Golden Girl by Mari Mancusi Page B

rec center, not dignifying me with a response.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    I considered heading back to the dorm. After my encounter with Olivia, the last thing I felt like was ice cream and dancing. But I’d promised Caitlin, and I knew she’d be beyond annoyed if I let Olivia get to me again. So, after giving my archnemesis enough time to make a proper entrance, I slipped into the rec center, ready for anything.
    To my relief, the music stayed pumping, the student body kept dancing and eating—as if the talk of the school hadn’t just entered the building. In fact, the few people who did seem to notice my arrival didn’t show anything more than the usual interest. Go figure.
    I scanned the dance floor for my roommate, wanting to tell her about my run-in with Olivia. But first I spotted Cam, arm in arm with some black-haired girl in a cranberry-colored dress. Tera, I guessed. My heart squeezed a little as I quickly turned away. No big deal, I reminded myself. It just wasn’t meant to be.
    Still, could this day get any worse?
    It was then my eyes fell upon a more welcome sight. Becca, standing alone over by the sundae bar, without a single Boarder Barbie in tow. Finally! The perfect opportunity to make my move.
    Heart pounding in my chest, I approached, not sure at all what I was going to say to her once I got there. Should I make some kind of icebreaking joke? An emotional plea? Or how about a flat-out question? Like, for example, how on earth did “Darth Olivia” manage to turn my best friend and ultimate Jedi warrior to the Dark Side practically overnight?
    Any or all of those strategies might have worked, except for the fact that when I did finally reach my friend, my tongue chose to stop operating altogether. Instead, I found myself standing there like an idiot, unable to form even the least coherent sentence. In return, Becca stared back at me with an unreadable expression on her face, also seeming at a loss for words. As we faced off in silence, I couldn’t help but notice her outfit. A pink, frilly knee-length dress. Seriously, you could have bet me a million dollars and I would have sworn up and down that my tomboy friend would not have been caught dead in such a girly ensemble.
    But times, they were a-changin’.
    â€œUm, hey,” I finally managed to spit out after what seemed an eternity. Not exactly the most eloquent of openings, but it was the best I could muster under pressure.
    â€œUm, hey,” she replied. “I heard you were, um, back.”
    You did? I wanted to scream. Then why didn’t you come talk to me at lunch? Why didn’t you come visit me in the dorm?
    â€œYeah,” I said instead. “I, uh, arrived this morning.”
    We lapsed into more awkward silence as the DJ added a Beyoncé tune to the mix. Gah! Why was this so hard? This was my bestest friend in the entire world. The girl I’d shared everything with since I was seven years old. The girl I’d giggled with under the covers during sleepovers in my dad’s cabin, long after lights-out. The one I’d told secrets to that I’d never told another living soul. Becca probably knew me better than I knew myself. So why did she suddenly feel like a complete stranger?
    It was then that I noticed her fingers digging into her sundae bowl so hard, I was half afraid she’d poke through the Styrofoam. It was like she wanted to talk to me, but something was holding her back.
    I decided to try another tactic. “So I hear congratulations are in order,” I said, giving her a hesitant smile. “You made the snowboard cross team? And new sponsors, right? That’s so awesome.”
    Her face turned bright red, and she stared down at her sundae, as if she wished she could crawl inside of it and hide. “Thanks,” she muttered. “Though I’ll probably drop back down to alternate now that you’re back.”
    â€œI wouldn’t be too sure of that,” I