The Dangerfields

Chapter Six

I wake up to Mom shaking me gently, telling me it's time to go. It's still fairly dark out, but the eastern sky is brightening with the arrival of the new day.

I yawn and stretch. "Why are we leaving this early? What time is it?" I ask Mom as I crawl out of my sleeping bag and start to roll it up.

"It's 6:30, we need to get a head start," was her reply.

I look around, and realize that the smaller ATV is gone, along with Ryder.

I frown and open my mouth to ask where he went, but Mom sees my look and answers before I can ask. "He had to leave, he needed to be alone. You know how he is, he needs space."

I nod. I do know how Ryder is. He does need space, or he gets tense and angers easily. Every few weeks he needs to take a day or two to be by himself, so he can calm down. Once he gets back, he's fine, but it's only a matter of time before he needs to leave again.

Now that I think about it, I have noticed Ryder getting more tense lately, even before we were on the run. It doesn't really surprise me that he needed to be alone.

It's just the way he is, and there is nothing we can do to change that, but at this moment, I really wish he could've waited a little longer to leave us. I would prefer for us to stay together until we get to Casedena, but there's nothing I can do to get to him right now, so I'll just leave it alone.

Alston and Ash are both sitting on the ATV, in the spot they were yesterday, where the wind can't blow them off the machine. I spend a few minutes stroking them as Mom ties the sleeping bags onto the back of the ATV, so they can't blow away either.

"Ryder said he'd meet us a few kilometers outside the city at four," Mom tells me.

Then we leave again.

Mom and I ride together in companionship, and I can't help but wonder what it's like for Ryder, making today's journey in solitude.

Every time he gets back from time alone, he seems happier and calmer. I always wonder if that's from having time to himself to think, or if there is some other reason.

When we were younger, Livia and I were convinced that he was out doing yoga somewhere in the woods, breathing in the odour of scented candles, and that's why he seemed well rested and content. But when we asked him what he does and why, he just told us he'd explain it when we're older, when I'd understand what he goes through.

He made it sound like it was something terrible happening to him. It may be selfish, but I secretly hoped that I'd never understand what he goes through, if it makes him so tense. I feel like I wouldn't be able to handle it, not the way my incredible big brother can. He's a natural at nearly everything he does, whereas I have to work hard for it.

In that sense, I got the shorter end of the straw, but I know it didn't matter to him. He doesn't care about who does better or worse than him, especially when it comes to me. He's my overprotective older sibling, and all he seems to want is my safety.

About a year ago, I got into a big fight with him, after I got home late from school because I missed the bus and hitchhiked home. He was mad at me for trusting a stranger with my life, and I was mad at him for being so nosy in my business when he had just been away for two days alone. I didn't think it was fair for him to get so mad at me when he disappears for a few days to do who knows what in god knows where.

He said that he's not able to choose whether or not he leaves, and that I would understand why he does when I'm older. That kind of ended our argument. I had no idea what he meant by he can't choose if he leaves or not. I still have no idea, and it's been over a year.

A pothole in the road jolts me back to reality, where I am sitting on the back of the ATV as we speed down the road. I look at the world flying by us, the landscape blending together from the speed at which we pass.

I peer over Mom's shoulder at the speedometer, out of curiosity, and feel my eyes widen when I see that we are moving at 110 kilometers an hour. ( A/N That's 68.4 miles an hour, for you Americans)

I remember yesterday and smile, lifting my arms to feel the resistance once more. The rush of this moment makes me forget about everything troubling me, and even if for just a small amount of time, I feel like I'm on top of the world.

Of course, that feeling ends when we stop for lunch next to a small grove of trees. Everything here reminds me of Livia and Grandpa.

There is a town nearby, and some kids have built a treehouse in one of the larger trees, making me think of the countless hours I spent with Liv in ours.

An old maple tree reminds me of the one I fell out of when I was eleven and broke my leg. Grandpa had carried me out of the woods and brought me home before healing me, and he stayed with me for a few days until I recovered completely.

A heart carved into a birch tree with names inside it remind me of last summer, when Liv and I carved our names into a tree, along with; partners in crime forever.

Even the sandwich I eat reminds me of how Grandpa used to cut my sandwiches into fun shapes for surprises at school. It seems I can't escape my grief. It always comes with memories.

I suddenly find it difficult to swallow my food. I gulp down some water, trying to force it down, and after a few long seconds, the lump of peanut butter and bread disappears down my throat.

I look to Mom, and see that she has already beat me to the crying stage. She's trying to hide it from me, but even with her face turned away, I see when her shoulders start to shake as sobs wrack her body.

She glances at me, and looks slightly guilty when she sees my eyes fill with tears.

"I was going to cry anyways," I say as she opens her mouth, probably to apologize for making me upset. "It's just, everything here r-reminds me of them." Sobs escape me, and I give up trying to hold them in.

Mom loses her air of calm, and we cry together, mourning the loss of two of the best people that ever walked the Earth. My Grandpa Thomas, who always pushed us to be the best we could be in school, with magic, and as people.

My best friend Livia Steele, who was going to be known to everyone in the world as the hero she tried so hard to be, only she was cruelly taken from us too soon, before others could realize how special she was.

These two people were more full of life than anyone else I've met, and to think that they are dead seems so wrong to me. They should be here, laughing with us in the shade of these trees, joking in the afternoon sun, making the world better with their presence.

All the sadness and pain I have in me I let loose, and open myself up for the world to see it. I curl into a ball on the ground and allow myself to let go.

I squeeze my eyes shut and let the pain overwhelm me in the blackness. I continue to sob, and all I want is to rid my body of this horrible monster known as grief.

In the end, loss can be what destroys us. We can bottle our grief, try so hard to keep it away so others don't see it, but it never works. Not really. It haunts us from where it hides, and one day, when you're not expecting it, it unleashes all the pain you have bottled up inside you, and it could very well be the thing that pushes you over the edge.