Free Golden Girl by Mari Mancusi

him, hoping the darkness would hide my tears. I swiped my sleeve across my cheeks just in case.
    He gave me a skeptical look, as if he didn’t quite believe me, but pulled his hands away. I guess that wasn’t surprising, considering most people who are “fine” aren’t found sitting alone, crying their eyes out at the top of a half-pipe. The Boarder Barbies would have a field day if they could see me now.
    At least this guy didn’t appear to be a Mountain Academy student, as far as I could tell by his ripped jacket and beaten-up board. Most of the kids here were rich as anything or at least sponsored by ski and snowboard companies that provided them with top-of-the-line gear every season. No one at Mountain Academy was stuck wearing duct-taped boots.
    â€œJust a bad night?” he asked, looking me over carefully.
    â€œYou could say that.”
    I waited for him to ask me what happened, wondering what I’d tell him when he did. It was bad enough he caught me crying up here to begin with. What kind of explanation could I give him without sounding like a total loser?
    But, to my surprise, he didn’t ask. He simply held out his hand. “I’m Logan.” He introduced himself. “Logan Conrad.”
    I stared at him, now realizing exactly why he looked so familiar. “You’re Mrs. Conrad’s son,” I exclaimed, my embarrassment forgotten. The cafeteria lady always kept photos of her two sons taped to the side of her station.
    His eyes dropped to the snow. “Yeah,” he replied. “I guess you go to Mountain Academy then, huh?” His voice held a note of disappointment, and I wondered what kind of past run-ins he’d had with my fellow students. Sad to say, staff kids weren’t always treated like first-class citizens at my school.
    I gave him a sheepish shrug, kind of wishing I didn’t have to admit it. “Yeah,” I said at last. “At least for now . . . I’m Lexi by the way.”
    Logan drew in a slow breath. “Well, Lexi, you won’t tell anyone at your school I was up here, will you?” His eyes darted around the pipe, as if he half expected ski patrol to pop out from behind a tree and bust him.
    I smiled. “Only if you don’t tell anyone I was . . . ,” I said teasingly.
    â€œOh. Right.” He gave me a shy grin, his shoulders relaxing.
    â€œDon’t worry,” I said. “My friend and I used to sneak up here all the time at night. We never get caught.”
    â€œYeah, well, I’ve been caught before. And let me tell you, it isn’t fun,” Logan said, picking at a sticker glued to his board. “But it’s the only way I can get any time on the slopes. So I have to risk it.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    He looked at me sharply. “I mean lift tickets are expensive,” he said, his voice sounding a little defensive.
    â€œOh. Right.” My face burned. Of course. Stupid me. Being a full-time student, it was easy to forget that regular people had to pay for every day they spent on the mountain. Like nearly a hundred dollars a day. Not exactly something a cafeteria lady’s kid could afford on a regular basis, I guessed.
    An awkward silence fell over us. I felt bad, and I knew it was up to me to break it. So I tuned up my best cheesy-TV-announcer voice. The one I used to use to make Becca laugh back in the day.
    â€œSo instead you risk your life, sneaking out in the dead of night . . . knowing full well that any second you could be brought down. Tried and convicted of the ultimate crime”—I paused dramatically—“of snowboarding without a license!”
    Logan laughed. “That sounds about right.”
    â€œWell,” I pronounced. “I, personally, think that is made of awesome. Way to stick it to the man!”
    â€œI’ll be happy if I can just stick my jumps, thank you very much.”
    I