ON THE LAST NIGHT OF the trip, all four of us sat around a high table at a bar. 

      How we'd gotten in, when all of us were minors, was beyond me. It had been Cody's doing.

      "I'm dating the bartender," he explained, nodding over to the man sliding drinks behind a countertop. Ruggedly handsome, with stubble and dark eyebrows, he winked at Cody. He had to be about nineteen. "Or, more accurately, fucking him."

      "Does that mean we can order drinks?" I asked.

      Cody shook his head. "Wouldn't go that far."

      "He's okay with fucking you, but not with giving us alcohol?" Skylar's eyebrows raised higher. "Jesus." 

       "He thinks I'm eighteen."

       "Do you want him to catch a statutory rape charge?"

       "Hey! I'm practically seventeen. My birthday's January 11th, remember?"

       "Practically seventeen isn't the same as seventeen," I argued. 

       "Oh, well." He sighed dramatically. "Let's not talk about the technicalities of how we've arrived at this wonderful restaurant, shall we? As long as we're not bothered by those pesky supervisors, who cares?"

        Skylar leaned forward. "I saw Mrs. O'Hara and Mr. Winter together."

        "So?"

        "So they ducked into a storage closet. And I heard brooms rattling."

        "You did not," I said. "That's . . ." A shudder rippled through me. "I absolutely don't want to think about that."

        "Well, speaking of teachers, I saw Coach Roberts." Cody grinned widely, teeth flashing. "Flirting with a man at a bar."

        "Really?" Skylar and I exchanged a glance. "He stares at the girls' asses during gym class."

        "Yeah, well, don't discount the fact that he could be bisexual."

        Skylar lifted a toast—although, pitifully, it was Sprite. I clinked my glass against hers. 

        "Fuck me," Skylar cheered.

        "Fuck that," I said.

        "Fuck it," Aaron agreed, lifting his glass towards ours.

        And with a final clink, Cody announced, "Fuck this!"

        A few people sitting at nearby tables glanced up. A couple on a date, an older-looking family. Maybe they were giving us dirty looks, but who the fuck cared? These were my friends, and I'd never see the rest of these people again.

        "This ski trip passed by in a blur," I said. "Holy shit."

        And just like that, I was thinking of my favourite night: When Monroe and I had sat in the bathtub, legs tangled up with each other. Only her green eyes had been visible through the metallic pink face mask, and I'd laughed so hard my stomach had hurt. Afterwards, still in our bathing suits, we'd taken a bath together.

       My body flushed hot at the memory. In such close proximity to her, I'd had to force myself to breathe evenly.

       We'd used a lavender bath bomb. The purple had spread, vibrant tendrils, until it engulfed the clear water entirely. I could no longer see beneath the surface, but I'd barely noticed, because Monroe's gaze had been fixed on my mouth.

       As if she was thinking of all the ways she could kiss me.

       Or maybe that was just my overactive imagination. Maybe there had been a smudge of purple there on the corner of my lips. 

       "Talia, I'm pretty sure you've spent this whole trip not skiing," Aaron suddenly said.

       "So?" 

       Skylar leaned against me, threading her arm through mine. "We still have tomorrow morning to fix that."

       "Oh, no," I said. "I do not excel at athleticism. Maybe we should just . . . not."

       "Aaron's great at skiing," Cody said with a wink. "He'll teach you the slopes."

       "We'll start with the Bunny one," Aaron suggested. And I could feel myself relenting—as I had these past few days—because of the ticking deadline.

       Tomorrow was the day we would leave. Tomorrow was December 31st.

       Tomorrow was the day I would break up with my boyfriend.

       But now, as I finally said, "Sure, I'll go, irritating little assholes," I knew it wasn't just the break-up. It was the fact that I had maybe cheated on Aaron.

       Monroe's mouth on my body, trailing over my skin—we might not have kissed, but I didn't think that was friendly behaviour. And the guilt—my God, the guilt—had been clawing at me ever since.

