Snowed in for Christmas

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Jett

I DON’T SEE BEN for the rest of the day. At some point, I wander downstairs and find a plate with a peanut butter (no jelly) sandwich on it and a note that says “lunch.” I accept it, the same way I accept the instant noodles left outside my room later that day. I guess this is our rations now. Peanut butter sandwiches and ramen noodles with artificial flavoring packets. I could really go for a bag of chips, anything less bland, but I guess I ruined that today.

The snow stops at some point in the night, which is the only positive thing I can say about waking up the next morning and discovering a sheet of white as far as the eye can see. The sun is glaring down on the snow, but nothing is melting. Annoyingly, it looks like Ben was right. This sunny afternoon isn’t even making a dent. We really are stuck.

I pace my stupid bunk bed room. This situation would be so much better if I wasn’t stuck with the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met. Ben is acting like a dictator, controlling what we eat and when, marking down all our supplies, deciding what we can and can’t do. Well, screw that. I’m not some peasant forced to bend to his will. And I want my damn chips.

I start throwing on clothes before I have any firm plan in mind. Jeans should be better than my sweat pants, which will only get wet out there. I don’t have a super heavy jacket, but I figure layering some shirts and hoodies might achieve the same effect. I have a beanie, but no gloves and no boots. Last, I grab my wallet, phone and pocket knife. You never know what you might find out there. Besides, I never leave home without my knife if I can help it.

I clip the little blade to my waistband and throw up one of my hoods. All right, snow. You might be big and bad enough to shut down the pass, but you’ve never had to contend with Jett Dunn. You’ll be begging for mercy by the time I’m through with you.

Resolved, I slip out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Benjamin is nowhere to be found. I imagine he’s holed up in his superior bedroom doing something boring like studying. He won’t even notice I’m gone, not until I return with a bunch of new supplies. Then he’ll have to shut his big mouth and actually be grateful for once.

I head out the door and immediately find myself in snow up to my knees. Okay, I’m definitely not driving. Good thing I bundled up.

I tromp down the driveway and onto what I assume is, or was, the street. The only footsteps breaking up the white hellscape are mine. There aren’t even any signs of animals going by. Everyone around here probably knew the storm was coming and holed up in their houses, though, so that’s no surprise.

But damn, it’s cold out here. I stuff my hands under my armpits for warmth as I trudge up the street. My jeans are soaked through to the knees. So much for that idea. And my feet aren’t doing much better. Turns out sneakers aren’t much protection when you’re forcing your way through this much snow.

Man, this is miserable. If stupid Benjamin hadn’t broken that stupid bag of chips I wouldn’t have to be out here. I’m owed one good punch in the face the second I get back to the house. Why did he have to go and snatch away the chips like I was a little kid stealing from the candy bowl? Can he stop being patronizing for, like, two damn seconds? He acts like I’m incapable of taking care of myself, but who’s the one who’s out here foraging for food, huh? Looks like I’m the big savior this time, nerd.

Besides, all his complaining only ended up ripping open that bag and wasting the whole thing. If he’d just let me have it, it would have worked out fine. Instead he pulled until it popped and I almost crushed him in that pantry.

The memory of the moment when I nearly fell into him flashes through my mind, and suddenly the snow is a little less cold. If I hadn’t caught myself on the shelves, I would have ran straight into him. It almost looked like we were about to kiss or something, as ridiculous as that is. If there’s one person I’d never, ever kiss, it’s Ben Payne. Even without the potential future step-brother thing.

Though … his face was kinda cute up close, all startled and warm. He blinked way too often, which had the strange knock-on effect of making me realize just how long his eyelashes are, and how dark they look compared to the brightness of his eyes. His lips parted softly around a gasp, and for a moment I could have forgotten they belonged to him rather than a stranger I’d actually want to kiss.

I shake myself. Being cooped up is making me go insane already. There’s no way I should be thinking about Ben that way. He’s got a stick lodged so far up his ass that it’s no wonder he’s a virgin — how would anything else fit?

Ew. Wait. I’m not thinking about Ben’s ass and anything being up it. Even if it does look kinda nice in his jeans. When the hell did that guy go and get toned? When I grabbed his bicep in the kitchen, it was far more firm than it should have been. A nerd like him has no business going to the gym and getting fit.

