‘Kangaroos!’ Jaxon grins broadly. ‘I’d kill to see them in the wild. I’ve never met a real Australian. Say some Aussie stuff.’ He pronounces the word like ‘uh-zee’.
‘G’day, mate,’ my voice lilts. Jaxon bursts out laughing, a full-blown real guffaw, so over the top it makes me laugh too.
My father excuses himself to make some calls, and I wonder if I can ask Jaxon about his dad and where his mum is.
‘So,’ I say to fill up the silence.
‘Your dad’s pretty awesome, by the way.’ He turns his beanie over in his hands.
I smile. ‘Awesome’ sounds way better than ‘loser’.
‘Have you finished high school?’ I ask.
‘Yep, a few months ago. But I’ve been working at the Anchorage Visitor Bureau for the last couple of years, and then I got a job as a horseback guide over the summer in the Chugach Mountains to the east. Now I’m interning with a researcher at the national parks studying the wolf population close to town. There are about 7000 wolves in Alaska but in the south-east there are only a few hundred left; they’ve totally dropped in numbers.’
‘That’s so sad. Just like the orangutans in Borneo. My mum and I wanted to see them too. I’ll still go … one day.’
Now I feel sad. Who will I go with? I can’t help but hope it may be my father.
At that moment, he returns. ‘I thought I could find an alternative place for you to stay while we’re camping, bud, but no luck. I’d prefer not to leave you alone. Seriously, Jaxon, given the situation, it just wouldn’t sit right with me. Sky and I will go next week as planned I’m sure your dad will be back by then. If that’s okay with you, Sky?’
‘Sure.’
‘But you’ll miss the lights,’ Jaxon says. ‘That was the whole point of going snow camping, you told me yourself. If you stay back because of me, I’ll ruin it for both of you.’
I look at them, my mind whirring. Jaxon has pulled his sleeves over his hands. For a second, I feel his pain. I know what abandoned and scared looks like—it’s a different situation but kind of the same. For whatever reason, he’s by himself and trying not to freak out about his dad disappearing.
My father obviously feels stuck between his worry for Jaxon and trying to make a good impression on me.
‘If you come with us, you can show us the wolf dens, right?’ I ask Jaxon.
‘Yeah, but … I don’t want to get in your way or anything. You, like, came across the world to hang out with your dad.’
‘It’s all right,’ I say.
‘Sky, are you sure?’ my father asks.
I think of Mum, always helping people out, like giving free pastries to the homeless hanging outside the bakery where she worked, when the owner wasn’t around. She had the kindest heart in the world.
‘I am,’ I say, sure she’d be proud of me.
Chapter 3
Someone nudges me. ‘Time to get up, Sky.’ My father’s voice.
My eyes are filled with gravel as I drag myself to the bathroom. It’s dark. I can’t believe I got my period, talk about the worst timing.
Yesterday, we spent hours at the camp store in the centre of town. My father bought me a seriously expensive snowsuit, extra-warm boots, the most insanely thick, padded socks I’ve ever seen, multiple thermals, and a bunch of other equipment. He spent an absolute fortune. I did offer to pay, and luckily he insisted, because I don’t have anything like that kind of money. We did a tour of the main streets of Anchorage and he explained some of the local history. Like how America bought Alaska from the Russians for two cents an acre, which was a bargain as today the state brings in squillions in oil and minerals.
I wanted him to know I appreciated being here, so I made sure to compliment the little city, which although empty has several giant bear sculptures, bear-proof rubbish bins painted by local artists, funny shop signs like Once in a Blue Moose and cool spots like the Dog Mushing Hall of Fame.
Along the way, I petted several gorgeous doggies who were out and about despite the cold. I didn’t see a single Alaskan husky, but one small pooch wore a furry jacket—too cute—and another had snowshoes. Or socks, really. First time I’ve seen that! I forced my father to take a picture of me kissing the face of the pug-nosed dog with his elderly owners looking on, amused, and then I sent it to Oliver.
We spent the rest of the day sorting through equipment in between mouthfuls of Chinese takeaway. Melody sat yogi-style on the carpet, insisting on helping to roll everything tightly to save space. My father lent Jaxon his own extra thermals and coat, and made up the couch into a bed.
