Spencer ran her tongue over dry and chapped lips. Every muscle in her body was tense. Her hands gripped the armrests on either side of her as the plane jerked into the sky. She appreciated the way the metal bit into her skin, distracting her from the sickening sensation she felt as the plane rose, and then dropped a final fraction to settle into its appropriate altitude. She loosened her death grip on the armrests, palms now slick with sweat, her body relaxing a degree into the uncomfortable blue seats of Delta flight number 302, non-stop service from Los Angeles to Billings, Montana.

A ding was heard, causing Spencer to flinch in her seat.

"The captain has turned off the fasten seat belt sign. It is now safe to move about the cabin."

The flight attendant's voice was bored and disinterested. She sounded as if she had rehearsed those same lines countless times and was sick of repeating them.

Spencer eased slightly. She was not particularly scared of flying, but take-offs and landings unnerved her. Logically, she knew that planes were safe—safer than cars, in fact, whose accidents totaled over 4000 per day. Still, she could not quell the prick of unease or the bile that crept at the back of her throat every time she rode a plane into the air, quivering and creaking in protest as it went. She knew that airplanes were designed to hurtle through empty space, but every time it happened, she found herself baffled and just a little bit terrified. In any event, even if she was not fond of this form of travel, this was almost a welcome diversion from the events that were taking place. Almost.

The two men on either side of her were relaxed in conversation, oblivious to the fact that they had left solid ground and were now hurtling through air—empty air. She had tuned them out long ago. Their conversations were limited two things—jujitsu and past encounters where they had been forced to use jujitsu. Spencer hadn't even known what the hell jujitsu was before these two had stumbled into her life. Now she was wishing she still didn't.

At least she could now connect the names to their faces. Airport security had solved that mystery when they had examined their passports.

Both men were unnervingly tall—well over six feet in height. Michael was more than a little chubby. He had messy brown hair that looked like it hadn't been combed in a week, and he was dressed in an old t-shirt and equally old, faded jeans that looked like they were purchased on sale at Wal-Mart. Ben, in contrast, had auburn hair that was neatly combed and styled with a carefully groomed patch of stubble on his chin. At least Ben's t-shirt and jeans looked like that had come from some place other than the thrift store down the street.

One slender finger tapped against the metal of the armrest. She missed her ipod. She needed the distraction. She wanted to drown out the sounds around her, drown out the feeling of fear that was clambering for her attention. She didn't want to be afraid—she didn't want to feel anything. She missed the initial numbness she had felt upon climbing into the sedan. That was gone now, replaced by a feeling of insecurity and anxiety. She felt the way she might feel while making a life-altering decision, that sort of weightless feeling where the room spins even though you aren't dizzy.

This wasn't a decision though. This wasn't even a choice. This was a situation her parents had finally found the courage to follow through with. She didn't think they would be capable of doing such a thing to her, even though they had threatened. They had only been threats then, words cast in anger from the heat of the moment that dissipated along with the empty arguments.

She should have never doubted her mother's lack of sensitivity. She should have recognized that her mom would not have a problem with throwing her only daughter away. She should have known her father would have given in like he always did, crumpling before Paula's stern and stolid mannerisms. Oh, she was sure Paula had him convinced this was what Spencer needed, this was what would put her back on track, back to groveling and sniveling for forgiveness instead standing up to her parents' oppression. Wilderness camp would solve all of their problems, because of course Spencer was the source of dysfunction and pain within the family, never Paula. What made her angry was that her mother hadn't even had the guts to send her off, to look her in the eyes and tell her that this was what she thought was best. No, the coward had left that duty to her father, who most likely hadn't even come up with the idea before her mother planted it in his head and nurtured it to life. She remembered her mother saying something about a business trip a few days before, some medical conference in Arizona. Paula had been going to Arizona a lot lately, almost a cause for suspicion. Too bad her father was too gullible and trusting to suspect anything. She would have pitied him if she didn't hate him at the present moment.

Spencer's thoughts turned to her brothers. She doubted Clay and Glen were even aware of the situation. They were probably too caught up in their own methods of escaping the family to notice. She didn't blame them. She would miss Clay, though. She would have liked to think that he would miss her as well, but she couldn't say for sure. Glen would probably celebrate at the opening up of her room and her absence on the couch. He was always such an ass that way, not that she could condemn him for that aspect of his personality—it was simply a part of his "charm."

The plane bucked. Spencer's body and mind went cold. Fingers whose once neatly manicured nails were now gnawed off resumed their grip on the armrest. Ben and Michael continued talking, unaware of the plane's movement. It irked her for some reason that they should be so oblivious. Were they not her escorts? Weren't they supposed to be concerned about her welfare and arrival to this… this New Hope Wilderness Camp? Instead, they chattered on busily, completely ignoring her as she panted lightly in her seat. She thought of trying to get their attention, of prying once more for information on where she was going and what was happening, but from the start, her attempts had failed. She doubted communication with them now would get her anywhere. She may as well have been invisible. Maybe if she knew a thing or two about jujitsu, she could have at the very least received an acknowledgement of her existence, but as it was, the two men refused to do anything but talk through her as if she wasn't there.

