. She’ll text if she needs to leave.”
“I’ll let Ice know.”
I paused before disconnecting. “You all right, Chief?”
“I have a cold.”
Guilt wiggled around inside me. Brown was sick, and Cooley and Kovitch’s teams had to be freezing their balls off outside, especially at night. The school, on the other hand, was toasty warm, and I was hydrated and well fed again.
“I hope you feel better, sir.”
“Me, too, Green. Me, too.”
I braced myself to talk to Muth. I could do this without calling him names. Maybe.
I tapped on the outer door of Newman’s office and went in when he answered. The dean of students wore a spiffy navy scarf and jacket combo today.
“I’d like to speak with Dr. Muth, please,” I said.
He pushed away his keyboard, straightening it a little on his desk as he did. “I’m sorry. He’s left the office for the day. May I help you?”
Muth said Newman knew the score about Veena and the threats. If I told him what happened, he could tell his boss, and I wouldn’t have to deal with the man himself. Perfect.
“Sure, thanks.”
He gestured to a chair. “Have a seat, please.”
I did, and folding his arms on his desk, he gave me his full attention with a smile. A nice change of pace.
“You know why I’m here at VMA, right?” I asked.
His forehead creased. “I do. These students are already under a lot of pressure. I feel awful that Veena has this to deal with, too.”
I agreed. “And I’ve just found out that one of the other students is causing problems for her.”
His forehead furrowed even more. “Who? And what kind of problems?”
I told him about the smack talk earlier and about what happened in the locker room.
Newman’s groomed eyebrows shot up. “She hit her intentionally?”
“I can’t be sure. But I think she heard Veena’s voice through the door before she popped it into her.”
“Was Veena injured?”
“She blocked it with her arm, and it left a bruise.”
He scribbled away on a notepad while I talked.
“Trust me,” I said, “she doesn’t want me to be here right now reporting Darya, but I thought the administration should know.”
He nodded. “You were right to come and tell us. Like most schools, we have no tolerance for bullying, and we absolutely want to know about these kinds of situations. I’ll type up a note and speak with Dr. Muth when he returns. Thank you so much for letting us know; we’ll handle this.”
I stood and shook his hand. Now that was the kind of response I was looking for. Muth could take some lessons from his dean.
Newman walked me out. Close up, he smelled citrusy and looked like maybe he shaved at lunch with an electric razor. His jacket looked expensive. I hadn’t been here long, but he wasn’t the typical Colorado ski bum working to pay for his season pass.
Maybe Newman was gunning for Muth’s job. If so, he had my vote.
After breakfast the next morning, Veena and I walked to history class with Ali and Gage. Today, Gage’s shaggy black hair was falling into his eyes, and he wore a sweatshirt, joggers, and flip-flops.
He smiled when he saw me. “How’s it going, Nic? Feeling better now?”
Flushing at the reminder of how badly I’d screwed up my first day on the job, I held up a full water bottle. “Yeah. A lot.”
“Live and learn, right?”
“With Nic, it’s live and let die,” Ali loud-whispered. Her blond dreads were tied up in a piece of purple cloth. “She’s Bond. Nicole Bond.”
She put her hands together in the shape of a handgun. Veena elbowed her with a worried look at me, but I just rolled my eyes. Ali thumped me on the back.
“I got pissed at a party the first weekend I got here. The next day I was hung-over and had altitude sickness. Won’t make that mistake again. Speaking of getting pissed—are you coming to see The Gr
inders with us Friday night?”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s a band.” Gage’s thumbs flew over his phone as he spoke. “They’re playing in town and a bunch of us are going. You should come.”
“It’ll be a good time.” Ali continued on down the hall to her class.
“Sorry, I forgot to tell you about it,” Veena said. “I’m not used to having to report my social schedule.”
“It’s okay.” I made a mental note to tell Brown. Bart would have to plan logistics.
Darya stood outside the door to the Aspen Room, staring at us. I didn’t like her flat expression one bit, but I couldn’t report her to Muth for looking at Veena wrong.
I hadn’t heard from the head of school yet. Maybe he went over me and talked to Brown when he got Newman’s report, and I wouldn’t put it past him to leave me out. I was only a young lady, after all. Ass.
Training was inside today. Instead of snowboarding gear, Veena put on workout leggings, a tank top, and sneakers, and we took the elevator down to the ground floor. We followed a hallway toward the back of the school to what was the hotel’s fitness center.
I knew from the website that the space had been converted to an indoor training facility, but I still couldn’t believe what I saw when we walked in. The pool was drained, and the pit was instead filled with chunks of soft foam. A ground level trampoline sat on one end and a short ramp perched on the opposite side. The concrete deck was lined with safety mats. As I watched, a kid bounded up from the tramp, did a series of expert twists, and landed feet-first in the foam pit.
Before bending forward to stretch her hamstrings, Veena nodded at the coach, a short, stocky woman in a VMA sweatshirt with her hair in a tight bun. “That’s Sarah. She was a competitive gymnast. She works with us in here once a week practicing new tricks or working on stuff we haven’t landed yet. We can use the park boards, too.”
On the opposite side, a boy rolled down the ramp, strapped to what looked like a snowboard on little wheels. He grabbed the edge of the board in the air and went upside down before sinking into the foam. It was, well, rad.
“Last jumps,” Sarah said.
Darya got on the tramp and performed a powerful move that involved at least three flips. Although I knew nothing about snowboarding, I could tell she was good. Still stretching, Veena watched her out of the corner of her eye. Darya landed and pushed through the foam to the side, as Ali did a pinwheeling move off the ramp on the other side. Sarah turned to Veena.
