“Huh?” Cooper says.
“Dad had to take gas out of the van because he’d forgotten to store gas for our backup generator. I watched him do it. I know I can do it again.”
Cooper stares at me as if I’ve suddenly grown wings. “That’s a good idea.”
“It won’t take me long to—” I begin.
Gavin interrupts. “Do you know how to drive a dirt bike, Karma?”
“Yes,” I say.
At the same time Cooper announces, “I’m going.”
We stare at each other, both with determined expressions.
“It’s starting to snow, so driving a bike won’t be easy,” Cooper says. “And you’re sick with a fever, and you have to use both arms to steer. It makes more sense for me to take the bike.”
I know he’s right, yet I don’t want to have to depend on him to actually come back. A small part of me remembers how Cooper helped me cross the chasm. How he saved me from the bear and wrapped me up on the mountain. But then I remember seeing him near our back tire when Dad let him off. I grab hold of the fury again.
“I’m going,” I say.
“Do you want to waste time arguing about it, or should we get started?”
I give Cooper my most vicious stare. I am a newly caught accipiter, all wild eyed with sharp talons.
“My dad…” I begin, but then my throat stops me from saying more.
Cooper’s gaze melts a little at the edges, but he says nothing. He turns and rifles through our stuff. Pulling out our black solar shower bag and hose system, he waves the hose at me and raises his eyebrows.
I shake my head. “That’s too short. It won’t reach the gas tank.”
Then I remember what will work. I force myself up, still feeling sick and dizzy. I open our camping gear kit from under the bench seat and find our clear garden hose that we use to give water to the raptors.
“We’ll use this,” I say, holding it up. “And we can use that shower bag as a gas can, since it’s heavy plastic. It’s our portable camping shower. You can carry it to the bike.”
We glance outside at the snow turning to rain, and I pull on my warm winter coat. My thoughts drift to Stark again, still out there somewhere. I face the open doors at the back and give a shrill whistle in case she’s close but can’t find us. Maybe she’s at the top of the mountain, where it’s snowing. I turn away and focus on the task of getting the gas.
I immediately see that this will be a challenge because our van is sideways. The gas tank is up in the air. I can’t climb up to put the hose down into the tank. This little obstacle makes me want to scream.
Cooper gently takes the hose from me and leads me to sit down. “This was a great idea, Karma. I’ve got it.”
He vaults himself up onto the van. I can’t help but be grateful he’s here helping us.
“You have to feed the hose all the way down into the tank, ’til it touches the bottom,” I advise from where I sit, watching.
“It won’t fit.”
“Cut the screw off from the end,” I say. “Slice it at an angle so it’s like a wedge.”
“Are you sure you don’t know how to do this from your secret life of crime?” Cooper flicks his knife out and cuts the hose before stuffing it into the gas tank, hand over hand.
“I’m surprised you don’t know.” Seeing the look on Cooper’s face, I immediately wish I hadn’t said that.
“Now what?” he asks. “There’s no gas coming out.”
“You have to bring the other end of the hose lower than the tank to allow gravity to take over.”
Cooper drapes the hose off the side of the van and leaps down.
“Now you have to siphon it,” I say. “You have to create suction in the hose, like a vacuum, to draw the gas out of the tank.”
Cooper puts his mouth around the hose and sucks. After a moment he gives up. “This is like trying to drink a thick milkshake.”
“The gas has to travel the length of the hose, but once it gets started it’ll come on its own. Keep trying. But be careful once the gas is close so you don’t get it in your mouth.”
Cooper tries again, taking breaks by kinking the hose to keep the suction in while he pants to get his breath. Finally I see the gas creeping along the hose toward us.
“Watch out, it’s coming!” I yell.
Cooper jerks his mouth away from the hose just as gas bubbles out the end. He spits and gags as he stuffs the hose into the shower bag. “Yuck. It didn’t get in my mouth, but the fumes are gross.”
The bag bulges as it fills.
