Page 17 of Hearts Overboard

Port of Call: Skagway, Alaska

While Tanner and I were outside, our parents had shifted tables, so our dads were together with Mr. Ramirez, and our moms were with his wife. Tanner and I took an empty one, and he broke out the playing cards until a guide came on the speakers.

She talked about the Klondike gold rush coming through Skagway in the late 1800s, and how the people had to carry many loads of supplies up this trail on foot or horses. How they hurried to build the railroad in two years to reach the gold fields, and how it was listed as an engineering landmark.

Tanner was oddly quiet. I figured he’d been contemplating our conversation until he said, “Can you imagine coming here, hoping to strike it rich, and then carrying all your stuff?”

“You mean the terror, not having a road, no one to call for help? Lots and lots of bears?”

“That’s what made early people so interesting. The courage it took to do things we take for granted.” His eyes were gleaming.

“You like history.” My words came out like an accusation.

“What? I do not.”

“You totally do. Nerd.” A smile took over my face.

“No way. Memorizing all those dates? That class is the worst.” He leaned back and tried to look casual.

“Didn’t you get an A? There’s more to history than dates. Like you were saying, there’s the people who lived it. Their stories. What it was like. Making it come alive.”

His eyes narrowed playfully, and he pointed at me. “Don’t get ideas. I’m not majoring in history. Do you have any idea how many boring books I’d have to read? I bet the tests are like giant lists of dates and you have to say everything that happened in the entire world.”

“I don’t think that’s accurate.”

“I’m pretty sure it is.”

“You liked when the ATV guide talked about Ketchikan, too. Oh, and that project when we wrote plays about the explorers and you wanted to star in all of them. Or field trips to the missions when you volunteered for the demonstrations.” I’d always assumed he liked being the center of attention. But knowing it might have been more than that made me smile.

“Keep trying,” he said. “I’m not studying history for four years.”

I mock frowned at him. “Fine. I will find something.”

“I know you will. You’re incapable of failing.”

I blinked at him.

“It’s a compliment, S’more. Can you accept those?”

“Usually. But it’s weird coming from you.”

“I’m going to do it all the time, to mess with you.”

He smirked, and we rolled our eyes at each other, but it was friendlier than before.

The guide was now pointing out an abandoned cantilever bridge spanning a deep gorge.

“Nice,” I said. “Look at the beautiful angles. It’s fascinating, how they could build something like that back then. And the engineering is so elegant. I like the trestle bridges. They’re classic. But that one is incredible.”

“Now who’s the nerd?” he asked.

“I never tried to hide that fact. I wish I’d seen this before our bridge project in physics. I would have built one.”

He opened his mouth but closed it. Studied me.

“What?”

“You like building stuff, that’s all. Are you going to miss physics?”

I straightened the forgotten deck of cards. “Mr. Lin wants me to do this program next year. Extracurricular physics and engineering. Projects and field trips and a competition.” The thought of the names and places and events in that email was making my heart race.

“That sounds cool,” he said. “Are you going to do it?”

I slid him the cards, hoping my hands weren’t shaking. “I haven’t decided.”

“Hmm.” He studied me but didn’t say anything else, and I almost asked what he was thinking before deciding I’d rather not know.

We had reached the mountain pass and were now in Canada, above the trees and into a subalpine environment with rocks and grass and flowers. They served box lunches, with a sandwich, chips, and bottled water.

“Are you planning to eat that?” Tanner asked.

“Yes. Why?”

“I was hoping this was on your do-not-touch list so I could eat two of them.”

“It’s a turkey sandwich. Why would I not eat a turkey sandwich?”

He tore open the bag of chips. “I don’t know. Maybe one betrayed you once.”

“You’ve seen me eat sandwiches.” I paused. “You can have my pickle, though.”

“Sweet.” He reached over the table and snagged it, grinning.

Sharing food and interests. Apologies. Compliments.

I had entered an alternate dimension or parallel universe. Today couldn’t possibly be real.

The train reached an area of small lakes, the water right alongside the tracks, a pale but brilliant aqua blue. The scenery here physically stopped my breath. Maybe nature, like Tanner, wasn’t the worst.

We’d traveled out of the clouds and into blue skies. The track led along the shore of a huge lake backed by mountains. The peaks and trees reflected in still water. We stopped alongside the lake, where a big red barnlike depot waited, and the spire of an old church was visible on a nearby hill.

We got off and ambled toward a trailhead, where a sign informed us we were in bear country. That was not a country I wanted to visit.

I could just wait on the nice, comfy train….

Someone near us was holding a small canister and inspecting it. When he shook it and held out his other arm, the guy with him grabbed his hand.

