She clutched the armrests again, closed her eyes, prepared.
They landed with a hard thump, and waves pounded the pontoons. The pilot killed the engine, jumped out of the plane, splashing into the ice-cold water, dragging the float plane higher onto the shore, tying it to a fallen log. Slush floated around his ankles.
Leni got out of the plane carefully （nothing was more dangerous up here than getting wet in the winter）， walked along the float, and jumped out onto the slushy beach. Matthew was right behind her.
Ms. Rhodes gathered the few students together on the icy shore. “Okay, kids. The littles and I are going to hike over to the ridge. Matthew, you and Leni just go exploring. Have some fun.”
Leni looked around. The beauty of this place, the majesty of it, was overwhelming. A deep and abiding peace existed here; there were no human voices, no thumping footsteps, no laughter or engines running. The natural world spoke loudest here, the breathing of the tide across the rocks, the slap of water on the float plane’s pontoons, the distant barking of sea lions lumped together on a rock, being circled by chattering gulls.
The water beyond the shore ice was a stunning aqua, the color Leni imagined the Caribbean Sea to be, with a snowy shoreline decorated with huge white-covered black rocks. Snowcapped peaks muscled in close. Up high, Leni saw ivory-colored dots scattered on the impossibly steep sides—mountain goats. She reached into her pocket for her last, precious roll of film.
She couldn’t wait to take some pictures, but she had to be judicious with the film.
Where would she start? The ice-glazed beach rocks that looked like seed pearls? The frozen fern fronds growing up from a snow-rounded black log? The turquoise water? She turned toward Matthew, started to say something, but he was gone.
She turned, felt icy water shushing over her boots, and saw Matthew standing far down the beach, alone, his arms crossed. He had dropped his parka; it lay inches away from the incoming waves. His hair whipped across his face.
She splashed through the water toward him, reached out. “Matthew, you need to put your coat on. It’s cold—”
He yanked away from her touch, stumbled away. “Get away from me,” he said harshly. “I don’t want you to see…”
“Matthew?” She grabbed his arm, forced him to look at her. His eyes were red-rimmed from crying.
He shoved her away. She stumbled back, tripped over a piece of driftwood, and fell hard.
It happened fast enough to take her breath away. She lay there, sprawled on the frozen rocks, the cold water washing toward her, and stared up at him, her elbow stinging with pain.
“Oh, my God,” he said. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to do that.”
Leni got to her feet, stared at him. I didn’t mean to do that. The same words she’d heard spoken by her dad.
“There’s something wrong with me,” Matthew said in a shaky voice. “My dad blames me and I can’t sleep for shit, and without my mom, the house is so quiet that I want to scream.”
Leni didn’t know how to respond.
“I have nightmares … about Mom. I see her face, under the ice … screaming … I don’t know what to do. I didn’t want you to know.”
“Why?”
“I want you to like me. Sometimes you’re the only thing … Oh, shit … forget it.” He shook his head, started crying again. “I’m a loser.”
“No. You just need some help,” she said. “Who wouldn’t? After what you’ve been through.”
“My aunt in Fairbanks wants me to come live with her. She thinks I should play hockey and learn to fly and see a shrink. I’d get to be with Aly. Unless…” He looked at Leni.
“So you’ll go to Fairbanks,” she said quietly.
He sighed heavily. She thought maybe it had already been decided and he’d been waiting to tell her all along. “I’ll miss you.”
He was going. Leaving.
At that, she felt an aching sense of sorrow expand in her chest. She would miss him so much, but he needed help. Because of her father, she knew what nightmares and sadness and a lack of sleep could do to a person, what a toxic combination that could be. What kind of friend would she be if she cared more about herself than him?
I’ll miss you, she wanted to say back to him, but what was the point? Words didn’t help.
*
AFTER MATTHEW LEFT, January got darker. Colder.
“Leni, would you set the table for dinner?” Mama asked on a particularly cold and stormy night, with wind clawing to get in, snow swirling. She was frying up some Spam in a cast-iron skillet, pressing down on it with her spatula. Two slices of Spam for three people was all they had.