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Portland, looked like she was going camping in Antarctica. Ross, on the other hand, had decided this
trip would require only a pair of thin Adidas shorts and his new, bizarre, bright red Vibram
FiveFinger shoes, which made it look like he was wearing a pair of gloves on his feet.
But in a matter of minutes the cold ceased to matter to Ross; he felt warm inside as he looked
over at Kristal, who was, quite frankly, too beautiful to have him worried about his outfit.
Ross instantly had a crush.
He was smitten with Kristal. Her long, straight black hair was perfectly braided in the back,
revealing her splendid hazel eyes and perfectly puckered pink lips. She looked just like Pocahontas.
Once the bags were packed in the car, he hopped inside and it pulled away as the four friends
chatted in unison. They drove along the 101 and the Golden Gate Bridge came into view. Selena
pulled out her camera to snap a picture of the orange towers, which seemed endlessly high. Ross
could see the bright blue sky, as vast and open as the ocean he had seen in Dominica. To the right he
could see Alcatraz again, that looming prison in the distance.
They continued along the curvy roadways through Sausalito and into Mill Valley as they made the
hour-long drive to the entrance of the hiking trail.
The beginning of the trail was a well-worn gravel path that soon turned into a sinuous bridle
walkway. Before long the group found themselves in the thick of nature. Ross and René were perfect
gentlemen, offering to carry the ladies’ backpacks. Each man slipped one on his back, one on his
front. They high-fived with delight.
• • •
On the other side of the world, in Perth, Australia, sixteen-year-old Preston Bridges and his mates
had been planning their own festivities for a while now. Preston had already picked out his outfit for
the Year 12 Ball and had been in constant discussion with the other kids at Churchlands Senior High
School about the after parties they would attend.
Preston was a handsome kid, with thick, fluffy eyebrows and flopped-over blond hair that hung
to one side of his face. He had chosen to spend the hours before the festivities on the beach with his
mates, jostling in the fleecy, warm water and talking about the evening ahead.
“You look like you went for a spray tan,” his father, Rodney, joked with him at around 4:00 p.m.
when he got home. Preston smirked and bounded off down the hall to change into his tuxedo for the
dance.
A little more than an hour later, at around 5:30 p.m., Preston walked out of his bedroom for what
would be the last time in his life.
He looked smart in that black tuxedo, his matching bow tie strung perfectly around his neck.
When his mother, Vicky, arrived to pick him up, she noted how handsome her boy looked. His dad
snapped a few pictures of them together. In one, Preston turned to his mother, pulled her close to him,
and kissed her squarely on the cheek as she beamed. He soon set off for the ball.
• • •
Ross and his trio of friends finally found camp and set up their blue-and-white tents on the flat grass
of the hillside that overlooked an endless green ocean of Northern California Douglas fir trees. It
smelled like pines, and a feeling of calm came over them all—especially Ross. René commented that
it was like paradise as the group sat down on the slope and watched the world do nothing. Ross