Chapter 5

Another night of fleeing led me to another disheartening sight once the sun broke the mountains. When I escaped the scab camp, I didn’t know where I was, but I wished I had stayed lost for one more day.

Waves of nostalgia pressed me to the ground, and memories of a family trip slammed me hard.

Our parents never traveled, it was too expensive, and mom was sick all the time. Our grandparents were different. Sometimes, when school was out, they would bring us on vacation. Separated by a day’s run from where I found Andy, I arrived at a place I never thought I’d visit again.

The birds raised their voices into a chorus and turned the valley into a concert hall with sharp screeches from above, deep caws on the treetops, high-pitched whistles, and twangs that bounced through the trees like vibrating forks. Sounds drown out from the town’s noise, sounds only bird watchers could distinguish.

Unfortunately, I was the only audience member, and the beast hordes ravaged the auditorium. They wiped out most villages, especially those in the mountains, but walking through debris was like scanning the aftermath of a nuclear bomb. Oddly, a lone sign stood proudly like the entrance to an old mining town. “Welcome to Lake Placid. Site of the 1932 & 1980 Olympic Winter Games.”

I kicked a pile of bluestone bricks from the rubble of a storefront and pulled a stuffed moose from the ground. The thought of seeing the largest North American mammal excited Lia and me when we came here as children; Grandpa didn’t share our enthusiasm. We didn’t understand how big moose were back then. They were cute in the stores.

I wish I remembered what happened to the stuffed moose toys they bought us.

After dusting the doll off, I clipped it to my waistband and pressed on. The beasts crushed the shops and restaurants made from logs and stone, and they buckled the street from the weight of their stampedes. A tornado and an earthquake combined couldn’t leave as much damage.

Twelve years passed since we came to Lake Placid during winter break. Grandpa rented a cabin for a week, where we woke to the aroma of Grandma’s chocolate chip pancakes and Grandpa’s coffee every morning. Wood crackled in the woodstove throughout the night, and deer horns cast shadows on the walls.

It was probably the best week of my life.

There were hundreds of crushed cabins around me, but that cabin seemed so unique. Grandpa and Grandma took the largest room downstairs, and although there were two more bedrooms, we refused to sleep anywhere but the second-floor loft.

As captains of a pirate ship, Lia and I looked down at our deck and scanned the walls for bounty while our crew of Grandma and Grandpa maintained the vessel. Every night we played with the karaoke set Grandma gave us before bed until we got so tired we passed out. Grandpa yelled for us to be quiet, but we laughed cause we knew he wasn’t mad.

Grandpa loved listening to us sing. Every time we visited their house, Lia and I would watch musicals at their home. Grandma was a music teacher and wanted us to try different instruments or sing. Grandpa played the piano, and I learned how to pantomime. Lia was a better singer. She said that wasn’t true, but I think everyone thought she was. She excelled at everything.

She recognized her talents, more than anyone else, so when I took a free ballet lesson, she didn’t join me. Lia didn’t want to ruin it for me. The classes were too expensive, anyway. Grandma and Grandpa offered to pay, but mom wouldn’t let them, saying we needed to focus on our studies.

I remember how much that hurt, but she was probably right. Still, when we were with Grandma and Grandpa, we sang and danced as much as we wanted.

As I continued walking through the wreckage, my attention turned towards the lake. Unlike the postcards, the water only appeared blue when waves from the dusty wind crested. The lake looked deep, like the lair of some monster. Perhaps some fish or giant turtle burrowed down below.

I thought of filling my canteen but decided against it. My canteen was half empty, but I didn’t want to mix the sweet-tasting brook water with the fishy-smelling lake. The brook tasted just like water from the cabin’s tap.

On our first morning there, Grandpa raved about how good the water made his coffee and made fun of our tangled hair. Outside the big window in the living room, the snow was falling so hard we could barely see, and Grandma served pancakes covered in local syrup, which had a smoky flavor.

Grandma made pancakes thin and crispy cause she said they were better when they crunched a little. Grandpa always complained about that, and they would get into an argument, but it was nothing like our parents arguing. Grandma and Grandpa used to laugh when they fought. They accepted there was no hope in changing after being married for so long. Their bickering and name-calling was always fun to witness.

Whenever we were with Grandma and Grandpa, we didn’t want to leave. They spoiled us too much.

When the snow turned to flurries, Grandpa took us outside to make a snowman. We put on our snowsuits, boots, hats, and gloves—bundled so tight we felt like we’d burn alive when we were inside—and followed him next to the lamppost in front of the cabin. It wasn’t a giant snowman, and we shaped his head all wrong, but that was the only snowman we ever made.