keep sharing with your friends. And also, I think this trip and the memories are starting to really get to Justin. I’m doing everything I can—getting his favorite foods and trying to stay positive—but somehow, I just think I’m making it worse. Can you all leave some comments showing your support? Don’t tell him I asked. But I’ll read them to him and hopefully it will lift his spirits. He’s been . . . down.
Okay, so I’ll see you once we’re in the land of the Rockies. Thank you to all of you for sharing this journey with us. We appreciate it more than you know.
2 Down
10 To Go
—L
Comments
Mia: You can do this, Justin. Proud of you!
Tomás: Hang in there, buddy.
Trenton: Man up, dude!
Mrs. Jacobs: You boys stay safe and our thoughts are with you on this journey, Justin!
Chase: I’ll rally the team to visit the blog, all right? Proud of you, man.
Chapter Five
I trudged, one foot in front of the other, dust swirling under my soles.
Clomp. Clomp.
Clomp. Clomp.
Again and again, I marched, matching my steps to the beat of my heart.
I squinted through the viewfinder of my camera.
Click. Click.
The shutter whirred as I took in the sites along the trail to Pikes Peak in Colorado. According to the brochure, Pikes Peak was 14,115 feet above sea level and was the farthest east peak in the Rocky Mountain chain. The Pikes Peak Highway to the summit was paved, so we’d driven Sally most of the way and then walked the rest to get some pictures.
A yellow-bellied marmot—according to a small placard along the trail—peeked out above a rock and blinked at us.
I raised my camera.
“Hey, little buddy,” Landry said, and the rodent took off, my shutter clicking a second too late.
I whirled around. “Damn it, Landry, can’t you shut up? I missed the shot.”
The smile withered on his face. His jaw clenched and his eyes blazed, but then the fire died. “Sorry,” he whispered. And my self-loathing escalated on the scale to about 150 percent for killing his light.
I was such a bastard.
A self-hating, frustrated, closeted bastard who had been taking out his anger on the one person who deserved it the least.
I didn’t even apologize, I just turned around and kept walking. Landry’s footsteps behind me sounded heavier, like he’d picked up an extra fifty pounds in the last minute.
Fuck me.
I’d been an asshole the last couple of days, but ever since that moment on that fucking obstacle course, the equilibrium of our friendship had been completely off. Now every time Landry bumped his shoulder with mine or brushed his fingers along my skin, I wanted to scream, each touch like the needle of a tattoo gun piercing me again and again like a permanent fingerprint.
I don’t know if he was actually hovering more, or if I was imagining it, but I was ever aware of his presence, like a big talking, living pink elephant in the room.
He probably thought it was the grief getting to me—and it was—but my mood was caused by the sum of everything. The loss of my dad and the dread of my future and the weight of my life crushing me.
When we reached the top, I placed the urn on a flat spot on a rock. I remembered when Dad told me about his visit here. He’d loved the scenery and the deep breaths of cool air. It was one of the many places he’d promised he’d take me. Which never happened.
I took pictures of the urn and sprinkled the ash, watching as it washed over the rocks and carried away on the breeze. The whole time, Landry’s breathing was loud in the still, quiet air, like waves crashing over my head, every movement of his seeming to block out the sun.
Finally, I turned to him. “Can you just . . . go away? Or something?”
His eyes grew so big, I thought he was going to cry, and I wasn’t that much of an asshole. “I’m sorry, I mean, I just want some time to myself. With Dad. That’s all. Okay?”
He bit his lip and nodded. Then he smiled, the muscles of his face straining with the
Okay, so I’ll see you once we’re in the land of the Rockies. Thank you to all of you for sharing this journey with us. We appreciate it more than you know.
2 Down
10 To Go
—L
Comments
Mia: You can do this, Justin. Proud of you!
Tomás: Hang in there, buddy.
Trenton: Man up, dude!
Mrs. Jacobs: You boys stay safe and our thoughts are with you on this journey, Justin!
Chase: I’ll rally the team to visit the blog, all right? Proud of you, man.
Chapter Five
I trudged, one foot in front of the other, dust swirling under my soles.
Clomp. Clomp.
Clomp. Clomp.
Again and again, I marched, matching my steps to the beat of my heart.
I squinted through the viewfinder of my camera.
Click. Click.
The shutter whirred as I took in the sites along the trail to Pikes Peak in Colorado. According to the brochure, Pikes Peak was 14,115 feet above sea level and was the farthest east peak in the Rocky Mountain chain. The Pikes Peak Highway to the summit was paved, so we’d driven Sally most of the way and then walked the rest to get some pictures.
A yellow-bellied marmot—according to a small placard along the trail—peeked out above a rock and blinked at us.
I raised my camera.
“Hey, little buddy,” Landry said, and the rodent took off, my shutter clicking a second too late.
I whirled around. “Damn it, Landry, can’t you shut up? I missed the shot.”
The smile withered on his face. His jaw clenched and his eyes blazed, but then the fire died. “Sorry,” he whispered. And my self-loathing escalated on the scale to about 150 percent for killing his light.
I was such a bastard.
A self-hating, frustrated, closeted bastard who had been taking out his anger on the one person who deserved it the least.
I didn’t even apologize, I just turned around and kept walking. Landry’s footsteps behind me sounded heavier, like he’d picked up an extra fifty pounds in the last minute.
Fuck me.
I’d been an asshole the last couple of days, but ever since that moment on that fucking obstacle course, the equilibrium of our friendship had been completely off. Now every time Landry bumped his shoulder with mine or brushed his fingers along my skin, I wanted to scream, each touch like the needle of a tattoo gun piercing me again and again like a permanent fingerprint.
I don’t know if he was actually hovering more, or if I was imagining it, but I was ever aware of his presence, like a big talking, living pink elephant in the room.
He probably thought it was the grief getting to me—and it was—but my mood was caused by the sum of everything. The loss of my dad and the dread of my future and the weight of my life crushing me.
When we reached the top, I placed the urn on a flat spot on a rock. I remembered when Dad told me about his visit here. He’d loved the scenery and the deep breaths of cool air. It was one of the many places he’d promised he’d take me. Which never happened.
I took pictures of the urn and sprinkled the ash, watching as it washed over the rocks and carried away on the breeze. The whole time, Landry’s breathing was loud in the still, quiet air, like waves crashing over my head, every movement of his seeming to block out the sun.
Finally, I turned to him. “Can you just . . . go away? Or something?”
His eyes grew so big, I thought he was going to cry, and I wasn’t that much of an asshole. “I’m sorry, I mean, I just want some time to myself. With Dad. That’s all. Okay?”
He bit his lip and nodded. Then he smiled, the muscles of his face straining with the
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