Page 28
Maison
Ezra
Thomas
James
Nathan
Ollie
Jess
Madison
Matthew
Colton
My eyes whip open to blinding light and a shimmering blue sky peaking through the tips of charred birch trees that surround us. I must have fallen asleep after I wrote in my journal because I don’t remember the sun coming out. The bright, warm sky contrasts with the blackened horror of the previous night. Even with the light mist that hovers in the air, the rays of sun are a welcome warmth from the cold. I spent the entire night sleeping on the ground, re-living the crash scene over and over in my head. It’s the mosquitoes and black flies that awoke me. Buzzing around my ear, biting my ankles and face.
Eventually, James’s friends, Nathan and Ollie, came to watch over him. They are alive because of him. They told me to go rest, so I found Jade and Nigel huddled in a nearby tree in the forest foliage. I sat next to them and we just…waited. We passed out leaning our backs against each other because the ground is covered with moss, rocks, sticks, and long grass. We fell asleep, sitting up, from pure exhaustion. Well, some of us slept. In my dreamless sleep, I still heard Jade crying most of the night. I couldn’t do anything about it; inside, I was quietly sobbing, too.
The bite in the air is bone-chilling, instantly reminding me of where we are.
The Arctic.
I shift as I look over at Jade, who is lying beside me, shivering on the ground. Her skin is ruddy, her normally shiny hair dulled with caked-in dirt and moss. Her eyes are open and bloodshot, she looks like she’s still in shock. I reach my hand up to soothe her. She rises and sits next to me, leaning her shoulder on me. Hugging doesn’t come naturally for me—I’ve never been the affectionate type—but I let her rest on me. It’s the least I can do. Nigel is sitting leaned up against a nearby tree with his eyes closed, his expensive argyle shirt ripped, tattered, and bloodstained. All our clothes have blood on them. He’s not uttered a word to either of us. I notice his precious bag from the plane is sitting next to him on the ground.
Jade lets out a labored breath and tears start streaming down her cheeks. I need to say something to soothe her. I can’t listen to her cry anymore.
“Why did you get into photography?” I ask her.
She pauses, and then her breath evens out. “As a child, I enjoyed drawing beautiful things. But then I realized I was a terrible artist, so I started taking photos instead.”
My eyes cut to Nigel. When his eyes briefly open before he closes them again, a shadow of annoyance flickers across his face.
I continue to talk, anyway. “What kind of photos do you take?”
She loosens a breath. “I prefer candid photos of people. It’s the most effective method to capture people’s true nature in photos. Without all the filters.” She glances up at me. “Is that weird?”
Not at all—I get it.
It’s the same as my writing. It’s the story behind the story that truly matters.
“Maybe you can show me your photos one day?”
The twinkle in her eyes reminds me we all have our reason to live. Dreams, passions, goals—
Jade’s passion is photography. Mine, apparently, is digging into people, the same people I am stuck with for the foreseeable future. Even the twins have goals—hockey, it seems, from what I know of them.
Speaking of the twins, one of them steps out from behind a tree. “You three need to get up. We are going to talk as a group and decide our plans.”
Micah.
He’s changed, now wearing his hockey sweater and a pair of loose sweats that hug his muscles. I try not to let my stare linger.
Jade motions to move, and I pull my shoulders back and stay planted on my butt. Micah doesn’t get to bark orders at me, especially when we all feel so empty and drained. Nigel gets up as well and walks toward the others with his shoulders slumped. I make a mental note to check on him later.
