Chapter Fourteen

Port of Call: Juneau, Alaska

When we sailed into Juneau the next morning, foggy clouds were hugging the tops of mountains on both sides of the bay. Skinny waterfalls threaded the hills, forming ribbons of white from top to bottom. The ocean was a deep green. Like Ketchikan, the town sat at the base of the mountain. Through the clouds, I saw wires leading up the hill, a tram or cable cars.

I leaned over the edge of our balcony to watch the ship crawl toward the dock and stop inches away. Impressive. Thinking about the engineering of this vessel and the chance to see similar feats up close was almost enough to make me reply to Mr. Lin's email.

My mom was taking a whale watching cruise with coworkers today, but my dad had been happy to join a dogsledding trip since he got seasick on smaller boats. He, Tanner, Mr. Woods, and I clutched coats, gloves, and hats as we disembarked into an area where flowers exploded from planters, and everything was bright and clean. Foggy, damp air swathed the forested hills, and puddles covered the ground. The temperature was mild in town, but we'd need the warm clothes soon.

After last night's art auction, I wasn't sure how to act around Tanner. I'd had more fun with him than I'd expected, but it was the first time I'd been kicked out of anything in my life. Guilt had set in when I returned to my room, along with the hope that my parents hadn't found out about it because a coworker had been annoyed that Mom's teenager had interrupted their quest to purchase abstract Martian art.

We boarded a bus to a small airfield, where a helicopter waited to fly us to a nearby glacier for sledding. I might not have picked this excursion, but Tanner had been excited about the idea, and I wanted him to have fun. Plus, it sounded quintessentially Alaskan, and I liked dogs, so there we were.

Tanner took the seat next to me, bouncing with excitement.

It was a short ride to the airfield. The pilot assigned seats in the helicopter based on weight. Tanner flashed me a grin when the pilot told him to sit up front, and I climbed into the back. Headsets let us hear the pilot over the thumping.

I'd never been in a helicopter. It was more disconcerting than an airplane because it was so small, at the mercy of winds or storms, but surely they'd cancel the excursion if conditions were unsafe.

At first, the skies were foggy, and rain drops gathered on the windows. But as we rose above the town, the clouds cleared to allow glimpses of green mountains that soon turned rocky, many topped in snow.

Then the glacier was beneath us, massive, spreading between the peaks, nothing but ice and rocks as far as I could see. It wasn't solid white, but shades of gray and brown and blue, and the surface was rough rather than smooth like an icy pond.

I fought a shudder. It was pretty, yet so huge and remote and frozen. What would it be like to be stranded out there? We were a tiny speck in the endless sky. There was so much land, we could crash and never be found. Or fall into a crevasse inhabited by a carnivorous Sasquatch that might string me up and eat me if I didn't have a lightsaber to fight it off.

The helicopter was a constant vibration beneath me, and the pilot told us about the Mendenhall Glacier, a thirteen-mile river of ice that was a small part of an enormous ice field.

We landed in a lower valley, with soft snow instead of jagged ice. From the sky, I saw long rows of little tents. White buildings blended into the landscape. At this altitude, it was sunny, the sky a pure, bright blue. The reflection off the snow made me glad for sunglasses.

We exited to a blast of cold air. A chill bit my nose, and I tugged on my beanie to cover my ears. Tanner did the same, then reached over and yanked mine over my eyes. When I wrenched it up, he was laughing.

It felt different. Not like taunting laughter, just plain good humor, and I found myself returning his smile. I reached for his hat, but he danced out of my way.

"Too slow, S'more. I thought you were supposed to be the fast one?"

"Oh, so you admit it."

"I'm going to need more proof after that sad display."

The barking and howling of dogs filled the air as we crunched through shallow snow. The sound sent a swell of excitement through me.