“Dude. That’s bear spray.”

“Yeah, it keep the bears away.”

“It doesn’t work like bug spray, man. You spray the bear, not yourself.”

“Why would I spray the bear?”

Tanner and I sped up to pass them so we could hide how hard we were laughing. Before I knew it, we were partway up the trail. The bear spray had worked to repel my nerves, at least.

It was a mild climb, with scattered pine trees, and when we reached the top, Tanner spread his arms and raised his eyebrows at me in challenge.

The view was gorgeous. We climbed onto a boulder. The lake stretched so far into the distance, I couldn’t see the end. Mountains framed both sides, ringed in pine trees, like they were cupping the clear turquoise water.

My breath suspended in my chest as I took it in. No unease crept in, only peace.

Tanner stood beside me in silence before wrapping his arms around me, trapping mine at my sides. He lifted me off the ground.

“Bear hug,” he said.

“Oh no, the bad jokes are contagious. Make it stop.”

“Want me to put you down?” He took one step toward the edge of the boulder, nowhere near falling, and I swatted him as best I could with my arms stuck.

“I’d never drop you,” he said in my ear.

His hold was sturdy, and I was locked in, and I believed him.

“Aw, you two are so cute,” said a woman coming up the trail.

Tanner put me down, smiling, and the idea wasn’t as terrible as the last time someone had said it.

Canada was messing with me again.

We headed down the trail and Tanner stepped in front of me, his back to me, with his arms out. “Want a ride? So you don’t slip again? Jump on.”

Definitely an alternate dimension. I let him give me a piggyback ride, his arms strong on my thighs, my hands clasped at his chest. Despite my height, I felt tiny.

We passed a kid and mom wandering the trail, the kid straggling behind.

Tanner stopped, and I slid off his back.

“Hey, buddy,” Tanner said. “That’s a big backpack you’ve got.”

“It has my comics and my Spider-Man and my jacket and my rocks.”

Sounded legit to me.

Tanner knelt by him. “It will be easier to walk if you wear both straps. It distributes the weight better. Spider-Man is heavy. He’s a lot for one shoulder.”

The boy inspected him as if debating whether Tanner looked like someone who would give trustworthy advice then tugged the other strap on and stood taller.

“Perfect,” Tanner said.

They marched off, and I studied Tanner while trying not to let him notice. I was getting an idea for his eight-year plan, but I wasn’t ready to share.

After we reboarded the train, it continued along the lakeshore, where actual waves lapped. The color was insane, a turquoise too vivid for words. The next stop was in a small mountain town with a sandy beach and strong wind. Native art decorated the buildings. We found ice cream and wandered around. It was hard to imagine that people lived here, so far from any large cities. That was a huge nope from me.

For the return trip, we loaded into a bus. Tanner plopped down next to me like it was natural. The drive was nearly uninhabited, with more lakes and flowers. I’d never considered how much empty space there was in the world, living in a city that sometimes seemed endless.

The bus stopped to let us photograph a moose that was ambling down the road, and the driver gave us facts about the animals. My attention caught on the fact that moose were actually deadlier than bears, because they would charge a person who got too close.

Fantastic. Another animal to worry about.

Tanner leaned sideways so his shoulder bumped mine. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did, and you only get one per day.”

“What if I use tomorrow’s in advance?”

“Was that a question? Because now you’re up to Tuesday’s.” His face was solemn, so I said, “Yeah, go ahead.”

“Why don’t you like new things? For real.”

His voice was an in-between. Serious yet light. Like he wanted to know but wouldn’t be upset if I chose not to answer.

My stomach clenched. Facing the question itself was a scary new thing. But he’d opened up today, and he hadn’t teased me about the other truths I’d revealed.

“You know how I told you about my bio dad? It wasn’t just the camping trip. He and my mom had this whirlwind romance, adventures and traveling, but then after she had me, he didn’t want to settle down. So it was more than a few changed plans. He’d go on trips without us whenever he felt like it, make plans and change his mind. Not show up for big events.”

“What a jerk.”

“Yeah. And I always liked boundaries, even when I was little. Knowing what to expect. He’d try to make things sound like a fun adventure. Some kids might have found him fun. You probably would have. I just found it stressful.”

“It’s not fun if the other person is miserable. It was on him to learn enough about you to know how to make you happy.”

“That was exactly it. I didn’t understand this at the time, but now I see that he didn’t take time to think about me. They weren’t adventures because he thought I’d like them. It was all for him.”

Tanner chewed his lip. “Okay, it makes sense that you like stability. But not eating new foods or running new routes or anything?”

I fiddled with my phone, which was nothing but a camera in the wilds of Canada. “Things go wrong.”