The plane stopped its jerking. The pilot's voice came over the loudspeaker, apologizing for the previous turbulence. She took a deep, calming breath, trying to forget her surroundings and enter a world of silence. She wasn't successful.

For three hours and forty-five minutes, Spencer was forced to endure the torture of the plane with no one to talk to and no real idea of what was about to happen to her. It was unsettling, to say the least, even though she eventually managed to drown out her surroundings and slip into a world somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

When she returned to full awareness, she was greeted with the fake smile of the flight attendant. Apparently her seat wasn't forward enough. Spencer sat up, stretching out her neck as she adjusted to the forwardness of the seat. Not a good feeling, especially for someone prone to air sickness. At least Ben and Michael seemed to have run out of things to say for the time being as the plane dipped down toward the earth. Their silence was appreciated.

"Flight attendants, prepare for landing."

Spencer had resumed her original position when the plane had taken off, every muscle braced against the plane's movement. She hated this feeling. It was like the regret you feel when you're stuck on a roller coaster in the front seat, staring down at the biggest, most terrifying drop of your life and there's absolutely nothing you could do about it. She took deep breaths in an attempt to keep her stomach steady as the plane lowered. Her eyes closed. Eternity seemed to pass before the wheels finally reached the tarmac. Safety—finally. She breathed out a sigh of relief as the plane's brakes were engaged and they were safely on the ground.

"Ladies and gentleman, welcome to big sky country. We hope you enjoy your stay in Billings, Montana. If your home is here, then we welcome you home."

She tuned out the flight attendant who was speaking, welcoming everyone to Montana and thanking them for using Delta. Spencer could have cared less. She was too fixated on the fact that she was in Billings, Montana to care about what fake pleasantries the flight attendant was uttering. Billings, Montana. It ran through her mind over and over again as if repetition might help it sink in.

It didn't.

The trio rose from their seats as the seat belt sign was turned off, Spencer not really left with a choice as Michael ushered her up. She took her first step in Billings, Montana as they left the plane.

Ben and Michael now moved with purpose. Spencer struggled to keep up as they maneuvered about the airport, skipping baggage claim to escape the terminal. As soon as they left the terminal, they were flagged down by a middle-aged woman dressed in a simple navy blue print dress. Glasses with slender frames were perched on the bridge of her nose. Ben and Michael halted their forward momentum, waiting as the woman approached.

"Spencer Carlin, I presume?"

Spencer could only nod her head. She had no idea how the woman had picked her out of the crowd. Not that it was packed, exactly, but how had she known without seeing her before?

"Yes, well, I'm Mrs. Linton. Spencer, you'll be coming with me now. Um, Mr…"

"Please. I'm Ben and this here is Michael," Ben introduced them. He extended his hand. She stared at it for a second too long as if she couldn't quite figure out what it was before taking it gingerly. Michael also put out his hand, although he did so reluctantly.

"Well then, Ben and Michael, I don't think Spencer will be needing your services any longer, she's with me now. All right? Thank you, boys."

Spencer didn't know whether to be relieved or worried. This woman seemed harmless, but looks can be deceiving. As if to enunciate this thought, Mrs. Linton turned to her with an almost wolfish grin.

"Guess this is the end of the road then. Bye, Spencer. Good luck, girl. You'll be needing it." Ben's voice was too casual for his words.

"Bye, Spencer." Michael's smile was weak as he turned away from her. She couldn't help but think his final words to her were as forgettable as he was, himself. She wondered briefly if she would even remember him other than a blurry face years down the road. If she even made it years down the road, that is.

The two left with half-hearted waves and Spencer turned her full attention to Mrs. Linton.

"Are you ready dear?"

"Do I have a choice?" Those were the first words that could have had the slightest inclination toward a rebellious attitude. Probably not the best way to hit it off with this woman, but Spencer couldn't find that she cared.

The woman's smile lost any charm it might have had before that rhetorical question—it was now almost superior and discerning.

"Come, dear."

Mrs. Linton turned on her heel, glancing behind her to make sure Spencer wasn't about to make a break for it. She considered it, but was to smart to try anything. She knew that the ramifications of that move would probably be even worse than what was about to happen to her already. So, like a good follower, she fell in step to the woman's short and awkward stride, taking one slow step to Mrs. Linton's two.

"Where are we going? When is someone going to tell me what's going on?"

Mrs. Linton's expression remained the same. "I guess you'll just have to find out, sweetie."

The gentle tone in Mrs. Linton's voice fell short of its goal. Spencer felt invisible hackles rise.

Regardless, she followed the woman's direction, stepping outside where an old, beat-up van with peeling red paint awaited her. Transportation of stars, to be sure. She wondered how many other terrified or perhaps not so terrified teenagers had entered its depths as she climbed inside, settling into ripped leather seats. She was considering other kids who had sat where she was sitting, trying to imagine what emotions had raged through them while they had been in her situation. Mrs. Linton climbed into the driver seat as Spencer remained pensive, putting the van into gear. Wordlessly, they embarked upon Spencer's virgin voyage through big sky country. Some undisclosed destination awaited them, the mystery location where Spencer's life was sure to change. She could only imagine what awaited her as they slipped through the pathetic excuse of a city and into the vast expanses of open country.