TWISTED ICE (ONC 2023)

CHAPTER 3

Observation is my superpower.

I watch and listen more than I talk and interact. That's why I hang back as Isaiah, Jasmine, Chloe, and Hunter forge the path ahead through the tight band of what appear to be mature spruce trees. The cedars I noticed a while back seemed to have thinned out and disappeared by this point.

We've been walking for hours in the blinding, shivering, teeth-chattering cold. At first, we tried to find an easy way up the mountain to get to the highway, but the cliff side was too vertical. I'm talking hundreds of feet vertical. With Isaiah and his broken wrist, there was no chance of scaling the icy rocks. Our only option was to stick to the trees, so we did. As we walked, the blizzard kicked into an even higher gear, driving us deeper into the slim protection of the taller trees. Now, there's a creek to our right as we journey west. It's narrow; about two or three hops to get across, but no one seems to think we need to cross it yet. Everyone's too absorbed in their own conversations. As in the beginning, Hunter leads the way with Chloe behind him, trying to engage him in a discussion about nature and science, but he's too focused on finding shelter in the cold, and, glancing back at Jasmine, who doesn't seem to return his attempts at eye contact.

Next in line, Isaiah and Jasmine hike side by side. Then there's me.

Jasmine seems concerned about Isaiah's wrist. And he seems more concerned with Chloe's curvy figure as she steps over a fallen tree. With her parka hood down and blonde braid trailing down her back, her butt forms a perfect bend, full and shapely, as her leg rises and falls, stepping down on the other side of the downed tree. Flakes land on her gray wool cap as the heavy precipitation whitens the view of her, making her look like a—I huff—well, like a snow angel.

Jasmine leans close to Isaiah. "Like what you see?"

It comes out as a harsh whisper, loud enough to be audible in the shushing winter chill.

"What?" His eyes dash to the snow-laden ground, darting to the tree line and then to the creek and its water rushing between its banks.

"You know what." She glances away. "You used to look at me like that."

"I do, still." But his voice is frail, like he's unsure of what he said, or he's certain Jasmine will know the truth. Hard to lie to the ones we love. They see it. Hear it. Feel it.

During one of Isaiah's tutoring sessions with me, he brought up the subject of his mother. How she is one of those moms who wants what's best for their children. She understands he wants to go pro, but made it clear she wanted him to finish his degree. Make the most of his life and be a good person. She would be disappointed if she knew he was making eyes at Chloe, especially in front of his girlfriend. I believe she would find that disrespectful.

Jasmine wags her head, elbows past Isaiah, and then jogs up beside Hunter. Maybe she wants to make Isaiah jealous, or find out the plan for how we'll get out of this alive?

"Geez." Isaiah sways with frustration, his gait side to side, injured arm tucked against his stomach. There aren't any wayward branches on his right side because of the creek. Lucky for him and his wrist.

I think about drawing even with him, but before I do, Chloe falls back to take Jasmine's place. Can't help but think that won't go over well. It's like musical chairs. Hunter won't pay attention to Chloe, so she turns to Isaiah. Isaiah made Jasmine mad, so she turns to Hunter, who may have a thing for her, based on what I saw back at the crash site. Maybe that's why he won't look my way?

Everyone has a coin to flip, and they're flipping at an alarming rate. And landing. Not just mine. Question is, what is everyone daring themselves to do?

I'm treading right behind Isaiah and Chloe, centered, so I have a good view of their conversation.

Chloe glances ahead at Hunter and Jasmine. They peer back at her and Isaiah, but only for a second before they focus on the path ahead, as if the rest of us don't exist. The more I watch the four of them, the more I feel like I don't. Exist. The notion of that makes me gnaw on the inside of my cheek again. When I feel the pain, the flesh between my teeth, it reminds me I'm alive and that I'm important, at least to myself.