“You did it!” I can’t help but cheer.
Cooper spits again. He hoists the heavy, awkward bag, and I can see him trying to figure out how he’s going to carry it all the way to the berm where he left his bike.
“Carry it in here,” I say, holding up my backpack. Cooper stuffs the gas into the pack and shoulders it.
“It’s a couple hours’ walk,” I say, slipping my coat off. “You’d better wear this.”
He takes my coat. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Karma. Just…trust me.”
We share a look that screams loudly with all the things left unsaid.
My thoughts circle, going back in time. But the more I circle, the more confused I feel. Is it really all Cooper’s fault? Is it mine? Is it anyone’s?
Cooper’s determined expression mirrors mine. One thing I know is that I need him now. And I think he needs us. If he’s my friend, I have to trust him. With my father’s life.
“Here’s your do-over,” I say.
Cooper nods once before stepping away. I watch him climb the slope until he disappears from view.
“He’ll come back, right?” Gavin asks. I brush the hair out of his eyes and feel my heart swell with how smart he is. Even though he’s only nine, he can sense something untrustworthy about Cooper. He can sense it, but I didn’t at first. And I still don’t want to.
“Sure he will,” I say. And then we settle in under a sleeping bag for the wait.
Gavin shows me how he used emergency candles from the camping kit. “Dad suggested it,” he says. He lights the stub of a candle perched on Stark’s hawk box. “Even though it’s a tiny flame, it cuts the frost and warms up the van ’cause it’s a small space.”
I peer out at the rain and the darkening sky. Stark is not coming back tonight. I slump against the side of the seat. But she stayed and hunted with me and kept me alive. That has to mean something. I can’t help but feel she loves me.
“Stark saved me, Dad.” I tuck the blanket under his chin. He’s deathly white, but I try to ignore that and keep fussing with putting extra blankets on him. I want to tell him all about what Stark did. He’s not going to believe it. I’m bursting at the seams to let it all out.
The sun has set when we hear the faint sound of the dirt bike roar by on the road. Gavin and I stop what we’re doing and stare at each other until the bike fades into the distance.
“Well, he got it running,” Gavin says.
I nod. Cooper has a tank full of gas and a pocket full of money. He even has Dad’s wallet. It was still in the pack. All Dad’s credit cards. Cooper is set. What kind of friend will he be? What kind of friends are we now?
“Dad looks scared,” Gavin says.
The candle flickers, creating weird shadows along the side of the van. Gavin and I each hold flashlights, and the pale light makes Dad’s face look ghostly. The shadow of his beard blends with the darkness around him.
I pull Gavin down with me on the blanket behind Dad’s seat. I give him half of my sleeping bag.
“Remember when Dad dressed up for Halloween with that black hat and a big hook on his hand?” I nudge Gavin in the arm teasingly. “And he waited in your room until you came in from chores? I could hear you scream across the whole house.”
Gavin smiles and nods. “Yeah! That was funny.” His eyes are brighter as he relives the memory. “Remember that time we went swimming at midnight?”
I can’t help but
grin at my favorite Dad memory. I was so shocked when he woke me up. Pressing a finger to his lips, he gestured at me to follow him to Gavin’s room, then outside. It was so stinking hot that night, my pajamas stuck to me. We biked down to the pond, laughing at the novelty of being up so late. When we got there, we leaped into the water, making splashes that lit up under the light of the moon. Gavin and I used Dad’s shoulders as a diving board over and over again. We swam in the cool, black water under the moonlight.
“Yeah,” I say. “We should do that again next summer.”
Gavin and I share our favorite memories of Dad to pass the time. It’s a long, long night. No Stark. No Cooper. The temperature drops along with my hopes.
Will Cooper come back? A part of me knows he’s not all bad inside. He was scared and fierce. When Stark nailed me, I didn’t blame her; it’s in her nature. Raptors are predictable as long as you stick to a routine and remember they are wild at heart. I know it’s in Cooper’s nature to fend only for himself, but I desperately hope that he won’t leave us.
