On Monday morning, I board a freezing bus. It’s late October and winter is getting an early start. They should’ve named these mountains Bitter-cold—not Bitterroot. “What’s with the frigid bus, Ms. Candy?” I wrap my arms around myself and make my way down the aisle, teeth chattering like a ghost tapping at the windows.
“Heat’s out.” She closes the door and steps on the gas. “Might take a while till it’s fixed.” She shivers, gripping the steering wheel. “In the meantime, enjoy this Montana air.”
Right. Because who doesn’t love starting the day half-frozen?
Frost decorates the windows like frozen spiderwebs, and the grey and white mountains blur by as the bus scoots down the road. Time slows for a second as flashes of the abandoned cabin flicker between the trees.
I’m so preoccupied that I forget to watch where I’m stepping, and my boot lands on the foot of one of the Yarders—Russell Peterson. “Ope - sorry!”
He jerks away, calling me a nasty name, and I nearly fall on top of him, bumping my forehead on the back of a seat. Okay, so I’m a little clumsy. Sue me.
I slide into my assigned seat, slinking down as far as I can go, and close my eyes to think. Why is that cabin suddenly visible from the street? Am I losing it?
We jerk to a stop, and several more kids board the bus, including Stuart.
“What’re you doing all wadded up?” he says.
I open one eye. He’s swaddled in a puffy white parka, complete with a fur-lined hood, arms sticking out awkwardly, as he rocks back and forth like some kind of science fiction robot. I stifle a laugh—he definitely overdid the insulation.
“Heat’s out.” I untangle myself and sit facing him on the seat. “Conserving body heat.” I tug him down next to me. “New coat, Stuart? Or should I call you the Michelin Man? People are not gonna overlook the resemblance.” I cover my mouth with my Hello Kitty mitten. “What were you thinking?”
“It’s my mom,” he sighs, fishing out his inhaler and taking a puff. “It's supposed to snow tonight. She wants me to be prepared in case it blows in early. Help me with this, will you?”
I pull one arm loose, then the other. Half the bulk is from the three layers of sweaters underneath. We stuff the jacket into his backpack and settle in for the ride.
“Hey,” I turn toward him. “You know the Shadow Man cabin? I can’t stop thinking about it, and it keeps randomly appearing places, even though it isn’t really there.”
He raises one eyebrow. “You’ve probably just OD’d on Shadow Man research—stressing about our presentation on Friday.”
I nod, “You’re probably right. Let’s change the subject.” I scoot closer, absorbing a bit of his body heat.
He leans in, lowering his voice. “You haven’t mentioned Amelia in the past couple of days. Have you finally given up on joining the Peaks?”
“Nope, I’m still convinced that the Shadow Man is my in.” I say, untying my scarf. “But as far as Amelia goes, apart from the first day of school, she’s never even looked at me—and you know as well as I do that I’ve tried just about everything over the past three months.” Electricity in my brown, frizzy hair attacks my glasses with a vengeance and I peel it away. “Today’s the day, though. I don’t know what, but I’m determined to do something that will get Amelia to notice me.”
The bus grinds to a stop in front of the school, and Stuart and I shuffle behind the line of kids. Sunlight blares through the open door, temporarily blinding me, only to be replaced by the image of the abandoned cabin—I can’t seem to shake it from my mind for very long. Then, just as Stuart steps off the last step, he swings his book bag onto his shoulder. The loose strap hooks the toe of my boot, and for half a second, I hang there mid-air, wondering if this is really happening. It's happening.
Suddenly, my foot pulls free, launching me forward, and I flop face down onto the slushy pavement in a full-body splat. Papers from my open backpack flutter to the ground. Pictures, articles, interview notes. Kids swarm in; some rush to help gather my pages, others snicker and laugh. I push myself up, my bloody nose dripping onto a photo of what could be the partly concealed face of the Shadow Man.
A red leather boot lands on the picture, pinning it to the sidewalk. I glance up to see Amelia Davis, a sugar-sweet smile planted on her lips.
