Nope.
My mother is the least of my concerns right now. Most of all, I don’t want anything to mess up what we have going here. For me or for them.
Two weeks later, fall has totally vanished in the Sierra Nevadas. The leaves are gone. Thick, puffy clouds cling to the mountain tops and snow falls in the distance. I’m excited about my first snowy winter, but I’ve had to order a bunch of clothes online—some still in transit. The lack of humidity and dry, cold air definitely took me by surprise.
When the final day of our service project comes around, I’m astonished by the outpouring of generosity in the area. So many people know families affected by the fires that it’s not hard to get them involved. By the date of the collection pickup, we’ve well-exceeded our five-thousand-can goal.
It’s the Saturday afternoon before Thanksgiving and I’ve talked the boys into helping. Christina, like she said, is good with a spreadsheet, and commands our small army by Margaret’s side
. To be honest, I’m thankful, because I’d rather be a worker bee anyway.
By mid-morning, all the boxes are collected from around town and we’re in the cafeteria, sorting food into smaller packages that we’ll hand deliver. The weather, of course, is awful. Cold, rainy, and dark.
“I’m giving each driver a list of five deliveries,” Christina says once everything has been sorted. She walks by and hands the sheet to Dexter without looking up. Her eyes do linger on Jake, who’s shoving a piece of cold pizza into his mouth, and then rolls her eyes at him. Obviously, she’s not quite over the homecoming thing yet, although rumor around school is that she’s dating some sophomore down at University of Reno. “Once you’re done, you can head home.”
“Call if there are any issues, okay?” Margaret says. “And watch the weather. I just got a push alert that snow is likely tonight, so make sure you get those done ASAP.”
“There’s eight houses on this list,” Dexter says, walking up to Christina.
“Yeah, sorry, someone had to do extra.”
“And that someone is me?”
She shrugs and walks off, boots clicking on the hard floor.
George follows her but she ignores him. Charlie checks the time. “Let’s get moving. I’ve got a game set up for tonight at seven.”
Dexter hands me the sheet and the guys grab the boxes. In the car, we fit all five in the back and then get in. Dex turns the heat on high. Unfortunately, the Jeep sucks in cold weather. “Are those blankets still in the back?” I ask, sitting on my hands.
“Let me check,” Jake says. He unearths two and tosses me both.
“You want one?”
“Nah, George is like a fucking furnace. We’re toasty.”
Dexter pulls out in the road and I ask, “Do you think it’s going to snow?”
“Probably,” he says. “If not tonight, soon.”
I can’t help but bounce in my seat, a little giddy. “We don’t get that much back home. Maybe a few days here and there, then it melts right away.”
Dex glances at me and smiles at my excitement. “Enjoy it while you can. Come February, you’ll be over it.”
I’m sure he’s right, but I can’t imagine that yet. The rain doesn’t stop as we make the deliveries. They’re all over the area south of June Lake, down muddy dirt roads, and twice, we get lost.
“I swear Christina gave us the shittiest route,” Charlie mumbles, eye on the clock. It’s only five o’clock but we’re an hour away from home and we have one delivery left.
“Probably,” Jake says. “I knew she was being too quiet about the homecoming thing. This is probably her revenge.”
“If this is her revenge, then she’s not very good at it,” Dexter says, navigating around a massive pot hole. “Starlee, check the map. Do you see the house?”
“Yeah, it should be about two blocks away.”
We locate the house—well, it’s really a trailer, literally in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by a herd of dirty, gray sheep. Jake and George hop out and deliver the box of food to a woman at the door. She has two kids huddled around her feet. The look on her face is heartwarming and it hammers home the fact that while the weather may be awful and it’s cold and we’re running late, at least we have each other and homes to go to.
“Alright,” Charlie says, when the guys get back in the car, shivering from the cold. “Let’s get back home.”
“Dude, chill,” George says. “It’s a game.”