by Jodi Kendall
Dr. Stern sat on our vintage sofa in the living room. When she saw me, she set her cup of coffee on the side table. “Hiya, Josie,” she said. “So this must be Hamlet!”
I paused, unsure of what to say. I’d always liked Dr. Stern. She had short, silver-black hair, kind dark eyes, and a peaceful energy that just wasn’t in the Shilling family genes. I smiled back, but it felt impossible to squelch the fear brewing inside me.
“Dr. Stern is just taking a quick look at Hamlet,” Mom explained, as if she could sense my anxiety.
The vet motioned at the piglet. “Why don’t you set her down here?”
I didn’t move. Hamlet wasn’t allowed on the living room carpet. I saw Mom’s gaze shift toward the stairway and then back at me. She gave me a wink and a nod.
I gently placed the piglet on the carpet. Dr. Stern leaned over and stroked Hamlet’s back. The pig seemed to like her immediately because she didn’t wiggle away. I sat down next to Hamlet, and as I watched her be examined, I realized just how much Hamlet had really plumped up over the last few days.
Dr. Stern put a stethoscope against the piglet’s belly. “She’s got a strong heartbeat,” she commented. “Want to hear it?”
“Sure!”
She showed me how to wear the headset and slide the chest piece across Hamlet’s skin until it was in just the right place. The piglet’s heartbeat made a gentle thump thump sound in my ears.
“What’re you checking her for?” I asked Dr. Stern, handing her back the stethoscope.
“Well.” She ruffled through the medical bag. “Hamlet is from a region with a high pseudorabies status, so I thought it best to do a quick blood test.”
I drew in a deep breath. “Does that mean she’s sick?”
She smiled easily. “Don’t worry. Hamlet appears to be in great health. It’s just a precaution. We should contact another veterinarian about vaccinations, deworming treatments, and filing her hooves though. Now.” She pulled measuring tape from her bag and wrapped it around the pig’s belly and neck, writing measurements down in a small notebook.
I figured I should ask the big question that was weighing on my heart. I knew that Hamlet needed a forever home . . . but I was hoping that would be right here, in our house. Somewhere she’d be safe and loved.
“Are you going to take her away from us?”
Dr. Stern exchanged a look with my mother. “Not right now,” she assured me. Hamlet let out a loud oink, like she was happy to hear that she was staying for a while longer, too. I ran my palm along the length of her hairy back, and she oinked again, making Dr. Stern laugh. “She sure seems to like you.”
“Thanks.” I grinned. Reason number three for the Case for Keeping Hamlet! “I like her a lot, too.”
There was a loud thump! on the back door. Amelia and Lou were throwing a tennis ball against the house again. I wrinkled my nose. My sister should be moving her bike and raking leaves off the back patio steps. If they kept up that ruckus, Dad would come downstairs to investigate, and I didn’t want him to get mad about Hamlet being off her leash in the living room.
“Now.” Dr. Stern clapped her hands together. “Why don’t you show me—what do you call it? Hamlet’s Cave?”
Mom beamed at me. “That’s a great idea!”
“Okay.”
Hamlet trotted at my heels as I gave Dr. Stern the tour of her little spot beneath the stairs. I told the veterinarian about how the piglet learned how to use a litter box after just a few days’ time, and what brand of cedar chips I used in her Cave, and how her stomach never seemed full, no matter how much food I fed her.
Dr. Stern laughed. “Pigs do like to eat. But be careful not to overfeed her, because that’s bad for her health.”
I nodded. “Ellen told me that pigs are super smart,” I said. “Is that true?”
“Yes. Some studies found that pigs can learn tricks, like using a video game joystick, standing on their hind legs, and even bowing.”
“Hamlet, bowing?” I laughed, imagining such a sight. “That’d be something!”
“Did you know that pigs can learn something so quickly, that they can master it on the first try?”
I felt nerves jolt in my stomach all over again, thinking about the new gymnastics skills I was trying to learn. It was taking me forever to nail them down. It’d be pretty amazing to master a new routine after attempting it just once.
“Well, Hamlet did pretty good with litter box training, so I believe it.”
Loud snores reached our ears. Dr. Stern glanced over at Sugar, who was lying in front of the heating vent. “How is Hamlet getting along with the dog?”
“Pretty well, actually,” said Mom.
“Mostly they just ignore each other,” I added, but then remembered reason number two for the Case for Keeping Hamlet. “But I think Sugar really, really likes the company.”
“Oh, you do, honey?” Mom glanced at the dog thoughtfully. “That’s nice to hear.”
Dr. Stern nodded. “Pigs are social animals, so it’s good to let her spend time with other animals and people.”
