LUNES
7:19 AM

Reid Harlow

Me: Hey, I'm going to be at a cabin with the family for the rest of the week. Idk if I'm going to have cell service, but if you can't reach me, just know I'm not trying to ignore you.

I don't even know if she's even fucking awake, first of all. It's bright and early in the morning, the sun barely rising from under the horizon, and we're stuck in a wooden cabin up in the mountains, completely submerged in snow. Everyone is unloading their luggage from the car, dragging it inside the house.

"Harlow," Nini calls, holding out my luggage for me—a black duffel bag she bought for me a couple of weeks ago—and nodding her head towards the wooden cabin. "You should go inside and pick a bedroom. It's first come, first serve."

"I don't fucking care what bedroom I get," I said, coming towards her and slipping the strap around my shoulders. I glance back down at my phone, the message still sending. "Do we get service up here?"

"I don't know," Nini said, with an apologetic smile. "Claudia picked the spot, so I'm not sure. Are you trying to reach someone?"

"Yeah, Dahlia," I huff, watching the blue line drag across the screen, not completely finishing. It's fucking annoying. "I thought I could at least send her a text before I had to give up technology."

"Darling, we're not giving up technology," she offers delicately, drawing my attention away from the device. "We're just on a break. You can still use it—Sebastian and I have no objections about that—but, remember, we're trying to spend some family time together."

My first response was to snap back, argue that I don't want to spend any fucking family time with them. I don't see them as my family. Maybe even slip in that they probably won't even want me when I turn eighteen, and the foster checks dry out.

But, I don't.

I watch Nini return back to the trunk, reaching over to grab another luggage, a bigger suitcase that's probably the size of her. She struggles, her arms trembling as she pulls on the handle, dragging the bag of belongings towards the edge of the trunk. I sigh.

I walk around, my feet dragging against the snow, and I reach out to pull the handle on the suitcase. I slightly shove Nini out of the way, grabbing the bag and dropping it onto the ground, the shoveled pathway a few steps away.

"Where do you want this fucking thing?" I ask, looking down at the tag. It was Nini's.

"Um," she stammers, glancing back and forth from the lodge to me. I cock a brow at her expectantly, waiting for her response. "Um, probably in my room? It's the master bedroom."

I nod, dragging the suitcase out of the snow and towards the pathway, knocking the wheels against the concrete. I stop for a second, adjusting the straps on my shoulders and balancing between two heavy bags. I pull towards the door and kick open the creaked wood, taking in the interior.

The entire cabin is made of wood—no fucking surprise—and on immediate entrance, it leads into the living room where couches and love seats circulate the coffee table, facing the cobblestone fireplace with a large plasma screen hung on the wall.

Glass windows decked behind them, floor-to-ceiling, and a couple of glass doors off in the dining room—which leads to the backyard patio and deck. There's wooden beams holding up the second floor, aligned in square-crossed patterns, and a short chandelier hangs over the dining table. On the other side, a hallway that leads to a kitchen and a bar.

"God, I hope they're fucking labels here," I mumble, heading towards the stairs and dragging the suitcase up the steps. I clearly didn't fucking plan for this many steps, because by the time I reach the top, I was a bit out of breath and my arms were sore.

I look down the line of bedroom doors, some closed and some propped open for entrance. I counted a total of six, perfect enough for everyone to have their own bedroom and their own privacy. Woah, can I fucking live here?

I open each door as I walk pass. The first was Ariah—who waved at me as I close back the door, the second was Nico—unpacking his bag and I notice a collection of Christmas ornaments he carries in a small plastic bag, the third was Claudia—who told me to fucking knock, and the last two were either for me or Presley. I haven't seen him since he went off with Sebastian.

I reach the final door and conclude this to be the master bedroom, since it sits at the end of the hallway. I creak open the door, noticing a large king bedroom and a large lounging area, surrounded completely in windows. I don't pay much attention—not even to the en suite.

Exiting from Nini's room, I headed to the last two doors and picked one, dropping my duffel bag on the bed. The room was cozy enough, with a mattress, a tv, a window to the backyard with snow covering the forest and a large back patio—and a bookshelf. Bonus.

A knock on the door, I settle on the bed just to see Claudia entering into my space. She glances around the room, her expression in a neutral set, before her brown eyes met mine. "You got the smallest room."

I roll my eyes, "I don't fucking care." I spat, settling back and grabbing the remote off the nightstand. "This is the first time I actually got a room to myself, it could've been just a bed, and I would've been perfectly fine."

Claudia doesn't say anything, biting on her bottom lip. A guilty expression crosses her. "Don't take that too fucking seriously," I added, catching her eyes once more. "It's just life in the foster system. Ain't nothing new."

She nods, and looks back around the room. The tv hums with advertisements from the local news stations—which reminds me.

"Is there any service up here?" I ask, lowering the volume on the tv. Claudia cocks a brow at me. "You know, for phones?"

"I know what you mean," she rolls her eyes, causing a small chuckle to escape from me. "But, um, I can't remember. I think they do, but since we're far from any cellulite towers, I think it's certain places around the house."

