Girls Only! (32 page)

There were two big jumps in the midpoint just before the narrow chute that made up the finish.

First, one landing—she was hot. Thoughts of her father staring at a TV somewhere, watching his girl do her best intruded her thoughts, but only momentarily. Downhill racing was
her
thing. Who cared if her long-lost father knew how good she was? Or how much she wanted to succeed—shoot for the Olympics someday.

The second landing came so quickly. She was speeding nearly out of control. She almost didn’t have time to brace herself for the jump. Poles thrashing in the air, she resisted losing control.
Ka-bam!
She came in harder than usual on the landing.

Finish line . . . in sight. She must get between here and there in under two seconds. Way under, if she wanted first place.

Dropping into her tightest racing tuck ever, she shot through the tapered chute to the cheer of hundreds of downhill fans. When she zipped past the finish line, she turned and looked up at her time. One minute and 37.14—her fastest yet.

Who on the Alpine Lake team could beat it? Could anyone?

The next skier was up. And the next.

When the race was finally over, every single skier had raced as if their future depended on it. But only Manda had snagged first place. She was number one!

A dazzling round medal was placed over her head. Breathing fast, she stroked the long ribbon.
Can this be real?
she thought.
Can this really be happening to me?

Lifting the coolest prize ever to her lips, she kissed the emblem—a snowflake and the initials DHDC. This year’s Dressel Hills Downhill Classic belonged to her and her alone.

Time to celebrate!

She spied Mom and Mr. Greenberg—Tarin too—waving pennants and motioning for her to come over to them. “Oh, honey, you did it!” Mom said, hugging her.

Uncle Frank was cool as always. He gave her a quick hug and several high fives. He said she was “looking good—better than ever!”

She brushed away happy tears. She had done what she’d set out to do.

Mr. Greenberg and Tarin were grinning, and Tarin grabbed her arm. “You’re a star,” he said softly. “I want your autograph.”

“Sure.”

“I mean right now.” His eyes were wide with expectancy.

Mr. Greenberg turned to Tarin. “You’ll see Manda several times next week,” he said. “The autograph can wait.”

Tarin was less than happy about that. But soon the media began to swarm them. Manda was the skier everyone wanted to interview. Media personnel galore. There were cameramen and women and news journalists vying for her attention. Even the mayors of Alpine Lake and Dressel Hills stood in line to congratulate her.

Her teammates hugged her and patted her on the back. “Way to go, Garcia,” said one of the guys.

“You took the bull by the horns,” said another.

“Hey, I’m no matador,” she said. That brought a round of laughter.

“Well, you’re the best, Manda,” said one of the girls. “You deserve to win.”

“Downhill Dynamite!” said Coach Hanson, giving her an enormous hug.

Manda spotted her principal and her teachers milling around.
They’re waiting to talk to me
, she thought. And when, at last, she had a slight break in the crowd, they hurried to see her. “Congrats on a great race,” her principal said.

“Thanks,” she replied.

School acquaintances, even friends from church who’d known her before today, seemed to look at her differently. As if she’d changed somehow. They stared at her . . . amazed at her performance and speed, sure, but what was that look in their eyes? Admiration? Envy?

“I’ve been talking with the teachers here,” her principal continued. “We’ve decided to have a Miranda Garcia Day at school.” His face was red from the blustery cold, but his eyes shone. “This Thursday.”

She was taken aback. “I . . . uh, thank you,” she managed to say.

“Yes, we’d love to honor you at school,” her history teacher said.

Honor you . . .

All this hoopla made her dizzy. She wasn’t used to so many people paying so much attention to her. “You’re at the top of your sport now,” Uncle Frank said when he and Mom found her again.

“My girl’s a champ,” Mom added.

“We’re very proud of you, Manda,” said Mr. Greenberg, following close behind.

“Star status,” said Tarin. “Very cool.”

The thing Manda had been living for—sleeping, breathing, and all that—she wore proudly around her neck. First place! Had she actually skied so fast? Faster than every skier in the competition? Faster than she herself had ever skied down that or any mountain? Yep, she knew she had.