Now I pad downstairs, rubbing my eyes. I hardly slept—my dog Bella is usually curled by my feet and I miss the warmth of her body and even her rhythmic snores. I must have nodded off for a few minutes because I woke from a nightmare. Oliver and Marissa— the most popular girl at my school—were closing the massive door of a spooky-looking mansion with me on the outside, ear pressed to the dark wood, listening to them laugh. When I first started at West Creek High School, Marissa allowed me to join her tight friendship circle. I was one of only a few who received a charm bracelet on her birthday, a gift I highly treasured until our friendship turned sour. I know the nightmare is just my fear rising from when I thought, months ago, that Oliver liked Marissa not me. But he’s just a friendly guy and I know that’s not true.
The rest of the night, I worried about the cold, and tossed and turned as expectations and doubts about the trip swirled. I haven’t learnt much about my father since I landed, except that he lives in a new expensive house, and loves Chinese food and camping.
Halfway down the stairs, I stop. I can hear my father whispering to Jaxon. ‘You got it, bud? I don’t want her knowing yet, it’s too …’ Adam’s voice lowers and I strain to hear.
‘No problem,’ Jaxon says.
They stop talking and dishes start clanking.
‘Hi,’ I say from the bottom of the staircase, scanning their faces, hoping to see a sign of what they were talking about. What’s the secret? What doesn’t he want me knowing?
‘Morning!’ my father says cheerfully, spreading jam on toast, his hair wet from the shower.
‘Excited, or what?’ Jaxon asks me. ‘There’s nothing better than snow camping. Literally. Can’t wait. The weather looks perfect. Coffee! Who wants coffee, and Pop-Tarts anyone?’ He’s bouncing around like a kid.
I’m tired and not hungry. With a wince, I put my hand to my pelvis as my stomach cramps. If I could tap my heels Dorothy-style, I’d be back home now, lying on the couch in my pyjamas watching TV with Paula, dipping her homemade cookies into a mug of tea, Bella curled by my feet.
Melody comes downstairs, yoga mat under her arm. She puts it down in the living room and sits with her legs folded in the lotus position. Her eyes look bleary.
‘I watched TV all night,’ she says to no one in particular, raising her hands to the ceiling and then stretching from side to side. ‘You would not believe this one advertisement I saw; there was an old woman selling guns at a shop called Granny Guns. “For all your firearm needs.” Grannies! Only in America, seriously. And don’t get me started on the others. I can’t stand the capitalist, wasteful consumption, but I have to admit those late-night infomercials are awesome.’ She twists towards me. ‘From a sociological point of view, of course. You would not believe the weird stuff people invent, like, what was that one …’ She twists to the other side. ‘Oh yeah, a towel hat for after a shower. Are people so lazy they can’t wrap towels around their heads? Eli would have loved that one. Those ads are like hypnosis or something—by 3am, I almost called and bought one.’
‘My dad once got this exercise machine,’ Jaxon says, ‘after watching TV all night. Real expensive. That pile of crap is now rusting in our basement; don’t buy the lies.’
‘Lies, lies, it’s all lies,’ Melody says dramatically. ‘And fake news.’ She’s looking at us from between her legs, now in the downward dog pose. Jaxon’s trying not to look.
‘Sky, I thought you may like …’ My father takes out soy cheese, rice yoghurt and almond milk from the fridge. I notice the shelves are well organised, each item in its place.
‘Thanks,’ I say, surprised at his thoughtfulness.
I force myself to take a few bites of food before we pack up and start loading the car.
Melody stops me at the door. ‘How are you feeling, love—everything okay?’
No, I want to tell her, it’s not, at least not between us. I can’t get the image out of my head of Paula walking in on my mum’s friend, Melody, in bed with Adam. That’s how Paula found out. She wanted Melody to come clean to my mum, but she didn’t. It caused a huge wedge between Paula and Melody, and because Melody and Mum later became best friends and roommates, it divided Paula and my mum. Ultimately, it separated Paula from me for years. Melody said that Mum wouldn’t have even cared if she had known, and that Adam and my mum weren’t really boyfriend and girlfriend.
