‘Not sure yet, I can’t seem to find the exact info. I know it’s in the forest somewhere south so should be a little warmer, right, Adam?’

He nods. ‘Right. It’s the Japanese trade winds. How are you getting there?’

‘Someone posted a message about carpooling,’ she says, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. ‘Worst case, I’ll try to hitch a ride; supposedly it’s pretty easy here. Someone told me that in winter it’s illegal not to stop for a hitchhiker.’

‘Well, we better be off. Come on, kids, let’s get the show on the road,’ my father says, and I start to gather some more gear.

‘Here, I’ll get that.’ Jaxon takes the heavy duffel bag that’s weighing me down, passing me the light sleeping-bags instead.

‘It’s okay, I can manage.’ I take it back from him. Why is his presence annoying me? I invited him to come along, after all. Now I regret it—sorry, Mum, for being unkind, but I just want to be with my father.

‘Love you.’ Melody squeezes my shoulder as I’m walking out the door.

Be careful, I want to say, but instead I say, ‘See you in a few days.’

Outside, it’s still dark. I zip up all my snow gear, and put on my hat and hood. I’m wearing two layers of thermal underwear, three layers of socks, two fleece jackets and, on top of all that, a waterproof snowsuit. I’ve never worn so many clothes in my life.

I take a selfie, freezing my fingers off in the process, then hop into the front seat next to my father. He scrapes the windscreen free of snow and starts the engine, and Jaxon jumps onto the back seat. If he had a spirit animal today, it would be an overexcited puppy. Mine would be a sloth.

I look back at the house, Melody closing the door. My nose is about to fall off. Camping in this weather? It’s madness.

‘I’m making a playlist for the car.’ Jaxon leans into the front seat. ‘What bands are you into?’

‘Mostly pop—I don’t really know much about bands and stuff …’

‘Pop. Okay. Want to hear what I’m into?’ He pulls out his phone and earbuds from his pocket.

‘Sure,’ I say. I’m looking at my father, who’s engrossed in a big paper map. Hasn’t he heard of apps?

Jaxon deliberates for a moment. ‘Let’s go with this one, first.’

I put in the earbuds.

‘Can you hear?’

I give him a thumbs up, and my father finally pulls out of the driveway as the sounds of electric guitars fill my ears. But they’re not harsh: the notes are dreamlike, slow and weirdly beautiful. Maybe this is what Hawaii feels like; I imagine lying in a hammock with a coconut drink in my hand.