Roadside Tents on the Ridgeline

Phoebe Harding, the most popular girl in class, walked up to the front of the classroom and looked out at everyone.

"Let's go to Alvor Base Camp. We'll take the Ridgeline Highway. We'll head west the whole way, no turning back. We'll see the fall colors at Ember Crossing, the clouds rolling over Carrow Flats, and the blue water of Lake Amberly.

"The kind of freedom you get on the Ridgeline? You can never feel that in the city. Highland snow peaks are clean and healing. It's the perfect way to close out our youth. And if we don't end it with a photo at the foot of Mount Alvor, what would even be the point of this summer?"

The room erupted immediately. Everyone was sold.

"The Ridgeline's a must-drive! You'd regret it forever if you never went!"

"Blasting music with the windows down the whole way... Just thinking about it gets me pumped!"

"That's how you do a graduation trip. A photo at Alvor? That's bragging rights for life!"

It did not take long for a few people to frown and speak up.

"Alvor's so far, though. Wouldn't the cost be insane?"

"My family's not exactly loaded. If it's too expensive, count me out."

Wyatt Morse turned to me immediately.

"Nina, doesn't your family run a highland travel agency? Get us a group rate. An insider deal for the whole class."

I looked up at the room and said evenly, "A ten-day licensed round trip to Alvor runs 3,000 dollars a person."

The entire class gasped.

"Three thousand dollars? Are you kidding?"

I did not dodge the question. I laid out every part of the package.

"The entire route's by four-wheel-drive SUV on the Ridgeline Highway, no unmarked back roads. You hit every major stop along the way—Ridgeford, Ember Crossing, Lake Amberly, all of it.

"Quality hotel rooms every night with oxygen tanks provided and all meals included. There's a certified highland medic and a security escort with the group the whole time. Every passenger's covered by a 200,000-dollar comprehensive highland accident policy. No hidden fees, no surprise charges.

"That's industry standard. There isn't a single cent of markup. Highland travel is dangerous. Safety comes first, always. You don't cut a single corner on any of it."

Wyatt's expression darkened, his tone edged with irritation. "Come on, we've all been classmates for three years. Five hundred bucks at cost price, that's all. Just hook us up."

I shook my head. My answer did not waver.

"The agency has operating costs. I'm not running a charity. My family's not a nonprofit. We've got no obligation to hand out free discounts."

That lit the room on fire. A crowd swarmed my desk, one accusation piling onto the next.

"God, Nina, could you be any more selfish?"

"You'd really make money off your own classmates? How do you sleep at night?"

"Three years together and you still care more about profit than people? That's cold."

Phoebe seized the moment and stepped forward to steer the crowd. "Don't waste your money, guys. Don't let some greedy business rip you off."

She held up her phone, showing the budget travel itinerary she had already put together. "I've got the whole route mapped out. It's 200 dollars a person. We hitchhike the whole way, so there's zero transport costs. At night, we stay in budget hostels, and if we find herder camps along the way, we crash there.

"Herders are generous. Free grilled lamb, warm drinks by the fire. And if we stick to the local back roads instead of the tourist traps, we save on entry fees too. Low-cost, free-spirited travel. That's how young people are supposed to see the world."

The class went wild. Everyone rallied behind Phoebe.

"Phoebe always knows what's up! She's a genius at saving money!"

"Forget paying for some overpriced tour group. Backpacking's the real experience!"

Then, the barbs swung straight at me.

"Hope your family's little agency goes under!"

"All you care about is money. You've got zero heart."

After tearing into me, they went right back to buzzing about the scenery and the culture they would find on the road. They argued over what music to play and what poses to strike for photos.

They were so young and so foolish. They did not have the faintest idea what that road held.

The environment alone was lethal. The Ridgeline climbed and dropped in altitude without warning. A single day could cycle through all four seasons, and clear skies could give way to blinding snowstorms that sealed off the mountain passes in minutes.

In the Barrens, there was no signal for 100 miles in any direction, no supplies, and no working navigation. One wrong turn and a person was simply gone. Highland pulmonary edema and cerebral edema struck fast. They could kill in as little as an hour.

Then, there were the animals. Wolf packs roamed the wastelands at night. Sharp-nosed and patient, they would quickly circle anyone who strayed from a group. Highland brown bears were fiercely territorial and did not retreat from humans. Vultures wheeled overhead at all hours, watching for anyone on the ground who had stopped moving.

However, worse than the weather, worse than the animals, were the people.

My family ran a travel agency, so I had heard every story. Many young men and women chased the backpacking trend and hitched free rides the whole way, only to never be heard from again.

Once, a female college student got picked up by an unlicensed driver and was never seen again. Another time, a group of male backpackers was robbed at knifepoint, stripped of everything, and dumped in a sub-zero snowfield to freeze to death.

There were countless disappearances in the Barrens, and the vast majority of them were not accidents. Behind almost every one was deliberate, premeditated crime.

In my previous life, I was soft-hearted and naive. I did everything in my power to save my classmates. Even knowing I would lose money, I dropped the tour price to 2,000 dollars a person and covered the difference out of my own pocket.

All I wanted was for these people I had spent three years with to make it through the trip alive.

However, they cursed me for it anyway. Not a single one of them believed the highlands were dangerous.

I contacted every parent and talked them all out of going. The only one I could not stop was Phoebe. She went backpacking into the Barrens alone. Three days later, she lost all contact.

Seven days after that, her body was found in the Barrens. She had been assaulted before she died.

I thought the people I saved would be grateful. Instead, I died at the hands of my own childhood friend. Even after I was gone, those ungrateful classmates still spat on my name.

This time around, after being reborn, I kept my mouth shut and just watched my classmates whip themselves into a frenzy in the same classroom. I did not warn them. I did not say a single word.

Senior year was over. They were all adults now.

They could answer for their own choices.