A calm usually comes over me at this point; everything goes into slow motion and my hours of training and visualizing kick in, allowing me to perform my run on autopilot. This time, though, it’s like I’m on fast-forward. I feel dizzy even standing still, so it’s hardly surprising that I stuff up my first spin and crash to the pipe floor. My second run is no better. And that’s me out.

I force myself to sit on a snowbank and watch the rest of the comp. I’m going to suck this up and make sure I never make the same mistake again.

Curtis is just as smooth and confident on the mountain as he is off it. His clean, powerful moves take him through to the final. Saskia gets through the women’s final, nails her back-to-back 720s, and goes on to place seventh. Which is pretty impressive considering this is an international event with riders from all over Europe. Odette wins.

The riders cluster at the bottom exchanging hugs and high fives. Champagne is popped and sprayed over the crowd.

“After-party at Glow Bar!” someone shouts.

It seems like I’m the only one who isn’t celebrating. My fingers clench into fists as someone else congratulates Saskia. I pick up my board and creep off.

In four months, Saskia and I will go head-to-head again at the British Championships. And I’m going to beat her then if it kills me.

CHAPTER 9

PRESENT DAY

The door of the function room swings open, making me jump, and Dale strides in, followed by Heather.

Dale looks furious. “Someone’s taken our laptop.”

Curtis bolts to the door.

“What?” I call.

“I’ve got a MacBook.”

We chase him downstairs and along the corridor. Freezing air blasts my hair back when he opens the double doors. Two at a time, he descends the metal steps. I’m relieved to see my bags where I left them.

Curtis checks his backpack. “Fuck. My MacBook’s gone.”

I spot the half-open zip of my backpack and rummage through my things in a panic. My wallet and keys are still there. I didn’t bring my computer. I do nearly everything on my phone.

The others are checking their bags. Heather paws through layers of clothing.

“Anything else missing?” Curtis says.

“Not that I can see,” Brent says.

I’m so flustered, I can’t even remember what I packed. “I’m not sure.”

“This isn’t funny anymore,” Heather says. “I want to go down.”

Think, Milla. My gaze settles on the security camera aimed at the top of the bubble lift. I position myself before it and wave my arms. “Hello! Anyone there?”

Curtis paces the platform. “I can’t believe I let this happen. Should have come down here half an hour ago.”