“But?” I asked.
“But you moved too fast. First, we aren’t sure the trampoline didn’t rip. That’s what the tramp coach thought.”
“She’s wrong, Chief. I saw it myself.”
He ignored me. “Second, if it was cut, we don’t know who did it. I understand this Yakavenka girl was the last one in the pit, but that doesn’t mean much.”
“She had the perfect opportunity—”
“Third, and most important for you to get through your head, Green, is that confronting possible suspects is not our job. We aren’t law enforcement. We’re security professionals. We are here to protect our client. If a confrontation needs to happen, I will make sure it does, and with the right players. That doesn’t include you. You protect, you don’t provoke.”
“But I thought—”
“This isn’t a Hollywood set, Green.” He buttoned his wool coat and wiped his nose with a tissue before stuffing it in his pocket. “Your job, your only job, as I have to remind you too damn often, is to keep your principal safe. While I want to know who you suspect, I don’t want to see you confronting anyone. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” The fight went out of me. Clearly, I’d screwed up. Again.
Brown turned to me and sighed. “I don’t quite believe you’d be stupid enough to hit that girl without provocation. But Muth has the last say on who’s allowed to stay. If he decides you’re out, you’re out. I can’t overrule him. And neither can Black Diamond.”
“I understand.” And I felt sick.
“Good. Now get back to class. I’ll let you know what he says. And for all of our sakes, stay away from the Belarusian.”
I promised him I would, but there Darya was in the lobby with some books and her laptop, lurking like a pale Eastern European snake. I had a lot to say, but Brown’s words echoed in my ears. Protect, don’t provoke. Even with all my mistakes, Veena wanted me here. I wouldn’t get kicked out because I couldn’t control my temper. With effort, I ducked my head and passed her by.
Veena kept trying to catch my eye when I got back to class. She passed me a note, wanting to know what happened, but I kept my eyes on Mr. Sheffield. After class, she grabbed my arm, holding me in place until the other students cleared out.
“What? What happened?” she asked.
“Have you seen Darya?”
“No, why?”
“She’s all beat up, and she told Muth I did it.”
Veena gasped and touched her mouth, then winced at the pain. “You didn’t, did you?”
“No!” I ran a hand through my hair. “But if you don’t believe me, no one will. I think she did it to herself to get me in trouble.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s so wrong.”
“No kidding. And it might have worked. Forget me getting myself fired; I’m this close to getting kicked out by Muth.”
She shook her head. “If they kick you out, I have to go home. The only reason my parents didn’t yank me out yesterday was because you’re here. Nic, I can’t go home. I won’t.”
Gloom gathered as we collected up our stuff.
“What should we do?” she asked.
“Stay out of trouble.”
Easy. Except trouble seemed dead set on finding us.
Ten
The next few days were surprisingly calm—like the kind before a storm.
With lots of ice and ibuprofen, the swelling on Veena’s face receded by the second day, and the bruising was fading after two more. By Friday, her first day back on the slopes, she was still scabby and discolored, but overall, much better. Darya, on the other hand, looked like a bottle of purple ink exploded on her face. Bet she didn’t do anything to help it, either.
Every day, Brown said Muth hadn’t made a decision yet. That he was considering. Torturing me was more like it. Making me wait and suffer, so I knew who was in charge. On edge didn’t describe how I felt: I’d shot right over it.
As Veena dressed for training that afternoon in our room, I pumped out push-ups. I’d been hitting the gym early, before Veena got up, having Kovitch or Cooley cover. I did sit-ups and lunges whenever I had a spare moment.
“Do you want to come watch training today?” Veena asked me. “Nate and I studied videos of my run yesterday while everyone else was on the hill, and I had a breakthrough about what I might be doing wrong on the landing of the double V.”
I didn’t need to go, Cooley would be there, but I was too worked up to study or nap. So, with thermals under my pants and hand warmers in my gloves, I rode up the chairlift with Veena and Ali. Darya was on the chair behind us. I could feel her eyes bore into our backs.
Ali chomped gum and chattered on the way up, an ear bud in one ear playing music so loud I could identify the song. Between us, Veena was quiet.
“Nervous?” I asked her when Ali finally ran out of words and stuck the second bud in.
“A little.” She touched her scabbed lip. “But I’m stoked to be getting back on the mountain.”
I didn’t blame her for being anxious. The tramp accident aside, I’d learned from hanging around VMA that some falls ended snowboarders’ careers and others ended their lives. Veena was courageous to get back in the halfpipe so soon . . . or she had no sense of self-preservation. Maybe a little of both.
Nate met her at the top of the pipe, and they launched into snowboard-speak, a language I still didn’t understand. Ali went off to find her coach. I picked my way along the makeshift fencing to the bottom of the pipe to watch, making eye contact with Cooley on the way.
Within a few minutes, Veena dropped in, riding
