Golden Girl by Mari Mancusi

She said it would be good for me to get out of bed and enjoy the DJ and dancing and make-your-own-sundae bar. Normally I would have been all over this kind of thing—but now I just couldn’t bring myself to face all the other kids staring at me and whispering.
    â€œYou’ve all fallen, but you’ve all gotten up,” I pointed out miserably. “I had to be rescued. Does that scream future Olympian to you?” I rolled over in bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Face it, Caitlin. My career is over. I might as well drop out and enroll in public school at this point. Give it all up for good.”
    â€œYeah, cause that’s a well-thought-out plan,” Caitlin remarked wryly. “Seriously, Lex. Stop the pity party for one second and think about it. You suffered a major accident. And your brain needs time to recover too—just like your body did. So how about you cut yourself some slack here?”
    I made a face. “Do you think Shaun White cut himself some slack?” I asked, naming the world’s most famous snowboarder. “Or what about Jamie Anderson? You think she ever had a panic attack on a simple tabletop jump?”
    â€œYes, I do, actually,” Caitlin proclaimed. “In fact, I bet she’s had some pretty major panic attacks in her day. And yes, I believe even Shaun White himself may have fallen once or twice in his illustrious snowboarding career. In fact, I’ve seen the YouTube videos.
    â€œBut luckily for us,” she added, “and the entire snowboarding industry—neither of them quit the sport they loved because they were afraid of what people would say about them.”
    She popped up from the bed and grabbed her Skelanimals backpack, heading for the door. “Come on,” she urged. “If you won’t do it for me, then do it for Shaun and Jamie. Show them they ain’t got nothing on you.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
    C aitlin was right; by avoiding Olivia and her Boarder Barbies, I was only letting them win. And hadn’t I already determined I’d never let them win again? Not that today’s fiasco was a promising start, but still.
    So I told Caitlin to go on without me, I’d meet her there. Then I forced myself out of bed, took a quick shower, and changed into party clothes, slipping snowboard boots on my feet in case the forecasted blizzard was still on its way. I headed downstairs and across campus to the student rec center, where the ice cream social was being held.
    Mountain Academy was famous for its ice cream socials. They purchased the ice cream from a farm down the hill that made it by hand using milk from their own cows. So it was always super fresh and extra creamy. And that was only the beginning of the awesome. There was also the infamous toppings bar, jam-packed with every possible ice cream topping you could think of: hot fudge, marshmallow, butterscotch, M&M’s, gummy bears, Oreos—you name it, they had it. And the best part? You got to serve yourself, meaning you could pile an inhuman amount of whipped cream on top—a virtual mountain of the sweet stuff—and no one said a word to stop you.
    The snow had just started to come down as I made my way across campus. Light, fluffy flakes gently dusting my jacket. According to my Weather.com app, the true blizzard wouldn’t start till around midnight. But when it did, it was meant to be a mean one—a real nor’easter. Hopefully, we wouldn’t lose power in the dorms. That was always a pain, trying to study by candlelight.
    Though at the moment, studying was the least of my problems. I reached the rec center, realizing my hands were shaking like crazy. As I wrapped my fingers around the doorknob and prepared to go inside, I couldn’t help but imagine how the next moments would play out. In my imagination I’d step through the doors. The music would screech to a halt. Everyone would turn and stare. Then, after a moment of shocked