I didn't catch who was calling. I tapped to call back.
"June, why didn't you follow us up?!"
The voice in the receiver matched the one in front of me. Will Harding was standing there.
His face was dark, and the moment he saw the suitcase beside me, he started yelling.
"What are you pulling now?!"
"Why didn't you come up? Do you have any idea how worried Bertha was when she couldn't reach you? She rolled down the mountain looking for you, and we still haven't found her!"
I shook my head and scrolled through the missed calls one by one.
"She never called me—"
He smacked the phone out of my hand. It dropped into the snow.
His eyes were cold as ice.
"June, this is all because you threw a fit about me bringing Bertha along, isn't it? Now you've gotten her hurt, and you're still playing innocent?"
"I honestly never thought you were the kind of person who could be cruel enough to get her own best friend killed."
Both temples were pounding. I rubbed them,
then bent down and picked up the phone.
"If that's what you think, then fine. That's what it is."
I pulled up my suitcase to leave,
and he grabbed my wrist.
"Someone's missing and you want to walk away? You're coming up to find her with me!"
He was stronger than me,
and I was running a fever, my arms and legs weak.
I didn't even have time to put on more layers before he dragged me up the mountain.
The rescue team had already arrived, but the wind had picked up and visibility dropped fast.
Will pulled me along. The whole way, there was only the sound of our breathing.
He frowned and glanced back.
"How many hand warmers did you stick on? Why is your hand so hot?"
My lips had gone pale.
"None."
He scoffed.
"Still faking."
We walked another hundred yards. The wind and snow grew heavier, until I couldn't see a foot ahead.
Then, out of the wind, came the sound of someone crying.
I didn't even have time to make out where it came from
before my hand was wrenched loose.
"Bertha, it's me!"
The snow was deep, but not firm.
I stumbled backward and rolled a good ten yards,
stopping only when my back slammed into a rock.
Through the blur of snow, I watched Will lift Bertha onto his back.
Their two shapes merged into one.
The wind was loud. Bertha shouted into his ear.
"Where's June? Is she okay?!"
He looked around. I was nowhere in sight.
"Forget her. Right now you're what matters!"
When I woke, I was lying in a little clinic in the mountain town.
Bertha's eyes were red, and she was gripping my hand for dear life.
"You're finally awake. I was worried sick!"
"It's all my fault. There was no signal up there, so I couldn't get through to you, and then I slipped and fell down the mountain. And Will, honestly, what was he thinking, dragging you up there!"
I listened in silence, until Bertha ran out of things to say.
"June, why won't you talk? Is your throat sore?"
"Of course she has nothing to say. Don't make excuses for her. She's the one who started this."
Will walked in, face blank, carrying a bowl of porridge.
"I got your favorite—plain chicken and rice. June, fine, you had a fever on the mountain, but why didn't you tell us sooner?"
"You're an adult. Can't you act like it?"
I looked at the bowl. I didn't have the strength to explain anything.
I stirred the porridge with the spoon and couldn't bring myself to swallow a single bite.
Will gave an impatient click of his tongue,
picked up the bowl, scooped a spoonful, and went to push it into my mouth.
I turned my head away.
"That was never my favorite."
"That's impossible, you clearly always—"
Bertha was getting flustered. She reached over to take it.
"Stop fighting, both of you— ah!"
