Page 5 of Snow Globe Secrets

The guy sent a picture, clearly taken through a window, of what I could only assume was Mount Pheasant. I could see two slopes slicing their way through the evergreens.

The Excuse: Wow. Killer view. Mt. Pheasant?

The Stranger: Yup.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, having my parents’ old friend nearby if he lived that close to one of the best ski resorts in the area.

The Excuse: Glad I know the bus schedule now. I might have to come visit in the new year to tackle those slopes.

I’d typed that last message on my way to my exam, this strange feeling of wanting to keep up the conversation with this guy compelling me to comment each time he did. Only he didn’t respond to that last one, and I worried I had come off as presumptuous, when I’d only meant it as a joke. I know my dad had said the guy would be alone if he weren’t coming to Jersey with me for the holidays. He sounded like a lone wolf. Maybe he wasn’t the type to have guests over, especially not guests interested in skiing since he didn’t partake.

I felt pretty good after the exam, like maybe my intense studying had paid off. I usually slung my backpack over one shoulder, but I put it on properly before leaving the lecture hall so I could hoist the duffle bag I had dragged with me over one shoulder and carry my bag of gifts. Then I affixed my earbuds, put some music on, and walked to the bus stop near the north side of campus. With only a few minutes until the bus was expected, I didn’t bother to sit on the bench, opting to pace back and forth to keep warm. I was glad when the bus arrived on time, as the wind had started to pick up and the cold to really seep in despite my efforts. I clambered onto the bus and got settled before pulling up my texting app.

The Excuse: OMW, but not to crash at your place and ski, unfortunately.

The Stranger: Why ski when you can spend five hours in a car to go to the beach …

The Stranger: … in December.

I was still laughing out loud, causing odd looks from the other people on the bus, when the next text came through: a long string of the same snowflake emoji I had sent him. Okay, maybe the guy had a sense of humor; that would make for a much better drive home than listening to him talk about corporate mergers, or God forbid, the good old days with my parents.

Before I zoned out on the bus, I set a timer, not wanting to sleep through my stop. There were only a few others on the bus, most of whom had gotten on with me at the campus stop. Other college kids heading home for the winter break, I assumed, as we all had that burned-out look of exhaustion that came from exam week. I was almost looking forward to a long drive with a virtual stranger. No lecture notes, no looming exams, just five hours in a car? Truck? Probably an SUV. Ooh, or maybe a midlife-crisis sports car, that would be fun. There would probably be retro music involved, but I was okay with retro. I put on a playlist from around the time my parents married and heaved a thankful sigh that my penultimate semester was complete, and I was headed home for the holidays.

I don’t think I had quite fallen asleep, but my eyes were shut and my thoughts elusive, so the alarm did startle me. The bus was still moving, and I looked out the window, hoping to spot a traffic sign and confirm my location. I was surprised to instead find big, heavy snowflakes cascading down outside.

“No, not till tomorrow,” I muttered out loud as I pulled my phone out of my jacket pocket. Snow was not an uncommon occurrence in Upstate New York, but the last I’d checked, it wasn’t supposed to start until Thursday, and Mr. Glenn and I had agreed to get out in front of it. Maybe this was just flurries and not the big storm that has dominated the news for the past few days, I thought, even though the scene out the window contradicted me with each heavy flake that plummeted to the ground. It was sticking to the median, and when I strained and checked the roadway next to me, it appeared to be clinging to the asphalt as well.

“Fuck,” I muttered out loud, and the guy across from me shot me a sympathetic smile. Maybe the storm had surprised us all.

I checked my GPS and could see that we would be at the Mount Pheasant bus stop shortly. I fired up my text app once again. First, a message to Mr. Glenn.

The Excuse: Should be to Mt. Ph in a few. What’s with the snow? Did I fall asleep on the bus, and it’s already Thursday? If so, I owe you an apology for being a day late.

The Stranger: Apology accepted. Pretty rude of the bus driver, though, not to wake you.

The Excuse: Right?

I laughed out loud, and the guy across the way acknowledged me again.

“Looks pretty shitty out there,” he said.

“Even for Hampstead!” I replied. “I thought we had another day.”

“Me too. I’d hoped to get home before the storm exploded. I’ve got three more hours.”

“Good luck, man. I’ve got five.”

My neighbor went back to nervously looking out the window, and I went back to texting. In the group chat I shared with my parents, I wrote:

Austin: Off the bus in 10. I’ll let you know when Mr. G and I are on the road.

Mom responded almost immediately.

Mom: It’s not snowing there yet, is it? The storm shifted, and it’s already started here.

Austin: Yup, the storm shifted right over this bus, but it’s not terrible yet. Looks like it just started to stick.

I didn’t think I was lying. I’d know better when the bus stopped.