       Aaron cheered, and my stomach squeezed. But Skylar's arm through mine tightened, and when I looked up at her, she only said, "It'll be fun, alright?"

      FROM A DISTANCE, SKYLAR'S HAIR radiated silver, like she'd dyed it with liquid moonlight. Last night, I had helped her re-dye it white, with lavender undertones—the dye Cody had gifted her for Secret Santa.

       Now, as she waved goodbye, and Aaron and I steadily withdrew further, I couldn't help feeling my stomach sink. Alone in a skiing lift, with the wire slowly pulling us up towards the Bunny Slope, I blew out a breath of cold air.

       "Talia, it's not the end of the world," Aaron said. "You'll be fine. There are, like, five-year-olds who ski there."

      "You're not making me feel better."

      "Hey, the whole point of this trip is skiing. It's supposed to be fun, you loser. Stop looking like you're on a march to the guillotine."

      It was morning, and today was the day. Today was the motherfucking day.

      "Shut up," I said, gripping my skis tighter. Once we got up to the top, it would be time.

      "Tal, you'll be fine. You might even like it."

      Once the lift set us down on the Bunny Slope, I followed Aaron towards the tip of the hill. Little kids bounced around, almost knee-deep into the snow.

       "Okay," I said, breathing out. "Okay. Okay. I'll be fine."

       Aaron blinked at me in the bright morning light. In a few hours, it'd be time to leave. Time to go back home. Probably celebrate the New Year at Skylar's house. And break up with my boyfriend.

        How would I do it? Maybe I'd bring him to a private room later tonight. Tell him things just weren't working out between us. I could let him down gently―not just spring it on him. It might be easier, then. But the minutes were slowly counting down, and I needed a distraction.

       Fun, I reassured myself. This is supposed to be fun. 

       Once Aaron had showed me how to brace myself, how to guide my skis through the snow, keeping my knees bent and core tightened, I strapped on the goggles.

       "Ready? I'll go first. Watch me carefully."

       And then he was zipping down the Bunny Slope, a broad-shouldered form. He got smaller and smaller, until he finally stopped.

       I couldn't hear him, but he waved grandly at me from the bottom. He was probably saying, Come on, Talia!

       I hovered on the edge of the hill.

       The world, I thought, is a giant floating rock. We are all little creatures. Basically ants. Nothing matters, and no matter what I do on this earth, people are going to forget me. We're all going to die. 

       We're all going to die. 

       Slowly, I pushed myself off the edge. 

       For the first few seconds, everything was lovely and nice and wonderful. Fun, even. The snow was bright, the sky was blue, and the chill wind brought this vivid, beautiful dizziness to the world around me, like, Holy fucking fuck, I'm alive. 

       But then the hill got steeper. And I got faster. And I completely forgot how to control my skis. 

       I might have been screaming, but I wasn't sure anybody could hear me above the wind.

       I saw Aaron at the bottom, cheering me on, and—why had I done this? Why the fuck had I done this? Why in the motherfucking fucker had I done this for? 

       Too far off the path, I noticed a tree.

       Nothing big. A skinny little tree, really. Barely more than a stick, but still black and imposing. Sharp branches jutting out.

       I was sliding straight towards it.

       I'm going to die. Oh, my God. I'm going to die.

       It reminded me of that first time I'd ridden a motorcycle. The one hidden in my father's garage. When I'd jumped on and hit the gas, expecting it not to work. My heart had lurched, and so had the motorcycle. All I'd thought was, Too fast. Oh, shit, too fast. 

       The tree and I collided.

       I BLINKED SECONDS—OR MAYBE minutes—later, only to see Aaron's face right above mine. Golden skin, hazel-bright eyes. Mouth opening and closing. No sound coming out.

       For a moment, the world was cloudy. I felt as if I'd been underwater. And then the sound came back, and I realized Aaron was saying, "Tal? Tal? Are you okay?"