“Awww,” she touches her blue-tipped fingernails to her nose, “Darla! Are you okay? Few can make a fall like that look so completely…graceful.”
“Darcie,” I say. “My name’s Darcie. Darcie Reynolds. We have Math and PE together.”
She stares at my Hello Kitty mitten, splattered with blood, and her lip curls. “Heh, love those mittens. Going for the retro look?” She blinks innocently.
I stand, shoving my hands into my pockets. A trickle of blood slips from my nose.
She flips her hair and turns, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll tell Mr. Farnswiddle you’re going to be late to class. You might want to go wash up.” She walks away, and the crowd slides by, like a clump of frozen, muddy slush.
Watching the Peaks disappear into the school building, Stuart shoves the gathered papers into my backpack. He kneels next to me. “Darcie, please be careful. My opinion of them is beyond negative.”
“It’s fine, Stuart. You don’t need to worry.” I stand, hoisting my backpack onto my shoulder. “I’m just gonna swing by the office—I’m good, really. Go on to class.”
He drops his head and sighs.
I side-bump him. “At least I got her attention, didn’t I?”
Inside the nurse’s office, Ms. Bryant works on my bloody nose, applying ice to the bridge as she squeezes. I’m quiet, replaying the awful moment when my free fall lands me at the feet of Amelia Davis. Nothing says cool like a good face-plant.
I take my time heading back to math class. Facing all those Peaks is not something I’m looking forward to. The two-minute trek from the office turns into ten, and when I reach my classroom door, I rest my back against the cool cement wall, stalling for time.
Mr. Farnswiddle’s British accent floats through the edges of the door. “…typo on question number seventeen. It should read, ‘two-thirds of one hundred fifty-six, rather than five-thirds.’”
I’m debating how long I can wait here when the principal spots me and heads over, so I knock quickly, my cheeks still burning with embarrassment. Inside, a high-pitched voice calls out, “I’ll get it,” and I brace myself for the worst.
The door opens, and Amelia peeks her head out. Her eyes narrow and her lips pull straight against her teeth. It’s not really a friendly smile, more…sneaky. A manicured hand passes me a note. “I’m giving you one chance, and I’d strongly suggest you not make me regret it.” She opens the door wide, raising her voice., “Well, look who the cat drug in! Other than the blood on your collar, you look perfectly presentable.” Her gaze flicks to the hair stuck to my glasses. “Well, mostly.” She turns, sharp and quick, her ponytail bobbing like she’s leading a parade.
I crumple the note, shoving it into the pocket of my jeans as Mr. Farnswiddle moves to my side. The note burns there, smoke probably spilling out of my rear end. It’s all I can think about.
“Welcome to class, Miss Reynolds.” He holds out my math test. “You should have plenty of time to complete this, but if you need an extra…” He checks his watch, “quarter hour, you can come by later.”
I stare at the page in my hand. Wasting time converting fractions to percentages while a note from Amelia Davis hangs in the balance makes absolutely no sense.
“Ummm…” Holding a hand over my stomach I whisper, “I should have used the restroom before I got here. I promise I’ll be quick.”
He frowns. “Clock’s ticking, I’m afraid.” He waves me toward the hallway.
I slip into a restroom stall and pull the wad of paper from my pocket, smoothing out the wrinkles with trembling hands.
Think you’re ready to prove you belong with the Peaks?
Show up at the abandoned log cabin (Bitterroot Creek Trailhead) tomorrow at sundown.
Don’t chicken out. Don’t be late.
I stare at the words “abandoned log cabin.” For a second, my mouth goes dry, but I shake it off. It’s fine. More than fine. This is exactly what I’ve been waiting for. The Peaks have taken notice.
Pulling in a deep breath, I pull open the stall door and bang my head. Then laughing at my nervous clumsiness, I move towards the mirror. The smile on my face isn’t bad. The metal in my mouth feels a little less intense with the new pink rubber bands. I square my shoulders. Future member of the Peaks. No one will pick on Darcie Marie Reynolds ever again.
