Chapter 2

Three days after we broke up, Mark called me and asked me if I would go on a drive with him.

There are four roads that lead out of Soldotna. Two of them go to a nearby town called Kenai, the main attraction of that town being that the movie theater has a slightly larger capacity than the one in Soldotna (ninety-six versus eighty-four). One road goes a hundred or so miles south to Homer. I can't tell you much about it because I've never been there, but I know it's mostly a fishing town. Mark went there every so often, and he'd always come back with some halibut catch or some other fish. I ate it usually just to be polite.

The fourth road led to Anchorage. Had I know that this was the road Mark intended to drive me on, I would have refused.

But I hadn't talked to him at all since we broke up. Some part of me felt that I owed him one for treating him so harshly. I can't blame someone for being in love. I was in the same shoes. And honestly, looking back, I wasn't sure why I had broken up with him I think it was the idea that he was sheltering me, that he felt like he needed to be my screen against all the evils of Anchorage. Or maybe it was that I was ready to move on, and he was holding me back. Either way, I felt compelled into one final outing.

His truck felt cold and uninviting that morning. I got in as I always did, having to brace myself on the frame to hoist myself in. This time, unlike all the other times, I stayed as far away from him on the bench seat as possible without making it too clear that I was trying to keep my distance. I don't think I looked at him at all.

After we had gotten onto the Sterling highway, and the middle school which marked Soldotna's city limits had passed and disappeared from the rear view mirror, I knew what he was trying to do. I froze right then, and I felt all the color leave my face. This was the furthest I had ever gone outside of Soldotna. The mountains, which looked so distant and innocent from town, were now racing closer with malevolent speed. I bit my lip to keep from welling up, and only then did I look over at Mark.

His handsome face was stone cold, staring blankly at the stretch of road before us. I couldn't read anything from his eyes the way I had always been used to. Instead, they were callous, almost mocking. If you're not scared of moving now, he seemed to be saying, you will be.

And then suddenly I turned my attention back onto the road. The formerly diminished mountains now took up my whole view. They loomed over me, the dawntime sun throwing menacing shadows into the valley. The road twisted to the left suddenly, and Mark jerked into the curve, throwing me off my balance. Another turn, another abrupt change of direction, then the road angled downward into what seemed like endless depths. That's when I felt panic start to set in.

I gazed pleadingly at Mark, but he held his look of callous concentration. If he knew I was desperately willing him to stop, to turn back, he gave no indication. If anything, he went even faster, taking the next three downardly spiraling corners with reckless determination. My gaze darted from him, to the road, back to him, but it was all for nothing. The mountains, now larger than ever from the bottom of the valley, suffocated me.

"Stop it," I screamed at him. Talking removed the control I had over my tears, and i wept in a flood. "Just stop, please. Turn around and take me back home."

This didn't have any visible effect. The truck kept moving, down toward some inexorable conclusion. I pulled my knees tight to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs. I rocked back and forth on the seat, trying to calm myself, trying to stop the tears, trying to somehow stop the truck just by wishing it so. And just before I feel about ready to completely shatter, Mark mercifully slows down.

I don't close my eyes for the next minute as he takes the truck back to a more tolerable speed. He goes slower, slower still, and finally comes to a stop. I hear gravel underneath the tires and realize that he's turned off at a stop somewhere, but I've been too distraught to keep track of how far we've gone. It doesn't seem real for a few minutes, and I stay motionless.

When I open my eyes and look around, it hits me that nothing at all is familiar. The trees around me don't look like they could be native to Alaska. The sky, what I can see of it over the snowy peaks around me, seems almost purple. There's a lingering scent in the air, something new, fresh, yet very unwelcoming. The only thing... the only thing... that feels remotely like home in this environment is the boy I loved sitting next to me.