The Honest Truth

“‘You’re always ready for a walk, aren’t you, buddy?’ [Beau] panted out a yes. ‘Well,’ I said, grabbing the handles of my duffel bag and standing up. 'You’re in for a doozy.’ I looked out to the horizon, to the white-topped mountains in the distance. ‘The biggest walk of all. That’s the truth.’ I slammed the door behind me and I didn’t look back even once. I didn’t worry about a key. I might not ever be coming back.”

Gemeinhart establishes the narrative exposition through direct foreshadowing. Rather than listing a series of details—Mark plans to run away from home and walk a long distance toward his destination, which is likely in the mountain’s direction—Gemeinhart incorporates the information readers need into the protagonist’s actions: Mark takes his dog for a walk, looks toward the mountains, and leaves behind a house key. Mark’s attitude also seeps through his actions, revealing his anger and determination as he slams the door and bitterly rejects the idea of returning home, though notably, he speaks more kindly to his dog.

“When I turned to go, I felt the bulge in my pocket. I took a shaky breath and pulled out the watch. It was an old-fashioned silver pocket watch with a round glass face. A present from my dead grandpa. I bit my lip, hard. I could feel it ticking in my hand. Tick, tick, tick. Time, running out. Here’s what I don’t get: why anybody would want to carry something around that reminds you that your life is running out.”

The pocket watch carries mixed emotions. Mark must have loved his grandfather if he carries the heirloom in his pocket, though he hates what it literally represents. Gemeinhart also juxtaposes the watch’s age (“old-fashioned”) with his grandfather and Mark himself, reflecting how time continues moving at a steady pace regardless of the implications for the rest of the world.

“I pulled a little notebook and pen from the outside pouch of my backpack. I flipped past my homework and doodles and opened to the first empty page, then thought for a minute. I felt around in my head, trying to find the words for the moment. An idea came, slow and shy. I nodded. I counted a couple of times on my fingers, my mouth moving silently with the words. Then I wrote them down.”

Gemeinhart uses “show don’t tell” storytelling methods to describe Mark’s actions without explicitly stating the act. The author trusts the reader to piece together Mark’s objective, and for clarity’s sake,