Our families had been to Big Bear a few times, where we rented a cabin. Usually, I didn't see the purpose of snow. It was cold and wet and made it hard to run—I never planned to mention the time I'd gone running there, slipped, and fallen on my butt in front of a group of old people who hadn't even glanced at me. Skiing was an activity with injuries waiting to happen, and if you fell, which was guaranteed, it was hard to stand without looking like a baby giraffe on roller skates. Usually I stayed inside with a book. Especially after that sprained ankle incident.

But this place was beautiful, sparkling, brilliant white stretching into the distance, like a field of diamonds or starlight.

We approached the tents and rows of mini-igloo doghouses.

"What do you call a cold bear?" Mr. Woods asked. "A brrrr. I know, I know, my jokes are getting un- bear -able."

"What do polar bears eat on picnics?" my dad added. "Brrr-gers."

"Not you, too," I said.

Mr. Woods laughed. "Good one."

"Maybe we leave them on the glacier?" Tanner suggested.

We met our musher guide, a woman who had competed in the Iditarod, a thousand-mile dogsled race across the state.

"New eight-year plan," Tanner murmured.

"Hard pass for me."

She introduced us to the dogs who would be pulling us and let us pet them. They weren't all the classic gray-and-white Huskies I'd expected, but a mix of brown and tan and white. They wore adorable little booties, which I immediately took a picture of to show Jordan.

I knelt in the snow next to a black-and-white dog and rubbed his ears, and he licked my face. Tanner crouched beside me to pet another.

"Are you guys going to get another dog?" I asked him.

We couldn't have one because Mom was allergic and wasn't willing to risk even a hypoallergenic one, but Tanner's family had had a golden retriever until a few years ago. They'd always put her outside when we visited, and Mom took allergy meds beforehand. I'd enjoyed Saturday morning walks with Caleb and his dog. I would miss those days in the park, throwing a Frisbee and watching his dog chase birds. The breakup had ended more than I'd realized.

Tanner rubbed the belly of a tan dog. "Probably not. I've been asking for one, but with me leaving for college soon, and my sisters gone, my parents say they don't want the work. They don't believe I'd take care of it. Did you know dogs take dedication, responsibility, and maturity?" he asked in a mocking tone.

I might not have trusted Tanner to lead the Astronomy Club or make menu decisions at fancy dinners, but why had I never noticed that his parents didn't trust him, either?

He wasn't 100 percent irresponsible. Someone had obviously decided he could be trusted to mentor an impressionable thirteen-year-old. But a pet was too much? The urge to apologize hit me, though I wasn't sure why.

"Do you want one, once you're on your own?" I asked instead.

"Absolutely. I'll teach it tricks and we'll entertain people at the park. What about you? Don't tell me you're a cat person."

"Nah. I mean, I like cats, but dogs are loyal and dependable and you can take them places."

"And go on long runs with them?"

"Exactly. And my dog would growl at people who encroached on my personal space."

He smirked. "And hunt doves for you?"

"Oh, I'm making any potential dog try out. If it can't catch wild birds, it's not a match."

"Does the same apply to guys?" he asked.

"Why, were you auditioning?"

Why had I said that? I froze, staring at the dog, my cheeks flushed against the cold air.

"I wasn't aware there was an opening." His voice was light, like mine had been, but I was too afraid to look at his face.

The breakup had been barely a week ago. I was doing all this to get Caleb back. The idea of Tanner as a guy in my life shouldn't have been even a glimmer in my mind.

After we played with the dogs, our guide showed us the sled. Ten dogs were harnessed to two small metal and Kevlar contraptions. They were little more than frames sitting on skis with small chairs. It was wild that people used these to travel across long distances, with nothing to protect them from the elements.

She told us that dogs had been used to pull sleds for thousands of years, and mushing was the state sport of Alaska. The animals were bred for it and loved to run, and had thick fur to protect them against the cold. The lead dogs followed vocal instructions, and each dog was intentionally placed in a certain position, with a specific job. They used their different strengths to work together.

I'd never thought of things quite like that before. Jordan and I were different, and we had a great friendship. Yet with Caleb, I'd gravitated toward someone like me. Our guide was saying sometimes opposites work best together.

