She’s stayed well away from me these last two weeks. Curtis had a word with her, I presume. Then again, she could just be biding her time.

“All ready for the Brits?” she says to Odette.

“Yeah, maybe,” Odette says.

Alarm bells start to ring. “But she’s not competing,” I say.

“Oh, but she is,” Saskia says.

All the air seems to rush out of me. “She’s not a Brit.”

“I need the points,” Odette says.

I stare at her. “What?”

“It’s a tiny comp and the prize money is nothing,” Odette says. “But internationals can enter. We don’t get a British ranking, but we get FIS points. I missed a few comps this year when I hurt my wrist, so I need the points.”

If I felt sick before, now I really want to vomit. So much for me making the top three. This is bad. Really bad.

On paper, the result won’t affect the British rankings because she’s not a Brit, but it’ll affect the rankings in my head and, more important, how it looks to any potential sponsors watching.

There’s a hard edge to Saskia’s smile and I realize she’s not happy about this either. How long has she known?

Numbly I pick up my board and follow our little gang for what has become a daily ritual: the race back down to the resort. For the boys, it’s harmless fun, but for us girls, it’s personal. Odette always wins, no surprises there, but Saskia and I are pretty evenly matched in the speed stakes. I have Stefan, my boyfriend from last year, to thank for that, and I guess she has her brother.

The top of the piste is the informal start line. Saskia and I shuffle into position.

I need to fight back. It’s that or slink off home to cry. “Did you see my Crippler earlier?” I ask brightly.

That wipes the smile off Saskia’s face. She exchanges looks with Odette and turns back to me, disbelieving.

Brent is fastening his bindings nearby. He hasn’t said much to me since I broke up with him yesterday, but after a moment’s delay, he reaches out to bump fists with me. “Yeah, you nailed it, Mills.”

His glove meets mine and I give him a look of silent thanks.

Saskia stares. It’s a false victory, but it’s the only one I’m going to get.

She taps Curtis on the shoulder. “Will you spot me on the tramp later?” she asks sweetly.

He looks from her to me and Odette. “No. Ask one of your friends. Or haven’t you got any?”

Saskia lowers her goggles, sour faced. She wants to try Cripplers, clearly, but doesn’t want any of the competition there to witness it. Which now includes Odette.