She was top dog. Until the next race, of course. But, for now, she could enjoy the win.

Turning to walk toward the lodge, she glanced over her shoulder once more. Her closest friends were no-where in sight. Jenna, Livvy, and Heather hadn’t shown up. They’d stayed home, probably on purpose. Who could blame them?

Thinking back, she realized she had not prayed about this race. Not even once. She hadn’t even whispered a prayer for protection or for God’s will in any aspect of this day. Not in the preparation of it, either.

This wasn’t the way she had done things in the past. No, she had wanted to do it on her own. And she had.

But now suddenly . . . why was there this miserable, empty feeling in the pit of her stomach? Why didn’t she
feel
the way she thought she would? Wasn’t she supposed to be jumping for joy, laughing, and celebrating nonstop?

She couldn’t fool herself. Something was very wrong.

Star Status

Chapter Thirteen

“I’m in the middle of my fifteen minutes of fame and glory,” she told Uncle Frank that night. He had treated all of them, even Mr. Greenberg and Tarin, to a nice dinner out on the town. They’d gone to Alpine Lake’s grandest restaurant. And Tarin had gotten his napkin autographed by her.

“Have you informed your face of that?” asked Uncle Frank. “You don’t look like you just won the Downhill Classic.”

She grimaced. “I guess not.”

“So what’s the problem?” His face was serious. “Why aren’t you eating up all the attention? You certainly worked hard for this moment.”

She was glad Mom was upstairs and they were down in the living room. Most likely, Mom couldn’t hear any part of this weird conversation. “It’s hard to explain,” she said, choking back tears. “You’ll never understand.”

“Try me.”

Looking at her uncle, she knew there was no getting past him. Not without a good, long chat. Sooner or later, he’d want to know what was bugging her. And sooner or later, she’d open up and tell him. And be glad she did.

“I’ve been a jerk,” she said softly.

“Now,
that’s
hard to believe,” he said.

“No, really . . . I have been.” She paused, thinking of Heather’s helpful comments weeks ago, Jenna’s observations of her at Girls Only meetings, and Livvy’s phone calls checking in on her. And then, there was nothing. And it was all her fault. She’d shut her friends out. No long talks at lockers or after school. No hanging out in the dressing room after ballet class. No sitting together at youth group at church. No nothing.

They’d given up on her. They’d simply quit trying. And now she couldn’t even share her excitement with her dearest friends. “I reached my goal today. But my friends weren’t there to see it.”

“Did you invite them?” her uncle asked, leaning his elbows on his knees.

“No.”

She thought he might chuckle or something. He was silent. “Why not, Manda?”

“Long story.”

“Well, in case you’ve forgotten, you’re stuck with me for a couple of days. So shoot. I’m all ears.”

She shifted her position on the sofa, pulling her legs up under her. Did she dare bore him with the unpleasant details? There was no need to rehash everything, was there?

“Manda . . .” His voice was more gentle now. “I’m here for you.”

He’s always been here for both Mom and me
, she thought. An amazing feat her own father hadn’t managed to pull off.

“Okay, here goes.” She began to tell her uncle the whole story. How she’d snubbed her best friends, acted aloof at club meetings—skipped out on one—dropped out of too much just to win the race. “Instead of going to church, I skied. I even missed two days of school. But worst of all, I quit talking to God.”

She’d almost expected to get a raised eyebrow over the final comment. But Uncle Frank sat calmly and quietly. He had never raised his voice to her in the past. Why would he now?

“Manda, you aimed your sights on a goal. In the process, you turned your back on your friends.”

It sounded downright disgusting. But Uncle Frank’s evaluation was completely true.

He continued. “Something deeper is troubling you, kiddo. Something that’s been bothering you for a very long time. Am I right?”

What’s he saying?
she wondered. How could he possibly know what was eating away at her heart?

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Every day of my life.”

“Your dad’s gone, honey. Good or bad, he’s not coming back.”

“I know.”

Then they began to talk, sharing the good memories Uncle Frank had of her dad. Some of the not-so-happy ones, too.

“My friend Heather Bock says I’m trying to get my dad’s attention by winning on the slopes,” Manda confided. “Sometimes, I think Heather might be right.”