‘I’m fine,’ I say shortly.
Melody hugs me. ‘I hope you have a great time, love. Try not to freeze.’
I pull away. ‘Where is your festival, anyway? Do you have warm enough clothes?’ I ask, forgetting my anger for a moment. I may be worried, but I’m still glad she’s going to be far away from us, far from my father. The thought of them spending time together, possibly rekindling something, is too horrible to bear.
‘Not sure yet, I can’t seem to find the exact info. I know it’s in the forest somewhere south so should be a little warmer, right, Adam?’
He nods. ‘Right. It’s the Japanese trade winds. How are you getting there?’
‘Someone posted a message about carpooling,’ she says, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. ‘Worst case, I’ll try to hitch a ride; supposedly it’s pretty easy here. Someone told me that in winter it’s illegal not to stop for a hitchhiker.’
‘Well, we better be off. Come on, kids, let’s get the show on the road,’ my father says, and I start to gather some more gear.
‘Here, I’ll get that.’ Jaxon takes the heavy duffel bag that’s weighing me down, passing me the light sleeping-bags instead.
‘It’s okay, I can manage.’ I take it back from him. Why is his presence annoying me? I invited him to come along, after all. Now I regret it—sorry, Mum, for being unkind, but I just want to be with my father.
‘Love you.’ Melody squeezes my shoulder as I’m walking out the door.
Be careful, I want to say, but instead I say, ‘See you in a few days.’
Outside, it’s still dark. I zip up all my snow gear, and put on my hat and hood. I’m wearing two layers of thermal underwear, three layers of socks, two fleece jackets and, on top of all that, a waterproof snowsuit. I’ve never worn so many clothes in my life.
I take a selfie, freezing my fingers off in the process, then hop into the front seat next to my father. He scrapes the windscreen free of snow and starts the engine, and Jaxon jumps onto the back seat. If he had a spirit animal today, it would be an overexcited puppy. Mine would be a sloth.
I look back at the house, Melody closing the door. My nose is about to fall off. Camping in this weather? It’s madness.
‘I’m making a playlist for the car.’ Jaxon leans into the front seat. ‘What bands are you into?’
‘Mostly pop—I don’t really know much about bands and stuff …’
‘Pop. Okay. Want to hear what I’m into?’ He pulls out his phone and earbuds from his pocket.
‘Sure,’ I say. I’m looking at my father, who’s engrossed in a big paper map. Hasn’t he heard of apps?
Jaxon deliberates for a moment. ‘Let’s go with this one, first.’
I put in the earbuds.
‘Can you hear?’
I give him a thumbs up, and my father finally pulls out of the driveway as the sounds of electric guitars fill my ears. But they’re not harsh: the notes are dreamlike, slow and weirdly beautiful. Maybe this is what Hawaii feels like; I imagine lying in a hammock with a coconut drink in my hand.
We reach the highway as Jaxon chooses another song. A woman’s beautiful voice croons—I can’t understand a single lyric but now I feel like I’m on a boat.
I take out an earbud. ‘What kind of music is this, anyway?’
‘Some people call it slouch rock,’ he says.
‘Weird name,’ I say, turning to look out the window where streetlights are glowing and there’s snow, snow and snow everywhere.
My phone beeps from my pocket and I hit pause on Jaxon’s song.
A message from Paula: Middle of the night but I can’t sleep. How are you, sweetie? Dave’s been a prince, set up the TV in our room, downloaded all the latest chick flicks, I’m living the life. But I’m thinking of you every minute. Good luck with your father.
She’s attached a photo of her lying in bed. She’s not far enough along to show her belly popping out yet. Poor Paula, I know she’s had miscarriages in the past and with an early complication in this pregnancy, she’s meant to stay horizontal as much as possible. She’s even put a limit on making tea, which for her is torture. And I know she’s scared. She’s wanted this baby for a long time.
I send her a heart emoji, a selfie and a bunch of pics from town, and then press play again on the music. It’s rich, layered and totally different to anything I’ve listened to before.
Jaxon’s still leaning forward, now peering at the open map sitting between me and my father.
