Girls Only! (28 page)

Quite by accident, she had put herself in that category. Of course, she and Mom knew the truth about their meager finances. Suddenly, she realized time was running out, and she hadn’t even invited Uncle Frank to the race.

What am I thinking?
she wondered. Her mom’s brother, above all people, deserved an invitation to the competition in Dressel Hills. Tonight, she would offer a formal invite by phone. Mom wouldn’t mind if she made it quick.

Thinking about Uncle Frank, she caught herself staring over at the steering wheel. She surveyed the dusty dashboard and upholstered seats. Mom’s car was nothing to look at or brag about. But when it came to reliability, that’s where this old coupe shone. It started up and purred on the severest winter days, when newer cars in the neighborhood choked and sputtered, merely sitting.

I don’t want a stepdad just so we have more money
, she thought. And that was certainly not what motivated her growing interest in Mr. Greenberg’s dating relationship with Mom. No, there was much more to it. Mom’s radiant smile and genuinely cheerful countenance counted for a lot. Her mom enjoyed her job as ski instructor, adored her daughter, and savored every tiny slice of living. She was an all-around pleasant, fun-loving person.

But this . . . Mom’s ongoing sunny disposition was something very special. Her mother just might be falling in love, and Manda couldn’t be happier, at least about that one aspect of their lives.

“Coach ordered me to the slopes first thing tomorrow,” she said when Mom returned to the car at last.

“Extra practice can only help,” Mom said. She started the car and pulled away from the curb.

If she only knew
. . . Manda wondered how long she should wait before describing her horrendous afternoon on the mountain.

Slowly, they passed through the small residential area of Alpine Lake. Large aspen trees, bare and stark against painted clapboard houses, lined the streets on both sides. And there was an occasional pedestrian, bundled up against the cold.

A storm front had been forecast for later tonight—more snow on the way. Would she have to battle new powder on the slopes again tomorrow? Still, she had been trained to deliver speed and agility no matter the slope conditions. Powder or packed powder, she couldn’t blame today’s miserable performance on the weather. Yet Manda was looking for
something to
sink her concentration into. Anything but the hard, cold facts.

Star Status

Chapter Six

“Are Mr. Greenberg and Tarin coming to the race?” Manda asked her mom as they cooked supper together.

“I’m sure they’ll want to,” Mom said.

“Did you invite them yet?”

Mom pointed to the telephone. “Why don’t you do the honors.”

Manda nodded. “Sure. After supper.”

She and her mother kept busy cooking spaghetti with vegetarian sauce, green beans, and steamed carrots and onions. Mom made a delicious tossed green salad while Manda set the table and poured hot herbal tea into mugs. “I guess I thought you’d already invited them,” Manda pushed as they sat down to eat.

Mom’s eyes took on a curious expression. “Is something bothering you, honey?”

Groaning inwardly, she didn’t want Mom to discourage anyone from showing up. She needed all the moral support she could get. But she was struggling. The important race was coming at her so fast she felt dizzy sometimes. “I . . . I don’t think I can get ready in time,” she confessed. “And I’m not kidding.”

Mom’s head popped up, and her fork hovered there in midair. “But you want to win more than anything, don’t you?”

“Sure, I want it. That’s all I think about every minute of every day. But there’s so much garbage in my head.” She couldn’t possibly get into it.

“Manda, for goodness’ sake, what’s happening?”

She shrugged. “Coach is a little worried. That’s all.”

“How worried?”

Reaching for her water glass, Manda took a deep breath. “To tell you the truth, I think he’s really freaked. Enough to try to pull something out of me tomorrow real early.”

Mom nodded. “Why’s he freaked?”

“He thinks my passion is fizzling,” she said.

“Well, is it?” Mom was freaked now, too.

“Maybe . . . or maybe I’m just so fuzzy right now.”

“I don’t like what I’m hearing,” Mom said.

She knew her mother would say something like that. But Manda didn’t want to wallow in the problem. Much more than her enthusiasm had nose-dived lately. But this wasn’t the time to dissect any of that.

“Manda, honey, this isn’t like you.” A disappointed look crossed Mom’s face. She was beginning to wonder if Mom had already told her friends that her daughter was going to place high. Higher than ever.
You just wait and see about my Manda. Mark my words, she’s a shoe-in for first place
. Knowing Mom, she’d probably announced this all over town!

