“He made the same recommendation last time when I failed the courses. I retook both classes. Second time around, I failed one and only barely passed the other.” Brecken shakes his head. “The worst part is I know he’s right. It won’t get easier. I’m not going to be able to do this.”

I can’t imagine my parents caring about me changing a major, but I can’t imagine interrupting a five-generation family legacy, either. It’s hard to piece together the different things I see in Brecken. Every time I think I get him, he slips sideways, changing my perspective.

I still don’t think I trust him. For all I know, this could be an act. He looks genuinely upset, but looks can be deceiving.

“Okay,” Harper says softly. She readjusts her hands on the steering wheel and nods, her voice stronger when she says it again. “Okay.”

“Okay what?” Josh asks.

“I’m sorry this is happening,” she says, and she sounds sincere. “I think we’re all going through something right now. But we can’t do anything about it, not from here. Which is why we can’t stop moving. I’m going to turn around and retrace our drive back to the main road. We’ll head west until we find a gas station or a police officer. Anyone that can help us get home.”

“I hear you, but we’ve got a lot of backtracking to do,” Brecken says.

“We passed a lot of roads that probably cut back up to that main drag,” Josh says.

“Okay, then let’s find one that heads south,” Harper says. “We can take that to the county highway we were on, right?”

“Right,” I say.

So, we head out. Harper does not drive like Brecken. It’s been a while since she’s taken a long stretch, but there’s something equally unnerving about the level of care in her every move. It takes her a long time to turn around, and then she inches along in the tire tracks we made coming down this road. We roll through the valley so slowly, I can feel my shoulders tightening with every half mile we pass.

“We can go a little faster,” Brecken says. Harper ignores him.

Josh is antsy, too, turning this way and that. Looking left and right and even behind us. Finally, he points, inhaling sharply. “There. There’s a road. Heading south on the right.”

“I can’t see it,” Harper says.

“You have time. I could probably get out and jog faster than this,” I say.

Kayla mutters, “I could build a road and get it done before she got there.”

“Do you want to drive?” Harper asks.

I hold up my hands. “Sorry. You’re doing great. Really.”