A Million Ways Home
Page 16
“I brought you to the back side. It’s closer to where your Grandma’s buried.”
“Where is she?”
“One row to the left of the center, about a third of the way down. I can show you. Or you could take Lizzie.”
“Is it okay if I go alone?” I half expected her to say no — it had been a long time since I’d been allowed to do anything by myself.
But she said, “We’ll wait right here.”
Lizzie wiggled her eyebrows at me. “Don’t take too long. I’m hungry.”
I climbed out of the car and slipped through the open gate, veering left like Marti had said. I glanced at each gravesite until I found the still-fresh mound of dirt and the marker that read BETHANY ANN PARKER. It was a small black stone, set flat on the ground and dwarfed by a big bouquet of white daisies and red poppies. The dirt was damp from the sprinklers. It smelled like Trey’s jacket.
I sunk down on my knees beside the marker and traced Grandma Beth’s name with my fingertip. I didn’t feel like crying at all. I felt almost happy, peaceful, glad to see her in such a beautiful place. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to the burial,” I said. “I hope you’re not mad at me. I love you, Grandma Beth.”
I sat there for ten minutes, letting handfuls of dirt sift through my fingers while the cool breeze played with my hair and the light perfume of roses drifted across from the next row. I thought about all the good times with Grandma Beth — all the cookies we’d baked, the constellations we’d studied, the hugs, and the love. And it was so hard to think about a future without her. But then I looked down at her letter again, and I realized, I didn’t have to think a long way into the future. All I had to do was think about the next day.
“One day at a time,” I whispered. I carefully worked a poppy free of the bouquet and cradled it in my hand as I walked back to the car.
“About time,” Lizzie teased. “We were gonna leave you.”
Marti shook her head and gave me an apologetic look, like she was sorry I had to endure Lizzie. But I just smiled. I liked Lizzie’s off-the-wall comments. They had a way of making things seem not so bad.
“So,” Marti said as we pulled back onto the road, “I think this should be a two-scoop celebration. What flavor is everyone in the mood for?”
“Chocolate and chocolate,” Lizzie piped up, before I even had a chance to think.
I gave her a weird look. “Why would you get both scoops the same?”
Lizzie gave a long-suffering sigh. “Ice cream should only come in two flavors. Chocolate for the smart, cool people, and vanilla for the really boring types who don’t know any better.”
Even Marti cracked up at that one. “Well … I’ve never heard that take on the subject before.”
Lizzie gave me a sad look. “Let me guess, with you back to being a G-rated person, your favorite is probably vanilla.”
“G-rated?” Marti asked.
“Just ignore her,” I said. “She’s on the road to self-destruction.”
Marti looked truly speechless after that one, and both Lizzie and I burst out laughing.
“But I’m right, huh?” Lizzie asked. “You want vanilla.”
“No, you’re not right,” I said. “You’re totally wrong, as usual. I happen to like lots of flavors — strawberry, rocky road, caramel, butter pecan …”
Lizzie groaned. “Well, all I can say is you better have it figured out by the time we get there. I’m not waiting a half hour for you to decide.”
“Maybe,” I said, and gave her a smug look just to bug her.
But the truth was, I wouldn’t need any time to decide. I already knew exactly what I wanted — a big scoop of butter pecan for Grandma Beth, and a scoop of Moose Tracks for me.
Because that was my favorite.
I’VE always loved dogs. And most of the dogs that have graced my life have come from local animal shelters. A huge thank-you to all those shelter employees who bring a little sunshine into the lives of all the deserving pets waiting for homes.
A big thank-you to my editor, Jody Corbett, who understood from the beginning what I was trying to say with this story, and whose skillful direction raised it to new heights. Thanks also to the rest of the hardworking folks at Scholastic, many who toil behind the scenes and never get to see their name on any page.
A special thanks to my supremely supportive agent, Lara Perkins, who amazes me with her wonderful mix of cheerfulness and savvy business sense.
Heartfelt gratitude to my parents, who always told me I would succeed as a writer if I didn’t give up.
And last but not least, thanks to Mary Cronk Farrell, who took the time to drive to Manito Park and confirm the exact words on the entrance sign.
DIANNA DORISI WINGET writes fiction and nonfiction for young readers. Her first novel is A Smidgen of Sky. She lives in the mountains of north Idaho with her husband, their daughter, and two dogs. For more about her, visit www.diannawinget.com.
Copyright © 2014 by Dianna Dorisi Winget
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Dorisi-Winget, Dianna, author.
A million ways home / Dianna Dorisi Winget. — First edition.
pages cm
Summary: When her grandmother and guardian suffers a stroke, twelve-year-old Poppy Parker’s life turns upside down — but when she witnesses a murder and has to go into witness protection with Detective Brannigan’s mother it becomes hard to believe she will ever find a way home, let alone save Gunner, a beautiful German shepherd with an uncertain future.
ISBN 978-0-545-66706-7 — ISBN 978-0-545-66707-4 1. Witnesses — Juvenile fiction. 2. Witnesses — Protection — Juvenile fiction. 3. German shepherd dog — Juvenile fiction. 4. Grandmothers — Juvenile fiction. 5. Friendship — Juvenile fiction. 6. Spokane County (Wash.) — Juvenile fiction. [1. Witnesses — Fiction. 2. Witnesses — Protection — Fiction. 3. German shepherd dog — Fiction. 4. Dogs — Fiction. 5. Grandmothers — Fiction. 6. Friendship — Fiction. 7. Spokane County (Wash.) — Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.D727593Mi 2014
813.6 — dc23
2014005037
First edition, September 2014
Cover art © 2014 by Michael Frost, created from the following sources: Girl © uwe umst_tter/Getty Images; suitcases © pixhook/Getty Images.
Cover design by Sharismar Rodriguez
e-ISBN 978-0-545-66707-4
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.