Golden Girl Read Online Free PDF Page B

was my dad; always refusing to throw anything away. You never knew, he’d say, when the one thing you thought was totally useless would end up saving the day.
    It was kind of comforting, in a way. To know that no matter what had happened, no matter how long I’d been gone, no matter how traitorous my best friend turned out to be, some things—like the ski and snowboard repair hut—would always remain the same.
    Dad dropped the bindings he’d been working on and walked around the paint-smeared worktable, grabbing me in a fierce hug and twirling me around, as was his typical MO. He smelled the same too, and I found myself taking in deep breaths of Old Spice, already feeling a little warmer than when I first walked in.
    â€œI just ate!” I protested. “You’re going to make me hurl.”
    He laughed and set me down, giving me a critical once-over. I noticed a streak of salt and pepper at his temples that hadn’t been there last year. I guess not everything could stay frozen in time.
    â€œYou’re tanned,” he observed, a hint of disapproval in his voice. I knew it had nothing to do with his concern over my future skin-cancer bills.
    â€œYeah, well, Florida.” I shrugged. “What can you do?” Dad hadn’t exactly agreed with the decision for me to stay down in the Sunshine State for two extra months, saying I could have found a new physical therapist in Vermont to complete my rehab. But Mom insisted. And she got the courts to sign off on it, leaving him little choice and a lot of resentment.
    â€œRight.” He led me over to two dingy plastic folding chairs across from one another, gesturing for me to sit down in the closest one. Then he headed over to the shop’s kitchenette and set out to make me hot chocolate, remembering, I noticed, to use two packets, just the way I liked it. “Well, how was the trip up? You made it in perfect time—we’re supposed to get dumped on tonight. The powder will be unreal for first tracks tomorrow!” He grinned widely. “Are you psyched to be back or what?”
    I made a face. He knew that I wasn’t. He had to know, right? How in the world could I be excited to be back after all that had happened last year? But Dad, as always, was the eternal optimist, living in his fun, fantastical, glass-half-full world where nothing ever went wrong. It used to drive Mom crazy—probably one of the reasons they split—but I used to love it. To Dad every goal was achievable, every star was in reach. Anything we wanted could be ours, if we just kept a positive attitude and weren’t afraid to chase after our dreams.
    Now I was starting to see Mom’s point.
    â€œYou should see what they’ve done to the course this year,” he continued, pouring hot water into my mug. “It’s totally sweet. You’re going to break records for sure.”
    I squirmed in my seat. “Um, I don’t know about that .” I didn’t want to rain on his delusional parade, but it couldn’t be helped.
    He stopped, turning to me, furrowing his brow. “And why not, may I ask?”
    Seriously, did I have to spell it out for him? “Um, hello?” I waved my hands. “A little accident a year ago? Broken leg? Dislocated knee? Ring any bells?”
    He gave me a grim smile. “Yes, I do seem to remember something like that. But I also remember the next day—my daughter promising me she’d be strapping on that snowboard again in no time flat. Telling me that no little injury was going to stand in her way of Olympic gold.”
    Had I really said that? “It must have been all the drugs they gave me in the hospital,” I muttered.
    â€œBesides, I thought the doctor gave you a clean bill of health,” my dad added. “Your mom said you had permission to continue your training immediately.”
    â€œYeah. But . . .” I trailed off with a sigh. I was so