Disappointed but not surprised. I mean, I should've fucking sent the text early but who would've thought this place would've been completely desolated. Our neighbors are probably fucking bears.

"Why? Trying to contact someone?"

I groan, "why is everyone so fucking nosy?"

Claudia holds both her hands up, surrendering. "I was just asking a question. Jeez, my bad."

I narrow my eyes at her, "who says jeez anymore? This isn't the fucking nineties."

"Actually, it became popularized in two thousands, so get your facts straight," Claudia corrected, dropping her hands to her side. A smirk settles on her features as she leans against the doorframe.

I shake my head, flipping her off. "Fuck off." I said, to which she chuckles. "Do you need something, or are you trying to be annoying?"

"I don't know," she said, crossing her arms, "I'm still deciding."

"Get out of my fucking room then," I command, but the threat was hollow. It was loose and I wasn't intending on fulfilling it.

Claudia rolls her eyes again, and flips me off in return before she exits from the bedroom. She doesn't close the door behind her, which is god-awful annoying, but I hear my phone vibrate in my pocket and I pull it out.

I was expecting the message that said: can't delivered, try again later, but instead, I got:

Dahlia: Sorry, I just woke up.

Dahlia: But anyways, if you get this, have fun! Thank you for telling me or else, idk, my anxiety would've probably skyrocketed. And again, have fun!! Don't give everyone too much of a hard time, they're nice people.

I smile, and texted back.

Me: I know.

━━━━━

JUEVES
6:34 PM

Reid Harlow

It's been four days.

Four days since I've been stuck in the same space with seven other people, and I thought I would've gone fucking crazy. When Claudia suggested a cabin—stuck high in the mountains, surrounded by foot-tall snow, like we aren't going to get snow in the next month or so—I thought I would've been driven into insanity.

I hated these people. I hated everything about them—save for Nico—and I didn't think I want anything to do with them. They were persistent, annoying, and always trying to include me into family events.

Well, fuck, let me say this: it's been fun.

One the first day, we went hiking behind the woods. We passed by an abandoned treehouse that looks semi-functional, and Nico said he wanted to climb up. Due to how rusty the ladders looked, and how unstable getting up seems to be, the entire family decided not to let him take part in that adventure.

On the second day, we spent the whole fucking evening baking—cookies, pies, gingerbread houses—and the entire kitchen and family was dirty and messy by the end of the day. It was snowing heavily outside, and I vividly remember Presley taking a gumdrop from Ariah's house, so in return, I broke off a piece of his gingerbread house. He nearly swore at me.

On the third day, the entire family slept in. The light snowstorm didn't waver throughout the entire night, and continued to drop snowflakes against the solid ground, decorating the woodland trees, the roof and the deck leading to the backyard. I stayed up a bit, texting Dahlia the night before and accidentally fell asleep on the couch—to which Nini woke me up with a cup of hot chocolate.

"Hey," Nini whispered, as the fire cracked in the pit, steaming smoke into the chimney. She offered a spare cup of hot chocolate in her hands, taking a sip out of the other. I remember groggily pushing myself off the couch, my bones vibrating with exhaustion, slipping my phone inside my pocket, and accepting her offer.

It was good fucking chocolate.

She slipped into the spot beside me, and we said absolutely nothing. We took our sips of coco, ignoring the rustling sound of snow dragging off the roof due to the abundance amount toppling over each other, and watched the windows. It was a quiet, peaceful morning, and for once in my life—I felt happy.

A happiness outside of Dahlia.

"¿Qué hacías aquí abajo?" What were you doing down here? Nini asked in Spanish, causing me to reinforce our previous lessons. It took me a couple of seconds to register the words, and I mentally prepared my response in English before slowly reciting the formal dialect.

"Yo me quedé dormido en el teléfono." I fell asleep on the phone.

Nini nods, picking up the response. "¿Con quién hablabas?"

"Huh?" I query, my brows furrowing. "I didn't catch that."

Nini swallows, reciting the question slower. I caught on: who were you talking to?

I grimaced, not wanting to spill that I was staying up past curfew just to talk to Dahlia. She was doing some unfinished assignments over the break and wanted company—and I remembered offering myself up. The call was laggy, and kept fucking breaking up, but we called back each time—until she finished her work and we both fell asleep.

I don't remember who ended first.

"Dahlia." I answered shortly, turning away from my foster mother. I could sense the immediate reaction waning off her features, a slow but morphing grin. "Yo no quiero hablar de ello." I don't want to talk about it.

I wanted to add a fuck in there, but I didn't know where to place it grammatically.

Nini chuckled and said nothing else, just as we returned back to the scenery. The snow slowly cascading from the sky, latching onto any surface, and small wild animals—like a fucking bunny or cub, who knows—chasing each other across the ground, entering into the dense woods.

I found myself at peace. I remembered seeing my life as nothing more than a speck of dust among the world, nonexistent and practically worthless. I remembered believing I owned nothing more than a life of surviving, not living—not for enjoyment.