He and Oliver are total opposites. Oliver’s hair is the colour of maple syrup, his eyes green like wild grass. Jaxon’s black shaggy hair has a slight curl. His dark eyes sparkle when he laughs.
‘Want to hear more? There’s a new band in town, tell me what you think of this.’ He takes his phone and opens YouTube, locates a video and hits play.
The song is rawer, more folky. A male voice sings, or rather speaks in song, kind of like poetry. There’s a trumpet, or is it a saxophone or a clarinet? I can never tell.
‘Like it?’ he asks, watching me closely.
‘Sure.’
‘That’s my band. Trent and I are in the battle of the bands at the local performing arts centre in a couple of weeks.’
‘You play the guitar?’
‘No, Trent’s the guitar pro, I’m the singer.’
‘The lead?’
He smiles. ‘How old are you, anyway?’
‘I’ll be sixteen this week.’
‘You’re going to have your birthday here? Awesome.’
‘Actually, I’ve got something planned for Sky and me,’ my father says.
‘You knew it was my birthday?’ I ask him.
‘Paula mentioned it,’ he says.
Paula, always one step ahead.
Jaxon leans back in his seat, working on the playlist. Now’s the time to talk to my father. I hope we have lots in common, that my fantasy of the perfect dad is really possible. First question: what does he do?
‘Do you work at the national park too? Is that how you know Jaxon?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘Oh, so you’re still fishing? Do you go, like, every summer on the boats?’ I’m still seeing the Father’s Day ad, and even though I don’t eat fish I could definitely do a scenic trip in summer, my father by my side. Sun warming my back, I’d take the wheel, steering our boat away from the coast as a salty breeze curled my hair. At sunset, we’d see a whale migrating north to her feeding grounds. She would slap the water with her flipper, saying hello.
‘No, I stopped fishing many years ago,’ he says, breaking my reverie. ‘As for the national parks, Jaxon’s tracking wolf births and deaths, and marking the location of dens. But they’re top secret. There’s a ton of people who’d want to get their hands on them.’
‘Who’d want to hurt wolves?’ I ask.
‘Wolves?’ Jaxon leans forward again. ‘It’s crazy complicated, the politics, you wouldn’t believe—’
I cut him off to ask my father, ‘So you love animals like me?’
; ‘Well … sure, I love the wilderness,’ he says. ‘No better place than Alaska. Although Australia has its beautiful spots too and remarkable wildlife. What do you feel like eating, by the way? We can stop at this little diner, let me check how far it is …’ He picks up the map.
He’s changing the subject again and I can’t help but wonder why.
Chapter 4
My phone beeps. ‘Sorry,’ I say as Adam veers from one highway to another. A tall snowy embankment separates us from the occasional bright headlight coming towards us. Blackwoods whoosh by on my right, long, skinny tree trunks making shapes out of the darkness. ‘Just a quick message.’
‘Go for it,’ he says. ‘Jaxon, have you tried your dad again this morning?’
‘I’ll call again now.’
I look down at my phone. You won’t believe what happened last night, Lucy writes.
I check my watch. It’s the middle of the night?! I reply.
Gotta feed our new baby magpie every few hours.
Aww. I send heart eyes.
Lucy’s parents, Mark and Gail, have a whole section of their bird rescue, rehabilitation and release shelter dedicated to magpies. They have licences to care for many other native bird species too, even birds of prey like brown falcons. They gave Chirp a spacious home among them, despite her not being native, or ever being able to be released back into the wild.
So what happened? I ask.
Remember the guy I danced with at the gala, Malcolm?
Sure. Tall with red hair.
He followed my Instagram and …
The message pauses and I can see she’s typing.
What? I butt in. You started Instagram and didn’t tell me? I add a shocked emoji.
I sent you a message two days ago!
Hold on. I open the Instagram app and there it is, Lucy’s page. Full of her own, original, delicate, beautiful illustrations of birds and other animals. OMG, awesome.
She sends a smiley face. Finally getting my stuff out there like you told me to. Anyway, he followed me.
I quickly scan Malcolm’s Insta page—it’s filled with geology memes and pics of rocks. Hilarious.
Snow Page 3