That afternoon, Stuart isn’t on the bus because of a dentist appointment, which—thank God—is a total relief. I need extra time to figure out how I’m supposed to get to the ceremony tomorrow night without my parents finding out. I need a plan. A brilliant, airtight, parent-proof plan to pull off the most important event of my life. I spend the ride home turning it over in my head. My only option is to sneak out, but how in the world can I get past my parents? Acting, that’s how. Oscar winning acting.
Ten minutes later, I burst through the kitchen door and kick off my slush-covered boots. “Hey Mom, I’m home!” I dump my coat and book bag onto the counter and head straight for the fridge.
“Darcie?” Mom hurries over. “Is everything okay?”
I lower the milk carton from my mouth. “Better than okay. You?” I set the carton down and grab a cookie. “Did you just bake these? They’re amazing.”
“Okay, what’s going on?” she says, folding her arms. “In seven years of schooling, you’ve never come home on a Monday in a good mood.” She snatches the milk carton and gives me that mom look.
I grin and pop a second cookie into my mouth. “I face-planted getting off the bus this morning.”
She pours me a glass of milk and slides the carton back into the fridge. “I’m going to need more information. Falling on your face at school would not account for such a good mood.” She perches on a barstool, studying me like one of her specimens.
“I caught my foot in Stuart’s backpack strap—fell flat on my face in front of the entire school.”
Mom winces, but says nothing.
“And guess who was standing right in front of me?”
“I assume that’s rhetorical,” she says.
“Amelia Davis. The most popular girl at Silver Pines Middle School.” I lean back against the counter, smiling.
Mom just blinks.
“She’s the leader of the Peaks.” I add, leaning in.
Her expression stays blank. I know we’ve talked about this.
“Of course I know who they are,” she says finally. “I just don’t understand why being a part of a group like that matters so much to you. And how is falling on your face in front of someone you want to impress a good thing?”
My hands go to my hips like I’ve been practicing this argument in the mirror. “You really don’t know what I’m talking about?”
“Darcie, I understand the social side of school, but why this group?”
My fingers brush the note inside my pocket. Obviously, I can’t tell her about the invitation. She’d never let me go to a meet-up in the woods. “Amelia came up to me and asked if I was okay. Then she talked to me again in math class. She even—” I swallow. “…She even complimented my looks when I came back from the nurse’s office.”
Mom runs a hand over her mouth. “That was…nice. But you still haven’t answered my question. Why is this group so important to you?”
"It’s just…” I stare at the floor. A chunk of cookie sits at my toe, and I push it around. “I’m tired of waiting for someone to find something about me to make fun of.”
“But you have such nice friends. No one's picking on you. Stuart is delightful.”
“Yes. He’s great, but it’s starting to be obvious that I’m not really the person I’m acting like. I don’t know how much longer I can fake it in math class. If you’re a Peak, you don’t have to be smart—you don’t have to be anything. Besides that, no one would dare bully a Peak.”
Picking up the cookie fragment from the floor, I bump my head on the counter.
Mom takes a step toward me. “Honey, I think you might be jumping to conclusions. Have your friends ever made you feel like you had to prove how smart you are?”
I don’t answer directly, just shake my head. “It’s not just being smart enough, Mom. It’s being somebody. A person people can count on. Someone who takes responsibility.” I drain the last of my milk.
“I’m pretty sure I’m the only seventh grader in the world who still gets a sitter when her parents go out.”
“Darcie, the babysitter isn’t for you—it’s for Andrew.” She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Dad and I are going out tomorrow night. Do you want to—”
“Uh—It’s that big party, right? You’re gonna be home pretty late?” My voice raises in pitch and I have to clear my throat to disguise it. Inside my mind I’m doing a happy dance. “Maybe we should wait until you’re gone for just dinner or something. I mean, I can totally do it, I just—”
“That’s probably wise. We’ll just start with small steps of added responsibility.” She wipes away the cookie crumbs from the counter.