“It’s not about skiing or winning. Sure, I want both.” Manda sighed. Could she make Mom, an expert skier, understand? “This is about me.”

Mom nodded her head. “Of course it is, sweetie. Getting in shape and gearing up for a race is
all
about you, me, or anyone who’s competing. You know that.”

“Right.” She couldn’t believe her mom was going on like this. Had she already talked with Coach? Eyeing her mom, Manda suspected Coach Hanson of having called on his cell phone—maybe from the slopes—right after her infamous wipe-out.

Mom pressed on. “Top-notch skiing is far less about talent and strength than about a clear head.”

“Any ideas how I empty out the junk?”

“Just plain focus,” Mom replied. “Push out everything else.”

“I’m going to lose friends over my amazing ability to concentrate. It’s a full-circle nightmare. I focus on the race and ignore my friends, which helps me ski well but stinks socially. Then, because I’m a self-imposed loner—at the moment—I hear about it from all sides. It’s eating me up.”

Mom scooted her chair out and rose to pour more tea. Across from the table, a small writing desk was set back in a cozy nook complete with overhead latticework. A recent flea market find stood nearby, a tall linen cupboard painted a lighthearted blue. All her life, Mom had longed for a cottage-style kitchen. So when they first rented the house, Manda and her mother set to work painting the walls a buttercup yellow, and the woodwork a dazzling white. A whimsical Mary Engelbreit look, minus the clutter. The curtains over the back door and the large window were bright and pretty in poppy flowers.
“Eye-popping poppies,”
Mom had said of the floral fabric found at the discount mill outlet.

When Mom sat down again, her elbows promptly found the tabletop. “You’re coming up so close to this race,” she said, leaning near. Reaching across the table, she patted Manda’s hand. “I hate to see you like this. Your attitude isn’t healthy, hon.”

“Yeah, and I’m worried, too.” There. She’d admitted to being fearful.
More than anything, I want to win. I just don’t know how
, thought Manda.

Mom excused her from helping clean up the kitchen. “Go start your homework,” she said. “We’ll talk tomorrow, after your early-morning date with the mountain.”

For a second, Manda was almost sure her mom was going to volunteer to go along. To observe the private ski session with Coach. But Mom opened the dishwasher and began loading their supper plates and silverware. No tagging along tomorrow—that wasn’t Mom’s style, anyway.

From the time Manda turned eleven, her mother was one to let Manda do her thing on the slopes. Plenty of faith rested on Coach’s expert assistance. And Manda appreciated the fact Mom trusted her instincts. There was never any second-guessing when it came to Manda’s skiing abilities. Sure, there were hair-raising moments because of the risk factor. But Mom didn’t put the brakes on Manda’s willpower and raw nerves. Or talent.

She headed upstairs to her room. The carpet had been vacuumed while she was at school. Looking at her bureau and nightstand, she saw that Mom must’ve dusted, too.
She does too much for me
, Manda thought, hoping that someday they could afford someone to help with housecleaning. If Mr. Greenberg married Mom, they might.

She dialed the Greenberg residence. Because she was the regular sitter for Tarin, she had memorized the phone number. When Tarin’s father answered, she reminded him of the downhill race on St. Patrick’s Day. “I hope you and Tarin can come,” Manda said.

“Of course we’ll be there,” he said. “The wearing of the green, right?”

She had to smile at that. “Tarin won’t pinch me if I wear my purple ski outfit, will he? Since I’m not Irish, I’ll probably skip the green thing.”

“Do as you wish.” He chuckled softly. “I’m sure Tarin will be on his best behavior. By the way, would you and your mother like to ride with us to Dressel Hills?”

“Sure, thanks.” She was secretly delighted. Yet another opportunity for the four of them to be together. Like a real, complete family.

Sitting at her desk, Manda zipped through the long math assignment as quickly as possible. Several times in the course of forty minutes, she was tempted to call Heather. But she made herself finish all the problems first, then double-checked them. That completed, she picked up the portable phone and beeped it on. Today on the slopes had shown her it was past time to clear the air with her best friend. With the other club members, too. This stuff with Jenna, and now Livvy . . . well, she couldn’t afford to let any of it interfere with her skiing goals. Not if she was going to redirect her thoughts toward the race, get herself back on the winning track.

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?”