Excerpt: All these Leaves on the Cottonwood Trees

By that time, they were hidden away in some distinctly mundane part of the woods, where the aspens and cottonwoods shot up in the sky and bathed the hard, dry ground in soft shade. The sun still glared down on them through the leaves, flickering on and off and sputtering harsh slices of light into Noel's eyes, but at least the jeep had managed to cool down with the summer wind. The jeep rolled up the rickety rock-paved road slowly as Noel's mother looked around, and Noel began to concentrate deeply on the crunching of the rocks below them. The family made their way up a single, narrow road, weaving up and around the wide spread of identical trees. As they drove, the monotonous scene became more and more surreal, but as Noel thrashed around inside his mind, it became more and more a puzzling wave of reality.

Noel glanced outside the window again and saw the sign.

His heart dropped seven stages. He sighed again and let his head roll back onto the headrest. He was hot. He had a headache.

"This looks like it," said Noel's father.

The sign read Camp Come Home: Teen Therapy Reserve. They continued to heave upwards as Noel's heart continued to heave downwards. They were truly in the middle of nowhere—the trees sprawled onward on the needled slope endlessly, and all around the blue horizon, mountains stood to guard the place. Noel began to wonder whether there would be mountain lions just minutes from the site. He couldn't even see the building yet.

He clenched his fists tighter around the car seat. He would've loved to be mauled by a mountain lion by now.

"I hope you're excited as I am, Noel," his mother said with a cheeky grin.

Noel took a pause. "I'm so completely exhilarated," he responded dryly. "I already told you that."

The jeep came to a wobbly, jerky stop, and his mother disengaged the clutch. The engine stammered to a stop. Noel didn't even consider fumbling with the buckle on the seatbelt.