And that’s when we hear it. The rumbling sound of vehicles approaching on the road.
Gavin and I stumble out the back doors. We’re blinded by the floodlights aimed down at us from above. People spill down the slope, and voices call out.
Cooper skids toward me, and I’m about to hug him when I stop. I need to confess something.
“I didn’t know if you were going to come back,” I tell him. “I wasn’t sure if I could trust you. I’m sorry, but I’m still mad at you for what you did.”
Cooper pulls me into a hug. “Yeah, well, that makes two of us.” His touch grounds me, and it finally sinks in. We’re rescued! They’re going to take my dad to a hospital! I’m going to see Mom!
It’s as if I’m finally able to share the burden of what’s been resting heavy on my shoulders. My limbs begin to shake.
Through a strange slow-motion haze, I watch EMTs free Dad and put him on a stretcher. I can barely answer all the questions. I just nod and cling to Gavin and Cooper as we stumble up the hill after Dad.
It isn’t until they’ve loaded Dad into an ambulance and we’re about to climb in after him that I look up and search the sky. It’s dark and cold, and there’s no way Stark will fly to me, but I whistle and scream out her name.
“We have to go,” one of the ambulance attendants says to me, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
I know what I have to do. I have to leave Stark behind.
When I finally climb in, the sound of the door slamming shut behind me cuts my soul in half.
We’re sitting in the kitchen in our family meeting place. Mom is by the door, Dad is at the head of the table, and Aunt Amy leans against the counter with a cup of coffee in her hand. Gavin wiggles next to me. I look around at everyone in their usual places and have to squeeze my eyes shut to deal with the emotions. I’m so grateful to be home.
I can’t stop glancing at Dad, as if seeing him healthy and whole is only a mirage. He’s finally home from the hospital after almost a week. With his beard trimmed and his hair in a tidy braid, he looks like himself again, except for the cane leaning on his chair. My brother steals it and brandishes it like a sword.
“Dad needs that, Gavin,” Mom says. “Remember what we told you about his circulation and blood clots?”
“That he needs his cane to help him move around?” Gavin returns the cane.
I ruffle his hair with my newly bandaged arm. I’m taking my meds, but the doctors are worried there might be permanent damage. We’re waiting to see, with strict orders not to overly exert myself or get my arm wet.
But we’re all alive and together. We all made it back. Well, almost all of us made it back. As happy as I am, something inside of me is broken.
“Do you think Stark is still out there?” I ask Dad. “Near where the van went off the road?”
He sighs and rubs a hand across his beard. “I don’t know, Karma,” he says. “It’s not very likely. You know that, right?”
I don’t want to believe him. I abandoned Stark. We have to find her. I don’t care anymore that she’s supposed to go back to Canada. I just want to make sure she’s safe and loved. I’d give anything to know she’s alive.
“It’s worth checking, though, right?” I ask.
“Going back to Free Hold is a tough decision right now, Karma,” Mom explains. “You all need more time to recover.”
Mom’s probably right. But we’ve been recovering for a whole week. Besides, she’s the one who looks the worst. Her skin is pale and her face has been pinched ever since she heard about my time in the crevice with Mr. Bones—who, we found out, was a missing hiker named Bill White. His family is happy to finally put his remains to rest.
“If Stark’s out there, she’ll come if I whistle,” I say, not at all certain. “I know she will. We have to try.”
“Trying may not be a bad idea,” Aunt Amy says.
Mom and Dad look at each other, and something about it starts my heart racing.
“What? What’s going on?” I ask.
“We know you need closure,” Mom says, “but I have to go back to work, and Dad shouldn’t be driving right now.”
“But, please—” I beg.
“So we’ve hired some help,” Dad says. “Someone who can help us with chores around here. And someone who can go with us to Free Hold to look for Stark. Today.”