I halt, panting for breath and shaking my head to dislodge the worst fantasies my degenerate brain has ever entertained. If anything proves how badly I need to get the hell out of this place, it’s fantasizing about Benjamin .

I look behind me and discover with dismay that I haven’t even made it out of the block. I feel like I’ve walked miles, and I haven’t reached the main road yet. I spot a tree off to the side and wade through the snow so I can grab a loose branch. Having a walking stick helps a little when I continue. I can pierce the snow and drag myself along, though my pace doesn’t pick up much even with this help in hand.

When I finally get to the end of the block, I look both ways along the road. More white in every direction. I can sort of tell that another neighborhood lies straight ahead, but aside from that, the landscape doesn’t give me many clues. The ski slopes clump on every side of me, so I can’t follow those toward town either. And Stone Valley is so small that none of the buildings poke up any higher than the homes. It’s snow in all directions, without a single hint to guide me.

Well, shit.

Determined not to be deterred, I pick a direction and start walking. Something should clue me in sooner or later about whether I chose correctly. Town wasn’t that far from the house, right? What could it be? A mile? Two?

My heart sinks as I contemplate the potential distance. It took all this time to get to the end of the block. Now I’m wandering in a random direction with no idea how far I have to go to reach anything worthwhile. What if it’s five miles to town? What if it’s ten? Even a single mile is going to take forever this way.

No, I’m not giving up so easily. I want my chips. I’m young. I go to the gym. I can walk through a little (okay, a lot of) snow for a few miles. Come on, Jett, this is nothing. I run six miles on my cardio days. A two- or three-mile walk can’t possibly be that bad.

Except that the chill is seeping up my legs. I’m starting to shiver, even as I sweat from working so hard for every step. I want to take off my layers of hoodies, but the wind kicks up, scratching at my cheeks like icy claws. It would be suicidal to take off anything I’m wearing, but the sweat is making this so much worse. On top of all of that, my feet are soaked straight through. Shoes and socks both have provided zero barrier against the snow seeping through them. I can’t feel my toes anymore. It’s like walking on blocks of ice.

Okay, keep moving. Just keep moving. The best way to survive this is to keep the blood flowing.

I head slightly uphill toward a small bridge that crosses a river. Did I drive over a bridge on the way to the house? I rack my brain, but can’t dredge up an accurate memory. I sort of remember a bridge, but was it this one? A place like this has a dozen of these stupid little bridges interrupting the road. I could have driven over this one, or I could have driven over a completely different one miles away.

Fuck, I’m cold. I’m so damn cold. The lack of other footprints is beginning to make more sense. Dread settles over me, as cold as the icy wind that kicks up every few seconds. No one else is out here because this is a suicide mission. I’m never going to make it to town. My toes are going to freeze and snap off. But turning around and returning to the house shivering and soaking wet sounds so humiliating that I can’t stomach the thought. I’d rather freeze to death than let Benjamin say “I told you so” about this one.

I cling to my stick and try to trudge on, but my legs are burning from the effort of each step. I might not be able to get back to the house even if I could swallow the shame of doing so. I lean against the railing along the bridge, breathing hard and sweating under my hoodies. Below, the river churns by, cold and uncaring. The whole valley is similarly icy and aloof, crystallized in glinting white. Nothing moves. The silence is complete. I’m the only dumbass who went outside in this shit.

Which means any store I manage to reach probably won’t even be open.

I sink down into the snow, not caring about my butt getting wet from sitting in the stuff. This was stupid. This was so, so stupid. Benjamin is right about me. I’m an idiot. And now I’m going to freeze to death on a stupid bridge in this stupid resort town.

I pull out my knife, shakily opening the blade. I start dragging it along my stick, aimlessly sharpening the tree branch I stole earlier. It’s not going to improve my situation whatsoever, but whittling has always calmed me down. People might think I carry around my knife just for aesthetic, but I learned how to whittle from my mom when I was a little kid with too much energy. She saw an opportunity to turn that frenetic impulsiveness toward something creative and useful, and pretty soon I was carving up every stick in the backyard. I still do it sometimes when school and life are getting to me.

Already, I’m a little calmer, but it doesn’t really improve my situation. I’m wet. I’m freezing. And I’m so exhausted that I don’t know how I’m going to make the walk back.

I’m trapped out here. And no one in this cold, empty valley gives a damn.