       "I'm fine," I wanted to say, but it came out as, "I want to break up with you."

      Then I passed out.

      I WOKE UP ON THE BUS ride home. Except it wasn't a bus. 

      "Morning, sunshine," said a familiar voice.

      The windows revealed the blurring scenery. Still snow-drenched, still stark with mountains. We couldn't be far from the ski lodge, but we kept moving. I scrambled to sit up.

       "My duffel bag," I said. "My clothes and—"

       "Skylar picked it up for you," Monroe told me. "There's nothing to worry about."

        "Where are we?"

        "A taxi," she said. "You needed space to lie down."

        "Oh." Sudden images of my body, broken and twisted, flooded my mind. What if they'd amputated my legs while I'd passed out? What if—

        I looked down and breathed a sigh of relief. As far as I could tell, I wasn't missing any body parts.

        "It's a mild sprained ankle, I think," Monroe said, and she sounded like she was teasing me again. "But you scared the students half to death."

        "How'd you—"

        "Olivia and Randall saw Aaron carrying you. You . . . pretty much looked like a dead body, all limp in his arms. They came and found me, since I organized this thing, and the teachers were on the other side of the resort."

       "Oh. Wow." I laughed weakly. "Pretty dramatic, aren't I?" 

       "Yeah, but I'm glad you're okay."

       I straightened suddenly. "But you organized this trip, right? You have to be on the buses with the rest of the kids. You can't be here, with me—"

       "You're my priority, Talia," she said quietly.

       A four hour-long ride with Monroe. In a car. Alone. 

       It flashed back to me, my last words to Aaron: I want to break up with you. And then my heart was in my throat, and I was fumbling to find my phone, and—

       "Relax, Talia," said Monroe, touching my arm. "Whatever it is, it can wait. Rest a little."

       "I broke up with Aaron," I told her.

       Her eyes widened, just for a fraction of a second. And then her face was unreadable, almost distant. What if she didn't care? 

        "Talia . . ."

       "It's—I mean, it's not like I want you to do anything about it. That'd be disrespectful. To him. But if after a little while . . ." Fuck, this was coming out all wrong. "Remember when . . . we were in your room . . . and you told me . . . whether I wanted to pretend to hate you or not, there was still something between us? And as much as you wanted to pretend to be my enemy . . . but then I let you walk away, and . . ."

       Monroe pulled me gently against her, my head resting in her lap. With her fingers in my hair, she murmured, "You're delirious. Rest, and then we'll talk."

       I didn't want to rest. I'd broken up with Aaron. I wanted something—anything—out of her. More than just a widening of her eyes. I wanted a goddamn reaction.

      But her smile fluttered above me, almost tantalizing as I closed my eyes. And I realized that whether I liked it or not, she was right. I was slightly delirious. So when sleep claimed me, I didn't fight it.

      I dreamed of holding her hand. Pressing a soft kiss to those bruised knuckles. 

      "Would you like to dance?" I asked dream-Monroe.

      "Of course I would."

       We were in a garden that was empty save for the two of us. Twinkling fairy lights laced the trees above us. For some reason, I caught sight of a cake on a nearby table: Happy 17th birthday, Talia! But nothing mattered except her, swaying in my arms.

       "I like you," I said.

       "News to me," she replied. Her jade-green eyes were bathed in silver, in starlight.

      This was a perfect moment, I thought. Two girls dancing to Careless Whisper, alone in a fairylit garden.

      "Can we stay like this forever?" I asked.

      "I wish," she whispered. Her lips were so close to mine, and in that moment, I knew we'd kiss. It was inevitable. "But this is just a dream, Talia."

***

Alright, y'all. I have a slight problem. I've been wanting to publish a book for a while now, but in order to actually WRITE that book, I might have to pause this one. You can be completely honest about how you feel, because I might decide to just finish this first.

From the moon and back,
Sarai