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Troy was airborne... if only for a moment. His butt hit the ground with a dull thump. Damn Helen and her driving!

"Hey!"  He banged on the small glass window separating him from the  drivers cabin, "Slow down!"

"Sorry, this roads a little bu-u-mpy."

Troy rubbed his sore rear. "Yah no duh." Despite the snide comment the truck did slowdown. 'bout freaking time. Your a 16 year old lead foot sis. He thought to himself. This dirt road "short-cut" was not made for racing. This wood lodge better be worth it. We've headed towards Mount Hood immediately after ourr trip to the Niagara Falls. Not exactly the tourist trap I'm used to… but, a day or two of relaxation might do me some good.

Troy shifted his gaze through the rear window of the truck bed. It was covered in dust and dirt. Circles of grit were scattered here and there, as if it had rained drops of sand against the surface. Beyond the glass sheet a tan road twisted away into a conifer forest, slightly concealed by a rising fog of dust. The tires left their trails among the thousands of others that came before them. Ferns and moss consumed the ground and trees, green was the predominant color of the landscape. The sky was a smooth, contrasting blue, with long, feathery clouds that stretched far above. The environment had a odd serenity to it, a silent promise of grandeur.

* * * * *

Pillars of pine whisked by. An angular monster loomed ahead. Ridged and absolute it held a significant bearing in an otherwise bland forest. A large stream wound away only a stones throw from a pale wooden patio in the rear of the house. The front stood like a giant chapel, with magnificent triangular windows. English Ivy tangled itself into the oak railing of the deck, forming a low barricade of green stars.

The gravel shifted and crunched under the wheels as the truck slowed and pulled into the driveway. A stocky man leaned against the decks rails above a flight of stairs. His wheat blond hair was shifted this way and that in short spiky tussocks. He looked nonchalant with his legs crossed and his back turned. The passenger door slammed, "Sam!" dad called. The stranger attempted to whirl about... then promptly fell over. "Oh shit!" he fumbled, "Robert don't seek up on me like that."

"Sam you clown, come down here and meet my kids." An old friend of dad's? That's new. Troy undid the hatch and slid off the bumper of the truck.
"Sam this is Troy my youngest, and  Helen my oldest." Helen extended her hand.

"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Sam."
Good grief, classic Helen, a constant ray of noxious sunshine, Troy sneered.

"Whoa," shouted Sam "put the daggers away kiddo. Your face will get stuck like that if your not careful."  He and dad shared a chuckle. Great, a comical friend of dad's. I am going to die...

* * * * *

"So," Sam's fork clinked as it milled around some green beans and mashed potatoes still left on his plate, "you're a vegetarian Troy?"

Troy managed an indifferent "more or less."

Father decided to pipe in, albeit in his aloof way. "Did you enjoy the meal Troy?"

"Yeah dad."

"And you Helen?"

"It was wonderful. Thank you Sam." Ugh.

"Well, -hick-," for Sam had opened and emptied a bottle of wine. He had chugged it down so fast he gave himself the hiccups, "the salmon was well -hick- marinated." In your booze you drunk. How did dad get to be friends with such a drinker? You drank that wine faster than most people can drink water.

"I think I'll -hick- retire for the evening." He fumbled his way up a flight of steep carpeted stairs, which proved to be too difficult for him. Quietly dad pushed his chair out and helped his impaired companion up the steps.

Troy spoke up when they were finally out of sight, "what a bum!"

"Troy!"

"Okay Helen what would you call him?"

"He is a kind, and generous gentleman... with a healthy taste for wine." She snickered to herself and Troy couldn't help but join her.

* * * * *

Later that hour Helen and Troy had moved to the living room and were watching a rerun of Planet Earth, some zebra was on its way to becoming lion feces. Footsteps fell on the floor above. Their dad appeared on his way back down the stairs.
"Sorry about that. I'm lucky he got up the stairs before he collapsed."

Troy twisted the empty bottle he had in his hand. "Le Petit Raisin, a delectable french brew from the turn of the millennium that will without a doubt satisfy. Serving size 3 liquid ounces, servings per bottle 20. Please drink responsibly. Dad is he going to die?"

"No, if he does that he can't drink anymore. He wouldn't dare."

* * * * *

The night was hot. The cool stream audible just yards away offered no relief. The air was pungent with the wool blanket that irritated Troy's skin. A million claws of fabric scratched along his legs and cheek. He was sweaty and needed to pee. Forget this. He lifted the blanket, slid his legs around and placed his feet on the cool wooden floor. He step-shuffled towards the bathroom in the dark hall. He turned on the light, lifted the lid, slid down his boxers, relived himself, flushed, put down the lid turned off the light and shuffled out again. He was returning to his room when a light reflecting of the back windows caught his eye. It was coming from and ajar door on the second floor. He paused something pulled him. He traveled noiselessly up the stairs. He hovered by the door and his curiosity only grew. He leaned in made out his dad's voice.

"Robert's log July twenty-first 2015: Family's doing fine. Troy's still a pain in the ass. Helen's trying to help as much as she can. We met up with Sam today, and he got drunk as usual. He'll have a hangover in the morning and he'll bitch about this and that but that's nothing new. Honestly I'm nervous as hell. Tomorrow's the big day. I've told Helen where we're going but I haven't told Troy yet. He won't like it but what else can I do? It's so hard with Nora gone. She was so good with Helen. Huh, she would have taught Troy a thing or two also. Finally they'll be safe. They're going to be going through some serious shit in the next couple days... Robert out." What the hell? What's so special about tomorrow? Not wanting to get caught now Troy made his way back down stairs as silently as possible. He slipped into his bed as quietly as he left it. Despite the heat, the wool blanket, the hot blood coursing through his veins, he was chilled. What was his family hiding from him?