Uncle Frank frowned. “Well,
is
she?”

“I thought I was over this. It’s been too long.” Her eyes blurred with tears.

Uncle Frank moved to her side and put his arm around her shoulders. “God sees how you’re feeling right now, and how you’ve felt all these years,” he said.

She knew that. “God could’ve made Daddy stay with us, couldn’t He?”

“We can’t blame God for the decisions your dad made. Sure, God could have sent fireballs and lightning to stop him from leaving, but that’s not the way our Lord usually works.”

She had to laugh a little at the image of her father dodging heavenly bolts of electricity as he tried to leave the house that last day. Uncle Frank was absolutely right.

Then he said something that startled her. “Have you ever thought of forgiving him, Manda?”

“Forgive . . . Daddy?”

Her uncle nodded.

“I don’t get it. Why should I?”

Uncle Frank sat up for a moment, then continued. “It’s real important, kiddo. If you ever want to be free of this noose around your neck, you must forgive your dad. The Bible teaches that ‘if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.’ ”

Manda took shallow little breaths. She’d read that verse many times. So many she’d memorized it. Why hadn’t she taken the verse to heart? Was she that angry at her dad?

“I’ll have to think about it,” was all she could say.

“Try praying about it, too.” Uncle Frank got up from the sofa. “See you in the morning,” he said.

She looked up. Their chat shouldn’t end like this. Things felt strained between them. “Um . . . do you want a bedtime snack?” she asked.

He grinned at her. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Manda breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing she wanted was to offend her uncle. They headed out to the kitchen, where she dished up a hefty bowl of chocolatechip ice cream for him.

“Aren’t you having some?” He pulled out a chair at the table.

She surveyed the ice cream.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Your next race isn’t till the fall.”

So she gave herself a medium-sized helping. “I’ve deprived myself for eight weeks,” she said.

“Then it’s time to celebrate.”

Thank goodness for cool relatives like Uncle Frank. She even felt like smiling now.

Sitting down, she picked up her spoon. “You’re right . . . about everything,” she said.

He grinned back at her. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

They enjoyed their ice cream without saying more.

Later, Manda asked, “Any ideas how I can make up with my friends?”

“Are you going to youth group tomorrow night?”

“Sure. You coming to church with Mom?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He looked at her, a quizzical expression on his face.

“What should I do when I see them?”

“Sit with them, for starters,” he suggested.

“Are you kidding? Just go up to them—barge in on them?”

“No . . . not that.” He chuckled. “C’mon, Manda, you’re not shy. What’s the problem?”

It was getting late. And the ice cream tasted so good. She really didn’t want to get into this now. Truth was, she hadn’t told Uncle Frank everything. She’d skimmed over the part about how demanding Jenna had become. Other stuff, too . . .

There was no way she could waltz into the youth service and act like nothing had happened. Far as she knew, Girls Only had already voted her out on her ear last Saturday.

Star Status

Chapter Fourteen

On the way into the church the next evening, several people stopped Manda to congratulate her. The youth pastor and his wife came up to her first. “Nice win, Manda,” they said, but not before greeting her with, “Hey, stranger, long time no see.”

Inside the church foyer, the head usher stopped to get an autograph. The organist and several friends of her mom’s offered their congratulations. All of them had seen the article in the morning paper, it seemed.

She’d read the paper, too. She had scanned it carefully for the story on her win. But she’d found only a scissor-made hole where the article had been. Mom had jumped the gun and cut up the front page of the Lifestyle section too quickly. “It’s for our family scrap-book,” she’d said as an explanation to both Uncle Frank and Manda. This slash-and-snip session had occurred well
before
either of them had made it into the kitchen for breakfast.

“Aw, sis,” Uncle Frank had said as he swigged down his morning coffee. “Leave the paper intact for others to read,
then
chop it up.” There was more than just a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Manda had found all of this banter amusing. But not her first encounter with Jenna Song in the downstairs hallway of the church. “Hey,” Manda said, forcing a smile when she spied the a ward-winning gymnast.

Jenna replied, “Hey.” But she kept walking.