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“We went the wrong way,” he said finally. His voice was phlegmy and low. “I … there’s a big sugar shack I go to when she … when she goes off like that. But you turned the wrong way, okay? I didn’t realize you turned the wrong way.”
“Well, do you know where we are?”
“No,” he said. “Not really.”
“What? What do you mean, not really? Come on!”
Peter made an arc with one gloved hand back toward the way they came. “I’m only allowed to ATV those trails, not this one.”
“Why?”
“There’s some older guys … this is the trail to Timmins. Some of the bush guys aren’t very nice. They don’t know me, not without my dad.”
“Is everyone up here crazy?” she asked.
“Shut up!”
Hannah looked ahead on the trail. It was starting to become hazy in the distance as the warm air of the half snow hit the cold air above the snowpack.
“How far away is it?”
“How far away is what?” he asked, as though talking to her was the worst thing he could be doing with his time.
She rolled her eyes. “Timmins.”
He glared at her. “I don’t know. Farther than you can handle, anyway.”
“How far?”
“Too far to go with stupid dogs, that’s for sure.”
“Jerk!”
“Just shut up,” he said again.
“Well, stop being a complete jerk!” she snapped back. Her voice rose into the snow but was smothered almost immediately, making her even more annoyed.
Peter carefully pulled his mitt off and gave her the middle finger.
They yelled at each other then for a long time, calling each other names and throwing things — mostly snow. Once Peter stepped toward her with his palms out, like he was going to shove her again, but she stepped forward, too, and he went back to calling her names. He called her a coward and other, worse things that only made her madder, and she threw words back at him until they were standing face to face just yelling swear words at each other, swear words that didn’t even make sense.
Hannah had no idea how long they had been doing this (or how much longer they would have continued) when the sky suddenly lit up a shocking, blinding white, and there was an ear-splitting boom: thunder.
They both jumped, startled. It was as though Hannah had been looking through a telescope at nothing but Peter’s angry eyes, but now she was seeing his stupid thick glasses and his stupid grey eyes and his stupid flat face with pimples all over his neck. The world popped back into focus and she felt the snow — no, it was freezing rain now — sliding down her neck and into her collar, wetting her hair. They could keep hating each other later; they had bigger problems right now.
CHAPTER TWELVE
They had to get out of the rain, Hannah knew. If the same weather cycle carried on — she realized with surprise that a part of her had been tracking it — that meant it would rain, and then it would get cold again. Very cold. And everything would freeze.
They could go back to Jeb’s. She thought about that for a while, felt the weight of it in her mind, the longing for it all to be simple and easy: a fire going in the cabin and Jeb okay again, Jeb calling the right people and then going to get Kelli and their mom, and finally everyone together and warm and fed.
Peter walked over to the side of the trail, and Hannah came and stood next to him. He pointed toward the forest.
“Okay. I think there’s a hut a ways over there,” he said. “Well, it’s more a lean-to. It’s small, but there’s stuff in it.”
“Stuff?”
“Matches, a sleeping bag. We could stay there. Maybe. Sometimes she’s okay again right away.”