“What?” I leap up, and my stomach does a flip. “We’re really going? And then…then if we find her, are we going to take Stark back to her owner?” I hate to bring it up, but I have to ask. I glance between Mom and Dad, trying to guess what they’re thinking.
“That’s quite a story of how you and Stark learned to hunt together,” Mom says.
“That’s my apprentice.” Aunt Amy smiles at me.
“She’s practically a member of the family now, isn’t she,” Dad says.
The hope rushes through me like a tsunami. “She saved my life,” I say.
The fridge hums.
Finally I see the crinkles in the corners of Dad’s eyes. “We feel that she’s definitely earned her place here. And so does her owner. He said that if we can find her, after all you’ve been through, then she’s yours.”
“Ah!” I scream, grabbing my head on either side of my face. I’m going to cry.
“But, Karma.” Dad looks me in the eyes until I stop bouncing. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up. I really doubt we’ll find her, but we’ll certainly try.”
I leap up and hug Dad, then go around the table and hug Mom. I grab Aunt Amy. “Thank you, thank you. We need to go right now. As soon as possible. I’m ready to go now.”
“Can I stay here?” Gavin asks. “I need to spend some quality time with Spider-Man.”
I chuckle. I wouldn’t want to go back out there if I were him either.
“When are we leaving?” I ask. “Who is the new help?” My whole body itches to be on the road. I have to find her.
“Cooper should be here soon,” Dad says.
“Cooper?” Everything grinds to a halt, and I stare at Dad. He stares back, looking quite pleased with himself. I’m speechless as I hear a vehicle pull up.
“That must be him,” Dad says, winking at Mom. “Amy’s apprentice Bret picked him up.”
I don’t even have time to sort out how I feel before Cooper walks into our kitchen, behind Mom.
“ ’Sup,” Cooper says.
“ ’Sup yourself,” I say.
Cooper looks different in a clean jacket and new cargo pants. Suddenly I realize that I’ve really only known him for a few days. He eyes me a little shyly, as if he’s nervous too.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt out.
“How’s your arm?” he asks at the same time.
Cooper gives a small grin. I feel us shifting back in sync.
“Karma,” Dad says, “why don’t you guys go pack Aunt Amy’s truck for the trip?”
As I take Cooper through the mews, he tells me e
verything that’s happened to him since we separated at the hospital. He had to confess to stealing the bike. It was hard, but he turned in the money he’d taken too.
When he called his father right after everything happened, his dad didn’t even ask how he was, just wished him luck. It was his uncle Mike who came to claim him. I want to cover his hand with mine when he tells me that part.
“I have to pay restitution for the bike and the phone,” he explains. “Your dad and your aunt worked it out with the police. I can work off my offenses by volunteering here. Cutting up tidbits for birds, or something like that.”
I take out a quail and place it on the cutting board. “You can start learning right now,” I say. “We’ve got to bring Stark’s lure.”
Cooper pulls the knife out from his pocket. The metal clip glints along the black handle. His fingers flick it open, and we peer at each other over the blade that started it all.
Or at least it could have.
Cheeko chooses that moment to cast a long pellet. Cooper’s mouth drops open in disgust, which makes me laugh. He slices the quail in half lengthwise, like a natural.
“Karma,” Aunt Amy yells from the house. “Ready? Your dad’s in the truck.”
I grab what we need, toss it into a satchel, and race Cooper to the truck.
“Stark will come,” he says to me after we climb in. “She’s your bird.”
“She isn’t mine. No one really owns a falcon,” I say. “If they trust us and respect us enough, they allow us to be their partners.”
As we turn around in the driveway, I can see the training area where I thought I had flown Stark for the last time.
“Did I tell you,” I say to Cooper, “that in medieval times, gyrfalcons were only flown by royalty?”
“My lady,” Cooper says, with a low bow from his seat, “Thou hast graced me with your lovely presence and weird, bossy nature.”
I laugh.
“And getting weirder every day,” I say. “I will allow you to scrub the mews later, as my royal page.”
Dad gives me a sideways look.
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