In one mere second, I saw something more. Something more than keeping yourself at arm's length, something more than keeping yourself safe. I found myself thinking about when's the next family holiday, a possible college, a career. A life.

"¿En qué estás pensando?" What are you thinking?

"Muchas cosas." A lot of things.

Nini hummed, crossing her legs against the wooly seats. "¿Sobre qué?" About what?

I swallowed, drawing the response in my head. I wanted to reply with: new possibilities, a world that doesn't look too gloomy, a life that reaches the far-end of the tunnel.

But, I didn't know the Spanish equivalent to those statements. Instead, I mutter up the courage and hope I got this right, "una futura." A future.

Nini didn't respond immediately, and I remember she shook her head and balanced the cup on her thighs. "Exchanging to -a is feminine. Since you're a man, you would be speaking from a masculine perspective and instead, you would say: un futuro."

I nodded, making a mental note of the feminine and masculine connotations. I also had to remind myself to keep an eye out for the whole yo, tu, nos, vos, ellos situations.

We said nothing for the few passing minutes, staring out into nature, before Nini suggested another Spanish lesson in the bright and early morning. Since no one was around—and apparently Nini brought the fucking books along with her on the off-chance that there would be time—I agreed. I spent a couple of hours brushing up on my Spanish, reading a short story, and writing a page. It was productive, until the family came down and they decided to watch a movie.

And I remembered Nini smiling for the rest of the day.

Now, on the fourth day at the cabin, the family has decided on a barbeque. The weather has settled down, and we went into the backyard. Since Nini and Sebastian had to burn the charcoals and get the grill started, the rest of the family wasted time by building snowmen, creating snow angels, and had a miniature snowball fight between the kids.

Ariah and Nico wanted to do it again, too.

"Harlow," Presley snaps, snatching the grilling tongs from my hands. "Do you even know how to flip a burger?"

I roll my eyes, tearing my gaze from the family telling stories around the fire. "It's not that fucking hard. You just grab it and flip it."

"Exactly," he emphasizes, replacing the tongs for a spatula. Oh, I see where I fucked up. "The problem is you keep grabbing it like it's not going to break apart."

"Fuck off, I still flipped it."

"You almost flipped it to the corner of the grill, I had to drag that shit back before it slips off!" Presley throws up his arms, catching the family's attention.

"Everything okay over there?" Sebastian asks, eyeing us and the grill.

"Yeah," Claudia adds, throwing the blanket over her head and tucking herself in like a little kid. She turns to us, her short bob disheveled underneath the material. "At least tell me the food isn't burnt."

"It's not fucking burnt," I announce bitterly, causing a scowl from Sebastian. I soften my blow. "Presley is just trying to tell me that I can't flip for sh—shoot."

"Yeah, well, you can't," Presley said, as he flips a couple more burgers and steaks and ribs on the side. It's golden, but not completely cooked yet. I still don't understand what the fuck is the big deal.

I let out a large huff, turning to my foster brother. "Fine. Fucking show me how it's done."

"Harlow," Sebastian warns.

"It slipped!" I offer half-heartedly, my eyes set on Presley. He hooks to me, cocking a brow in a challenging gaze, before he hands me the spatula.

"Here," Presley turns around and walks away, allowing me to the space on the side. I walk, stopping before the grill and waiting for the perfect time to flip the patty.

Suddenly, I feel Presley's hand on my elbow, guiding my arm. He stops me from continuing and performing the flip, and it reminded me of one of those scenes in romantic comedies where the guy tries to help the girl with bowling technique from behind.

I turn to the side, catching a whiff of Presley's side profile. "You can't think of a better way to do this?"

"What? Uncomfortable?" Presley challenge, cocking another brow. I roll my eyes, adjusting back in position.

"No, I don't give a fuck."

"Great, now shut the fuck up."

We didn't move for a minute or two, allowing the patty to collect the heat from the charcoal and turn brown. I almost grew fucking bored and wanted to tap out, before Presley jabs my elbow and begins to guide me to make the flip. He does, and I did a perfect one—without it edging off the grill.

I hear the whole family clap behind us.

We turned to them, and the family was smiling and clapping—like some sort of celebration. Because I learnt how to fucking flip the patty. "Oh, shut the f—" I cut myself off, as Presley jabs his elbow into my ribcage. "Oomph."

He disentangles from me, and moves to the side—as I collect myself. When I did, I turned to Presley with a burning glare. "I'm going to get you back for that."

He doesn't look too fazed. "Sure."

I pause, not knowing what exactly is my next move. The grill is still cooking the meat, Presley and I are on meal-prepping duties, and we're supposed to be focused. We can't exactly move away.

But, Sebastian and Nini did offer a tap-out.

"I'm going on a fucking break for a minute," I declare to the family, dropping the spatula back on the table. I brush my hands against my pants.

Presley looks at me, a confused look splattered across his features. "A break? For what—"

He didn't get to finish before I ran up and body-slammed him into the snow with an oomph.