I glanced over to find Tanner studying me.

Lightning bounced around my insides like blaster fire in a metal room.

What was he thinking? And why was the sun so hot?

My dad, Mr. Woods, and I started in the front chair and perch, while Tanner joined the guide in the back.

The dogs strained at the harness, eager to run, and I didn't blame them. The energy inside me could have used that outlet,too.

The guide yelled a command, and the dogs took off, racing across the snow, pulling us behind. It was a little bumpy over a path flattened in the snow, heading out across the glacier. Rocky, snow-topped cliffs towered above us. A chilly wind off the ice brushed my nose and cheeks, and a swishing sound filled the air.

We covered ground quickly, the camp falling behind with nothing but snow and ice ahead.

A thrill surged through me. This was not something I'd ever considered doing, but it was amazing.

We stopped to switch positions, and when it was my turn to mush after Tanner, he lingered long enough to tuck my long hair into my jacket, his fingers brushing my neck. I shivered and climbed onto the rail, bending my knees to absorb the light bumping as we took off again.

Even though the dogs were trained, I felt at their mercy. I recalled what Tanner had said. I did like to be in control, to know what to expect. Trusting cute dogs wasn't too hard—odds were good that it would go all right. But that's what I did, weighing the likelihood of trouble with the severity of that trouble, multiplied by a factor of unexpected. Yes, the LA freeway was probably more dangerous than wild animals, but it was familiar, known, and therefore a less terrifying risk.

After we'd all taken turns and had returned to camp, our guide pointed us to a pen full of puppies. I promptly sat in the snow surrounded by the little balls of fluff, and Tanner plopped beside me. The puppies swarmed us. One chewed on my glove, another licked my ear. I took off my gloves so I could stroke their silky fur.

Tanner clutched a white one while three more scampered over his lap. His smile could have melted a glacier. His cheeks were red from the cold, and his eyes sparkled beneath his beanie. Something weird twisted in my chest.

I was not mentally prepared for this view. I needed a warning. Red alert. Attractiveness overload imminent. Surely it had nothing to do with Tanner. Any objectively cute guy's hotness was exponentially magnified when he held a puppy. It was basic math. Not a commentary on my feelings for Tanner Woods in any way whatsoever.

I buried my face in a puppy. "Did you have fun today?"

"I'm supposed to be the one asking that," he said.

"Yeah, but you wanted to do this."

"You didn't?"

"Sure, but you were so excited, it wasn't like I was going to pick anything else. Was it everything you'd hoped?"

His gaze softened and held mine. "It was perfect. Thanks. I'm not used to…"

"What?"

He nuzzled the puppy. "People choosing something because it's what I want."

My heart clenched. Solely because of the puppy. Not at the thought of the youngest kid, always at the mercy of his older sisters, parents who didn't trust his judgment. To make him happy, I gathered every puppy within reach and piled them on him until he was buried and laughing hysterically and my face hurt from the cold and smiling.

I may have also sneaked a few photos. Of the puppies. That might have just happened to include Tanner.

We reloaded into the helicopter, and our route took us past the glacier again. We flew low over a jagged area with ponds and streams in the brightest blue I'd ever seen. I knew it was from light absorption, but the shade was so intense, it seemed like something inside the ice had to be making it glow. Then we soared along a giant cliff of ice that fell to the sea. Icebergs floated in the water at the base.

Once again, it was stunning and dramatic, but I was relieved to be on land when the tour was over. Another bus took us to the ship.

"I'm going to check on your mom," my dad said.

"Can we explore the town?" Tanner asked.

I blinked. He was motioning to me. Why was he motioning to me?

My dad looked at me, and I shrugged.

"I suppose that's fine," his dad said. "Cell phones?"

We waved them, kept our windbreakers, and handed over the cold weather gear for our dads to take.

Then Tanner and I were alone, facing the city of Juneau.