Nothing else I try sticks, either, so finally I decide to just go for it. Maybe a walk around the Alaskan wilderness is exactly what I need to clear my head.
But deciding to go for a walk and actually getting ready for one are two very different things up here. I take a quick shower and then—because I’m a total newbie—I google how to dress for an Alaskan winter. Turns out the answer is very carefully, even when it’s only November.
Once I pull up a site that looks reputable, the clothes Macy made sure I have make a lot more sense. I start with the wool tights she got me and one of my tank tops, then add a layer of long underwear—pants and shirt. After the underwear, I slip into fleece pants in hot pink （of course） and a fleece jacket in gray. The site gives me the option of another, heavier jacket to go over this one, but it’s nowhere near as cold as it’s going to get in a couple of months, so I decide to skip it and go straight for the hat, scarf, gloves, and two pairs of socks. Finally, I finish with the down-filled hooded parka my uncle got me and the pair of snow boots rated for Denali that are at the bottom of my closet.
A quick look in the mirror tells me I look as ridiculous as I feel.
But I figure I’ll look even more ridiculous if I freeze to death on my second full day in Alaska, so I ignore the feeling. Besides, if I end up getting really warm during my walk, I can take off the fleece layer—or so the online guide suggests, as sweat is the enemy up here. Apparently walking around in wet clothes can lead to hypothermia. So…just like everything else in this state.
Instead of texting her and interrupting one of her tests, I leave Macy a note telling her I’m going to explore the school grounds—I’m not foolish enough to actually wander out past the wall into the wilderness, where there are wolves and bears and God only knows what else.
Then I head out. As I walk down the stairs, I ignore pretty much everyone I come across—which is almost nobody, since most of the school is in class right now. I should probably feel guilty that I’m not, but to be honest, I just feel relieved.
Once I’m on the ground floor, I take the first outside door I can find and then nearly change my mind as the wind and cold all but slap me in the face.
Maybe I should have put on that extra layer after all…
It’s too late now, so I pull my hoodie up over my head and duck my scarf-covered face down into my parka’s high collar. Then I set out across the yard, despite the fact that every instinct I have is screaming at me to go back inside.
But I’ve always heard you’re supposed to start something how you plan to end it, and I am not going to be a prisoner inside the school for the next year. Over my dead freaking body.
I shove my hands in my pockets and begin to walk.
At first, I’m so miserable that all I can think about is the cold and how it feels against my skin, despite the fact that nearly every inch of me is covered in multiple layers.
But the more I walk, the warmer I become, so I up my pace and finally get the chance to start looking around. The sun rose about four hours ago—at nearly ten a.m.—so this is my first daylight look at the wilderness.
I’m struck by how beautiful everything is, even here on the campus grounds. We’re on the side of a mountain, so everything is sloped, which means I’m constantly walking up or down one hill or another—not easy, considering the altitude, but at least I’m breathing a lot easier than I was two days ago.
There aren’t a lot of different plants here right now, but there are a bunch of evergreens lining the various walkways and clustered at different points around campus. They’re a beautiful green against the backdrop of white snow that covers nearly everything out here.
Curious what it feels like—but not ridiculous enough to take off my gloves—I bend down and scoop up a handful of snow, then let it slip through my fingers just to see how it falls. When my hand is empty, I bend down and scoop up some more, then do what Flint said earlier and pat it into a ball.
It’s easier than I thought it would be, and it takes only a few seconds before I’m hurling the snow as hard as I can at the nearest tree on the left side of where the path forks ahead. I watch with satisfaction as it hits the trunk and explodes, before heading toward the path just beyond it.
But as I walk closer to the tree, I realize I’ve never seen anything like its dark, twisted roots. Huge and gray and gnarled together in a chaotic mess that looks like something out of a really bad nightmare, they all but scream for passersby to beware. Add in the broken branches and ripped-up bark off the trunk and the thing looks like it belongs in the middle of a horror movie instead of Katmere’s otherwise pristine campus.