Tom and Oliver, identical in every way, sat on opposite sides of the fire, both glaring into the flames. Peculiar GAIA POUNDED ON HER FATHER’S back, trying to wake him from whatever stupor he was in as they sped across the snowy plane. Her fists bounced off him like pebbles, he was so steely and tense. She shouted at him, then reached as far forward as she could and grabbed the handlebars of the snowmobile. It was tough—she could barely reach—but if she shoved herself forward, she could just get a handhold. She tried to squeeze down on the hand brakes. The bike slowed, but wobbled again because her balance was off. Gaia let go and they sped up again. To make matters worse, they had almost caught up to Oliver and Jake. The two of them were looking back curiously. She tried to shout to them to keep away—that she was out of control—but the words were whipped out of her mouth by the wind. She just prayed they’d steer clear—literally. The next step was going to be tricky. She could lose a leg if they landed wrong.
