“What do you do around here for fun?” Rivi asks.
“Sitting on the porch in Adirondacks during a snowstorm isn’t your idea of fun?” I say.
“I mean, it’s nice,” she says, “but it’s not really exciting.”
“You don’t move here for excitement,” Tina says. “You move here for the quiet.”
“And the coyotes,” Hunter adds.
“And the stars,” Boone says. “I noticed that last night.”
I nod. “Yeah, you haven’t seen a night sky until you live where there are no streetlights. You should have been here during some of the auroras. That was some pretty impressive nature, I have to say.”
Rivi kicks her shoe through an inch of snow on the porch. “Sure, nature is great and all, but what do you do when you don’t want to look at it anymore?”
I take a sip from my coffee. “Well, we go to the library.”
“Boring,” she says.
“We like to go to the swap shop at the dump,” Hunter says. “Get a lot of free dishes and furniture.”
“They’re only open two days a week,” I say. “So you can’t go today.”
Rivi groans and slides lower in her chair. “Lame. So lame.”
“We can do a puzzle or something,” I say.
“Or make some bread,” Hunter offers.
“You’re killing me, Smalls,” Rivi says. “Even if we had anywhere to go, we can’t. Look at all that snow. We’d never make it.”
I set my cup on the small table between Hunter and me. “It’s two inches, Rivi. We aren’t the Donner Party up in here.”
“White death,” she says. “Winter murder.”
“I think it’s kind of nice,” Tina says. She is wearing one of Hunter’s coats and a pair of her gloves, because none of our friends brought or own any clothing that is appropriate for a winter that’s not in San Francisco. “I could get used to this.”
“Sure, if you want to be bored.” Rivi slouches even lower, which I wouldn’t have thought possible.
“You wouldn’t be bored here,” I say. “You’d just have to figure out new ways to keep yourself occupied. Or, you know, learn to drive and get a license.”
“I would never,” Rivi says. “Cars are bad for the planet, you know.”
“Obviously,” I say. “But that never stopped you for asking for rides when you wanted to go somewhere.”
“Don’t bog me down with details, Sebastian.”
“I was going to go into town and have a look around,” Boone says. “You can come with me, Rivi.”
“I’ll come,” says Tina. “I’m not house happy like some of us, but I’d like to get the lay of the land.”
“I’m still on the clock,” Hunter says. She works remotely, which is helpful out here in the woods. “Have to sit this one out.”
“I’ll stay with you,” I say to her. “You guys go on out. Need directions?”
“Nah,” Boone says. “I’ll GPS it.”
“Well, ignore the first turn it tells you to make out of the driveway,” I say. “It says it’s a shorter trip if you go left, but the GPS lies.”
“It’ll take you twice as much time,” Hunter says, “and it’s two miles of dirt and potholes the entire way. No matter what it says, take a right out of here and you’ll be much happier.”
“That’s what the guide said to the Donner Party,” Rivi mumbles.
“We’ll bring snacks,” Tina says. “Just in case.”
“Good idea,” Rivi says. “Boone’s too stringy to provide much nutrition, and I’m not going to eat you, Tina. Girl code.”
“Girl code,” Tina says, nodding.
“Us against the patriarchy,” Hunter says.
“I’m staying out of this,” I say. “I know which side of my bread is buttered here.”
“Mmm…” Rivi hums. “Boone with butter. That might make him better to gnosh.”
“A road trip is starting to sound like a bad idea,” Boone says.
Rivi scoots up in her chair and punches him in the arm. “Too late to back out now, tasty boy. Get your keys and let’s get moving.”
“You started it,” Tina says. “No backing out now.”
“That’s what the girlfriends in the Donner Party said,” Boone points out. “And look what happened to them.”
“All I know is they didn’t get eaten first,” Rivi says. She stands up and heads down the stairs off the porch.
“I’ll meet you in the car, trail mix man.”
“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” Boone asks Tina.
“Don’t you always regret car rides with Rivi?” she says.
“Good luck,” I tell them. “Don’t let Rivi start gnawing on you before you get there. Once she starts, she won’t stop until she hits bone.”
“Just like the Donner Party,” Boone says.
“Yup,” I say. “Just like the Donner Party.”
Onward ho.