Saskia zips past on her way to the tow lift. Odette stares after her, like she’s struggling to accept her friend would do such a thing.

I’ve missed half the warm-up time already. I snatch up my snowboard. “Let’s get this over with. How’s the pipe?”

Odette and I ride the tow lift together.

Curtis is strapping in at the top. He takes one look at me and swears. “I tried to warn you.”

“What?” I say. “You knew?”

“I suspected.”

Saskia stands with a small group, laughing and joking. Brent is among them. And Dale, lip ring glinting in the sunshine. My anger flares. I march up and tap Saskia on the shoulder.

She turns to face me. Her expression reminds me of my parents’ cat when something has aroused his hunting instinct.

“Why did you single me out like that?” I say, aware of Curtis and Odette behind me.

The group falls silent.

I fully expect Saskia to deny it, but she just looks at me, blue eyes unrepentant. “Because I could.”

“Scared I would beat you?”

She doesn’t answer that. She doesn’t have to. I won’t beat her today; she’s made sure of that.

I’m so mad I want to slap her. I’ve always played hard—I had to; my brother plays harder than anyone I know. But what he does is overt. This is a different sort of hardness. A female hardness, maybe. Underhanded. And I don’t know how to deal with it.

I struggle to keep my anger from my face. “I hope you realize the game is on.”

She breaks into a smile. “The game is on.”

Curtis beckons her over and the two of them sit, heads close. From the way he’s pointing in my direction, he’s giving her a hard time. She glances at me once more, then turns her back on me. He’s pointing down the pipe now. Pep talk. I’m going to need all the help I can get today, so I strain to hear what he’s saying.

“That wall’s in full sun, so it’s going to soften up fast. Careful you don’t catch your edge when you land your spins.”

Saskia nods and fastens her board on. He sits there, watching her run. A bearded guy in a competition bib bumps fists with him. American.

I click into my bindings and take deep breaths, trying to prepare my stomach for the up-down motion.

Curtis’s words drift across on the wind. “Should stay nice and hard all day.”

Funny. He just told Saskia the opposite, or did I hear that wrong?

Half an hour later, I’m flapping with nerves, waiting for my name to be called.

“Milla Anderson!”