Description
Troy was airborne... if only for a moment. His butt hit the ground with a dull thump. Damn Helen and her driving!

"Hey!"  He banged on the small glass window separating him from the  drivers cabin, "Slow down!"

"Sorry, this roads a little bu-u-mpy."

Troy rubbed his sore rear. "Yah no duh." Despite the snide comment the truck did slowdown. 'bout freaking time. Your a 16 year old lead foot sis. He thought to himself. This dirt road "short-cut" was not made for racing. This wood lodge better be worth it. We've headed towards Mount Hood immediately after ourr trip to the Niagara Falls. Not exactly the tourist trap I'm used to… but, a day or two of relaxation might do me some good.

Troy shifted his gaze through the rear window of the truck bed. It was covered in dust and dirt. Circles of grit were scattered here and there, as if it had rained drops of sand against the surface. Beyond the glass sheet a tan road twisted away into a conifer forest, slightly concealed by a rising fog of dust. The tires left their trails among the thousands of others that came before them. Ferns and moss consumed the ground and trees, green was the predominant color of the landscape. The sky was a smooth, contrasting blue, with long, feathery clouds that stretched far above. The environment had a odd serenity to it, a silent promise of grandeur.

* * * * *

Pillars of pine whisked by. An angular monster loomed ahead. Ridged and absolute it held a significant bearing in an otherwise bland forest. A large stream wound away only a stones throw from a pale wooden patio in the rear of the house. The front stood like a giant chapel, with magnificent triangular windows. English Ivy tangled itself into the oak railing of the deck, forming a low barricade of green stars.

The gravel shifted and crunched under the wheels as the truck slowed and pulled into the driveway. A stocky man leaned against the decks rails above a flight of stairs. His wheat blond hair was shifted this way and that in short spiky tussocks. He looked nonchalant with his legs crossed and his back turned. The passenger door slammed, "Sam!" dad called. The stranger attempted to whirl about... then promptly fell over. "Oh shit!" he fumbled, "Robert don't seek up on me like that."

"Sam you clown, come down here and meet my kids." An old friend of dad's? That's new. Troy undid the hatch and slid off the bumper of the truck.
"Sam this is Troy my youngest, and  Helen my oldest." Helen extended her hand.

"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Sam."
Good grief, classic Helen, a constant ray of noxious sunshine, Troy sneered.

"Whoa," shouted Sam "put the daggers away kiddo. Your face will get stuck like that if your not careful."  He and dad shared a chuckle. Great, a comical friend of dad's. I am going to die...

* * * * *

"So," Sam's fork clinked as it milled around some green beans and mashed potatoes still left on his plate, "you're a vegetarian Troy?"

Troy managed an indifferent "more or less."

Father decided to pipe in, albeit in his aloof way. "Did you enjoy the meal Troy?"

"Yeah dad."

"And you Helen?"

"It was wonderful. Thank you Sam." Ugh.

"Well, -hick-," for Sam had opened and emptied a bottle of wine. He had chugged it down so fast he gave himself the hiccups, "the salmon was well -hick- marinated." In your booze you drunk. How did dad get to be friends with such a drinker? You drank that wine faster than most people can drink water.

"I think I'll -hick- retire for the evening." He fumbled his way up a flight of steep carpeted stairs, which proved to be too difficult for him. Quietly dad pushed his chair out and helped his impaired companion up the steps.

Troy spoke up when they were finally out of sight, "what a bum!"

"Troy!"

"Okay Helen what would you call him?"

"He is a kind, and generous gentleman... with a healthy taste for wine." She snickered to herself and Troy couldn't help but join her.

* * * * *

Later that hour Helen and Troy had moved to the living room and were watching a rerun of Planet Earth, some zebra was on its way to becoming lion feces. Footsteps fell on the floor above. Their dad appeared on his way back down the stairs.
"Sorry about that. I'm lucky he got up the stairs before he collapsed."

Troy twisted the empty bottle he had in his hand. "Le Petit Raisin, a delectable french brew from the turn of the millennium that will without a doubt satisfy. Serving size 3 liquid ounces, servings per bottle 20. Please drink responsibly. Dad is he going to die?"

"No, if he does that he can't drink anymore. He wouldn't dare."

* * * * *

The night was hot. The cool stream audible just yards away offered no relief. The air was pungent with the wool blanket that irritated Troy's skin. A million claws of fabric scratched along his legs and cheek. He was sweaty and needed to pee. Forget this. He lifted the blanket, slid his legs around and placed his feet on the cool wooden floor. He step-shuffled towards the bathroom in the dark hall. He turned on the light, lifted the lid, slid down his boxers, relived himself, flushed, put down the lid turned off the light and shuffled out again. He was returning to his room when a light reflecting of the back windows caught his eye. It was coming from and ajar door on the second floor. He paused something pulled him. He traveled noiselessly up the stairs. He hovered by the door and his curiosity only grew. He leaned in made out his dad's voice.

"Robert's log July twenty-first 2015: Family's doing fine. Troy's still a pain in the ass. Helen's trying to help as much as she can. We met up with Sam today, and he got drunk as usual. He'll have a hangover in the morning and he'll bitch about this and that but that's nothing new. Honestly I'm nervous as hell. Tomorrow's the big day. I've told Helen where we're going but I haven't told Troy yet. He won't like it but what else can I do? It's so hard with Nora gone. She was so good with Helen. Huh, she would have taught Troy a thing or two also. Finally they'll be safe. They're going to be going through some serious shit in the next couple days... Robert out." What the hell? What's so special about tomorrow? Not wanting to get caught now Troy made his way back down stairs as silently as possible. He slipped into his bed as quietly as he left it. Despite the heat, the wool blanket, the hot blood coursing through his veins, he was chilled. What was his family hiding from him?