3

White Isn't Always Good

Sometimes I wonder why I even hang around Eiríkur and Matt. I was having one of those times when we were in Eiríkur's white Jeep on the road to Burlington College in Vermont. Erikur and Matt were possibly two of the most annoying and discordant personalities I have ever come across. A part of me, the lady-like part, said, "Lilli, how can you live with such disgusting people?" But the bigger, tomboy-ish part of me was laughing so hard that the lady-like voice was lost in the wind. After all, sometimes I could be just as bad as they were.

It was two hours into our car ride, the fun of our little adventure had started to wear away, and it had been snowing the whole time. To be frank, I was ready to bang my head against the dash board from annoyance; I have very little patience. "You're going the wrong way."

"No, I'm not."

"You missed the last turn."

"You were asleep at the last turn.'

"I don't sleep as much as you seem to think I do, Eiríkur!"

"And I have a better sense of direction than you, Matt!" The boys could argue over anything, anything at all. Most of the time, the arguments would resolve in a matter of minutes, but on occasion, whatever little thing they were quarreling about could snowball into everything about them that was opposite. When that happened, I preferred to stay out of it, as I just would end up blowing on the fire, so to speak.

I stared out the window at the pure white flakes swirling around in the wind while rubbing my hands together. My mind drifted to things other than my best friends' spat. For instance, my mind drifted off to the thought of what would happen if I didn't get my degree in social sciences. Then I started thinking about my brother Vash. He lived in Burlington, so we'd be staying at his house. I suddenly felt us drifting off the road and we halted to a stop. Eiríkur had pulled over, as he and Matt were in one of their heated arguments.

I tapped my finger on my knee, waiting for Matt and Eiríkur to calm down. I had discovered after years of being around my friends and multiple older brothers that it was best to let the boys argue, because they couldn't see how stupid they were being. Staring out the window, I saw something, something made of metal. It was a snowplow.

We were going to be snowed in! "Eiríkur," I said pulling on his arm, attempting to get his attention so he would drive away (I don't understand his car; it's an automatic). He ignored me as he and Matt kept fighting with their words. "Eiríkur Srtysson!" I yelled into his ear.

"What?" he scoffed, but it was too late. We were engulfed in white. The world was silent and unmoving. The three of us just sat in a white jeep that was surrounded by white snow. We were going to die.

Matt was the first to move. He clambered over the backseat and started rummaging around of suitcases, throwing any warm clothes, blankets, or food he could find back there. He gave us a look and we started to expedite finding the things we needed to survive.

After we had pulled on extra layers, we huddled together in the back seat, breathing heavily with mental anguish. The car engine was off, and the only heat was from our bodies. "We are not going to die." I kept telling myself, but every time I did, I believed it less and less. I squeezed my friends' hands and hoped the red shirt we had used as a flag would be seen soon. Very soon.

What would happen when we died? I had never really thought about death before. Would it hurt? What happened to all our thoughts? All our dreams and hopes? Would they just be gone with the wind, or would they be trapped in our bodies? I pondered my questions in silence for a couple of hours; I have a feeling Eiríkur and Matt were thinking basically the same thing.

"Lilli, you have your cell phone right?" Matt asked me. I nodded, confused with Matt's out-of-the-blue question.

"Call your brother," Matt demanded. "Get him to get us out of here!"

I fumbled with my cell phone keys while dialing my brother's number. He answered and started yelling about where we were and how he was just about ready to send a search party. I calmly, well as calmly as I could, explained to Vash that we were snowed in our car.

Vash said that he was going to go find us straight away. I nodded, though he couldn't see me, and hung up. I looked over at my two friends' faces. Matt looked like if he was stuck in this car for one more hour he would explode. I couldn't really blame him, I felt the same way. Eiríkur, however, was sitting still as a statue, face unmoving. Deadpanning was a skill he'd had since elementary school.

My stomach started to grumble, wanting food. We had food, I had made sure we still did, but I refrained from eating. I reminded myself that Vash was going to be here any minute… right? Right? I bit my lower lip with anxiety.

Then I started to cry. I admit it, I cried. I don't even know why I cried. I just did. To my surprise, Eiríkur dropped his deadpan mask and started crying, too. Then Matt started. We just sat there in silence, crying. I didn't bother wiping away any tears, after all, the only other people with me were crying, too.

I don't exactly how long we were crying, but when I stopped I felt like I'd never cry again because I had just done enough crying to last a life-time. Eiríkur mumbled something about how we should drink a little of our water because crying was dehydrating. We only had one water bottle, but he opened it and we all took a swig.

"If we-when we…" Eiríkur caught himself, "when we get out of here, don't tell anyone about the crying, kay?" Both Matt and I nodded. That'd be taken with us to the grave.

We huddled together in that car; it was all we could do. It was the closest we had been to each other in a long time. I don't know why we didn't talk but we didn't. We just sat there waiting together.

Anxious minutes flew by and out our unopened window. For some reason I stopped thinking about death and started thinking about life. My friends and family's faces flashed before my eyes, so did memories of little things that seemed to be of no importance, such as the time Vash threw a bucket at Matt and Eiríkur, but they stuck in my mind like pins. It seemed like a collage of all things about me, Lilli, was shaping before me, all the little memories, all the little sound clips, all the little things that made me, well, me. I wondered if the same thing was happening with Matt and Eiríkur.

Suddenly, there was a scraping at the car door. I inched away from the noise, just a tiny bit creeped out. I had watched horror movies before, alright? I had a right to be sacred; what if what was scraping at the door was some ax murderer or something? Matt was pale as a ghost at the noise and even Eiríkur, who was the king of hiding his emotions, looked a little unsettled.

The noise continued for about half an hour, and every second the three of us were getting tenser. We were going to die, no doubt about it. That is what our still maturing minds told us anyways.

The scraping stopped and the car shook slightly. Someone was opening the door. Sure, we were happy about getting out of our car prison, but we didn't want to die either! The door was wrenched open, snow falling off the roof.

No scary, psycho murderer with an ax stood before us. It was my over-protective, crazy brother with his rifle. "Seriously, Vash," I thought, "is the rifle really necessary?" Eiríkur, Matt and I let out a collective breath none of us knew we were holding and we scrambled out of that car like we had the Mafia on our tail. Vash didn't question our fast actions; instead, he just led our shivering selves to his car with a muttered "C'mon."

I don't think any of us had ever been so happy to be in Vash's car before. Honestly, we were just happy we were out of that car and alive. I glanced at my brother; he seemed relived we were all safe. My two friends looked almost ecstatic. Not to be cliché or anything, but it was a good end to an awful night.