In an Instant(10)

This is a good thing. If he goes left, I will go right. Whichever bunk he claims, I’ll stake the other for Mo and me. Natalie is hot on my heels, obviously out to sabotage us. Whichever bunk I choose, she’ll claim the second for herself in order to separate me from Mo.

My mind spins with strategy, and I decide to go for the cots in the back instead. I’ll claim the middle one so I end up with Mo beside me regardless of what Natalie does.

Oz turns left, and I charge forward, throwing my bag on the middle cot, then rip off my jacket and throw it on the cot to the left.

Natalie bites. “That’s my cot,” she says. “No saving.” She tosses my jacket to the floor and throws her bag on the least desirable cot, the one beneath the heater and closest to Oz.

I pick up my jacket and toss it onto the cot to the right, the one I actually wanted.

Vance and Chloe will sleep in the second set of bunk beds. My parents will sleep on the sofa couch in the living room. Aunt Karen and Uncle Bob will get the master bedroom.

“Unpack—then we’re off to dinner,” my dad yells.

I plop on my cot and pull my phone from my pocket. Mo flops beside me and looks over my shoulder.

Sounds good. I’m glad you asked me. Charlie

We bounce so hard I’m afraid the small cot might break.

“He’s glad you asked him,” Mo squeals.

Across the room, Chloe’s face spreads into a wide grin, and she gives a thumbs-up.

“You think he’ll wear cowboy boots?” Natalie sneers.

I ignore her. Last I heard she was going to formal with her cousin.

“Girls, get a move on,” my dad says from below. “Grizzly Manor awaits.”

My mom’s voice cuts in. “Jack, maybe we should stay in tonight. It looks like it’s really starting to come down.”

“And miss Grizzly pancakes and links for dinner? No way,” my dad says, his voice full of enthusiasm.

Oz hollers out with excitement, “Grizzly pancakes for dinner.”

And I know that settles it. We’ll never hear the end of it if Oz doesn’t get his pancakes.

“Girls, I’m going to finish emptying the trailer. You’ve got ten minutes.”

He’s talking primarily to Mo, Ms. Fashionista, who is already rummaging through her extremely large suitcase for the perfect ensemble to wear to Grizzly Manor, a diner with checkered plastic tablecloths and sawdust on the floor.

Natalie, not one to be outdone, unzips her also extremely large bag and does the same. I sit cross-legged on the cot in my sweats and UGGs and stare at my message from Charlie.

“Red or black?” Mo asks, holding up two equally gorgeous sweaters.

“Red.”

“Holes or no holes?” She is asking about her jeans.

“It’s freezing outside,” I say.

“But the holey ones look better with the red sweater.” She throws her not-ripped jeans back in the suitcase, and I roll my eyes. “I only need to make it from the car to the restaurant and back again.”

She hustles into the bathroom to change, and when she emerges, she looks like a New York runway model headed to a five-star restaurant rather than a teenager in Big Bear off to the local diner to have breakfast for dinner.

“Ready?” my dad yells. “The bus is leaving.”

I grab my parka, and Mo grabs a cute herringbone blazer and pulls on a pair of heeled leather boots. Natalie, seeing Mo’s choice, rummages through her bag and pulls out a similar pair, then throws on a cream-colored, knee-length down coat.

“I like your coat,” Mo says.

“I got it in Italy. It cost over seven hundred dollars,” Natalie says.

Mo does an amazing job not reacting. I, on the other hand, shake my head and blurt, “Well, I got my coat in Paris, and it cost eight hundred dollars.”

Natalie sneers at me, storms down the stairs, and stomps out the door.

Mo turns to me, and we laugh, then imitate Natalie’s haughty walk.

“Girls,” my mom snaps, stopping our rude behavior.

We walk into the night, and the cold steals our breath.





5

The world transformed while we were inside, the snow lacing together into a veil that drapes endlessly from the sky, the wind causing the flakes to dance and swirl before they settle into a blanket of white. I shiver through my parka. The temperature has transformed as well, the warmth of the day a memory.

“Let’s go,” my dad says, holding open the door to the Miller Mobile.

Mo, Natalie, and I shuffle toward it, Mo slipping and sliding in her boots.

“Finn, ride shotgun,” my dad says. “I’ll teach you about driving in the snow.”

I jump into the front seat.

Behind me, my mom says, “Mo, seat belt.”

I strap myself in as well.

We drive slowly, the chains crunching solidly as we roll cautiously down the snow-laden road. The wipers swish, and the high beams provide vision barely a yard in front of us, snow falling thick through their light.

The road is empty. Other than us, the only traffic that uses the access road is the fire department and the occasional trespasser cutting through from Cedar Lake to the slopes.

My dad doesn’t instruct me as he promised, his attention tight on the road, and I occupy myself with thoughts of Charlie and the upcoming dance.