“Yep, that’s sounds good. Can we get your student again? Stacy? We like her.”
That evening, I plan everything out. There won’t be much time between my parents leaving and me setting out for the trailhead. The tacos we had for dinner sit heavy in my stomach. The stakes are incredibly high, but the thought of another year of being the joke at school is enough to drown out the risk of getting caught. I’ll fake a headache and go to my room. No one will ever know. I’ll be back long before Mom and Dad even get to their party.
Sitting on the living room floor beside me, Andrew stacks his blocks. He's yawning and rubbing his eyes, so I pull him into my lap and blow a raspberry on his cheek. He squirms, giggling.
Mom and Dad are at the dining room table, buried in work—Mom looking over an herbarium sample, Dad typing away on his dissertation.
“Want me to get Andrew ready for bed tonight?” Both parents look up, eyebrows raised.
“It’s just that…if I’m gonna start being more responsible around here, I might as well start now.”
Dad takes a sip of coffee and leans back. “Look at that, Es. Big sis clocking in for bedtime duty without being asked. I’m one proud papa bear.” He grins and holds up his hand. “High paw.”
I swallow hard. Good daughters don’t sneak around behind proud papa bears. I meet his hand, lighter than usual. “Yep. Bedtime patrol. I’m on it.”
Upstairs, extra bubbles go into the bathwater. “Why you givin’ me a bath, Ozzie?” Andrew’s dark brown eyes crinkle at the edges, and he looks at me like a marmot in love.
“Just doing what big sisters do, Buddy.” I pile a handful of suds on his head, and he squeals with delight. I keep piling until the tower leans.
He grins at his reflection as I hold up a mirror, then touches the stack of suds. “Dat’s a big one, Ozzie.”
We play with his bath toys for a few more minutes before I dry him off. Then he runs naked down the hallway squealing, “Try to catch me, Ozzie!” And I catch him—he wants me to. That kid.
After I get Andrew settled, the voice inside my head starts nagging at me. I sink down on my knees beside him. What am I doing? Why do I always do this—get myself buried in something I can’t get out of?
He sits on his bed with his Paddington bear, humming to himself; the sweetest little guy in the entire world. Why can’t I be more like him? The lump in my throat tightens, and I swallow it down. I shouldn’t go at all. Mom and Dad would never let me.
The thing is though, if I don’t show up tomorrow, my life is pretty much over. Amelia will never let me forget it. She said it was my only chance. If I bail, I’m out—and it’ll be Veronica all over again, with screenshot memes—me being scared. “POV: Brace-face screams.” or “Metal mouth meltdown.” Or the worst: “Frizz ball freaks out.” I can’t let that happen. I won’t be that person again.
I watch my little brother in the mirror. It’s not like I’ll be hiking miles into the wilderness. I’ve been to the cabin before with Mom and Dad. It’s safe enough. We’ll probably all walk back together, so I won’t alone in the dark. If I don’t go, I’ll be the scared girl everyone laughs at again. So I don’t really have a choice.
Andrew wraps his arms around my head. “Whatcha doin’ Ozzie?” His little eyebrows scrunch together like it’s the biggest mystery on Earth.
I blink away the spiraling thoughts. I’m doing this. “Nothing. Just thinking about tomorrow night. Mom and Dad are going out. Stacy’s coming again. You like her, right?”
“Yay!” He jumps up and down. “We can play in da snow again!”
“We could play in the snow again—maybe.” I ruffle his hair. “Ready for me to call Mom and Dad to tuck you in?”
“You do it, Ozzie. I like it when you do it.” He takes my hand and leads me over to his bed. “You’re da best big sister in da whole wide world.”
“You’re pretty great, too.” I hug him tight, and for a second, I almost decide not to go. The best big sister probably would stay home and play in the snow. But then I picture the Peaks laughing.
And my plan presses on me like a mountain of snow.