“Things always go wrong. That’s life.”

“Yeah, but when I stick to my routines, I know what to expect. What’s likely to go wrong.”

His forehead wrinkled like he wasn’t buying it. “I need examples here. Like the food poisoning?”

“Yeah. Or, I hate scary movies, and usually I refuse to watch them, but at a sleepover once, everyone else insisted. For months, I couldn’t walk past a sewer without being convinced a clown was going to come out of it.”

He laughed.

“Let me guess, you love scary movies?”

“Nah. I mean, I’ll watch them. The jump scares and creepy stuff don’t bother me. But it feels like cheap storytelling.”

Apparently I needed to get used to him surprising me. “What do you like, then?”

I couldn’t believe that after all these years, I didn’t know.

“Pretty much anything. Comedies, sports movies. And I do like science fiction. Stuff with cool visuals, sets, costumes. No need to look so surprised, S’more. I’m more than a pretty face and muscles.”

Was he reading my mind? “I never said you weren’t.”

“I’m pretty sure you have said that.”

“Okay, maybe I have. But I apologized to you once today, and I’m not sure the universe can handle a second one.”

He grinned. “What else went wrong?”

“Oh. Um.” It took work to get my brain unstuck from the fact that he was a nerd, too. “Allergic reaction to a new shampoo that made me sneeze all day. Or my mom bought a different brand of bread once because the regular one was out, and it tasted like cardboard. One time Caleb’s older brother drove us to the Science Center and took a new route, even though I told him not to, and we were late for a speaker I’d been wanting to hear. And once, Jordan talked me into wearing heels when we went out for dinner, and I got blisters right before a big race.”

He blinked a few times. “Wow. Okay. But couldn’t you get blisters from running shoes? Or be late on your usual route if there was an accident?”

“Yeah, but the known is safer and more manageable.”

“Is it, though?”

“I know, you think I’m boring.”

“I never said that.”

“You say it all the time.”

“Name one time?”

“Um. Moore the Bore. In front of everyone, while I was getting dumped.”

His face darkened. “That wasn’t me.”

“Oh please. I’m supposed to believe the guy who’s been giving me nicknames for years and was standing right there didn’t come up with that one?”

“Yes,” he said with conviction. “Because it was Kody. I told him to shut up. And then I ordered him to throw that football to distract everyone. So they’d watch me instead.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I thought you were being insensitive and rude while I was having a terrible day.”

“I was trying to help. I wanted to throw the football at Caveman, but I figured I might knock him out and I’d get in trouble.”

“So…you decided to help me by bowling for trash with your body?”

“Exactly. Give everyone something else to talk about.”

It was sweet in a weird way. “Sorry to tell you I don’t think it worked.”

He sighed. “Yeah. Moore the Bore caught on, even after I told them to stop.”

“And it really wasn’t you?”

“Nope. And the words you’re looking for are, ‘I’m so sorry I blamed you, Tanner. Please excuse my ignorance and forgive me for falsely accusing you of things you didn’t do.’?”

“You have to admit, you do like to give me nicknames.”

“Cool ones, not rude ones.”

“Then…sorry for assuming.”

“Was that so hard?”

“It truly was.”

His lips quirked. “I’m sorry, too. I knew we didn’t get along, but I had no idea I was making your life so miserable.”

“Really? No idea?”

“Okay, maybe some idea. And maybe sometimes it was fun.”

I poked him and he grabbed my hand.

“Truce?” he asked. “For real, not just for the trip?”

Our gazes held. I nodded.

He slowly released my hand, and my heart stuttered. Tanner was the first one to dig deep enough to learn these things about me, even given Jordan’s amateur psychologist tendencies. Caleb had certainly never asked anything so insightful.

We stopped at the border between Alaska and Canada and took pictures at a sign saying Welcome to Alaska. Tanner put his arm around me as we posed, and, nestled against him, I felt safe and happy. Like I fit.

I was not going to analyze that thought. Nope. Shoot it out an airlock, fire it into the sun.

Once back in Skagway, we wandered through the frontier-style town with its wooden buildings and wide streets.

“Are you imagining it with dirt and horses instead of cars, and a gunfight on the main road?” I asked Tanner.

“Sadly, I don’t think those happened as often as movies want us to believe,” he said. “But yes, I was.”

I was seeing a whole new side of Tanner. Had it been there, buried, for years? Surely I hadn’t missed all this?

We were walking toward the ship when my phone buzzed with a message. The sensation felt foreign. I’d almost gotten used to not having it on the ship.

I pulled it out to check, expecting a comment from Jordan on the fact that I’d posted a picture of Tanner and me crossing international borders.

But it wasn’t from her. It was from Caleb.