“Hear that, Mom? Hamlet needs more free time in the house.”
“Hmm, that’s certainly something to think about, isn’t it.” Mom didn’t smile back, but her tone was light, so it felt like a promise of some kind.
“Well,” Dr. Stern said, lifting her medical bag over her shoulder. “Hamlet seems to be doing very well, given the circumstances. But keep looking for a permanent home for her, okay, Josie? The city isn’t the best place for a pig.”
“Yep! I’m working on it,” I assured her, walking the veterinarian to the front door. “And thanks for giving Hamlet an exam.”
I was already memorizing new reasons for the Case File:
Reason #4—The Pig Is Very Healthy
Reason #5—She Is Attached to Josie
Reason #6—She Is Very Smart and Can Learn Tricks
I started to turn the doorknob but stopped. There was one more question I wanted to ask Dr. Stern before she left.
I swallowed hard. Be brave, I told myself. Be confident like Tom.
“Dr. Stern?”
She looped a wool scarf around her neck. “Yes, Josie?”
“You know that measuring tape in your bag? Do you—” I cleared my throat. I had to know if it was all in my mind, or if it was real. “Do you think you could measure how tall I am?”
Chapter 5
PEP TALK TIME
Whenever I needed advice, I called Tom.
Of course it took me four times to actually reach my brother in his dorm room, but finally he called me back, right after I played with Hamlet in the backyard and before Dad drove me to gymnastics practice.
“What’s up, JoJo?” Tom said when I picked up the phone. “Happy December!”
“Um. Happy December.”
So far, December wasn’t feeling happy at all. I had thirty-one days left to convince my parents that I should keep Hamlet as a pet, and so far it didn’t seem to be working. Dad never seemed to notice how often I cleaned her Cave, and that I’d bought air fresheners for the downstairs hallway so it would always smell nice and fresh in the house. Hamlet never squealed from being hungry because I was consistent with feeding her, three times a day, and ensured she always had fresh, clean water.
And then there was gymnastics. My stomach had felt sour and twisted all day, just thinking about the skills I was falling short on. But Tom had this way of always staying positive no matter what was going on in his life. I’d seen him grinning ear to ear after playing his best on the football field, and after his worst games too, when none of the plays seemed to go the way he’d hoped.
“I, um, need your help,” I said, twisting the cord of the kitchen phone around my finger.
“About Hamlet?” Tom’s cheerful tone deflated. “Sorry, sis, but I tried everything I could, and football—”
“Not about Hamlet,” I cut in, although I still hadn’t solved the Case for Keeping Hamlet, so that was technically a
problem, too. I glanced around the corner, just to be sure that Sarah was still upstairs studying and that my dad wasn’t listening in on our conversation. I lowered my voice. “It’s about gymnastics.”
“Ahhhh. Sports talk. My specialty!” The mouthpiece of the phone buzzed static, like Tom was pressing the phone more closely to his ear. “Go for it.”
“Well.” I cleared my throat, not quite sure how to express how I was feeling in words. But I was going to give it a shot. If anyone could help me, it’d be Tom. “So, you know how I moved up to Level Five this year? We’ve been learning all these new routines. There’s a big meet in a few weeks, right before Christmas. Maybe Mom told you about it? Anyways. I’m—I’m having trouble with a few things.”
“What’s the trouble?”
I exhaled. Here it goes. “I’m too tall to do the skills.”
There was a long pause. “Josie,” Tom said, his tone serious. “You’re telling me it’s physically impossible for you to do the new routines?”
I could almost see Tom’s eyebrows lifting in disbelief. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out his face in my mind. That’s why phone calls were easier sometimes. I felt myself close down inside at the sight of a single disappointed look. I’d learned that the hard way from my parents, teachers, and coaches over the years. I couldn’t feel that way toward my brother, not now, when I needed his help the most.
“Yes. I mean, no.” I sighed again. “I’m not sure. It’s just . . . things are so much different this season. A lot harder! I’m so much taller than last year. I know that for a fact because Dr. Stern measured me the other day—”
“A vet measured your height?”
“Yeah . . . well, she was here checking Hamlet, and I figured . . . anyways, you’re missing the point. Hey, Tom! Stop laughing! It’s not funny.”
“Okay, okay!”
“I need you serious right now.”
“Totally serious. Keep going.”
I drew in another deep breath. “Like I was saying . . . I’m so much taller than the other girls on my team now. And—and it’s just not fair.”
“Ah. So there we have it.”
“You should see Lucy’s long haul kip on the uneven bars. She’s amazing!” I continued. “Her flyaway dismount gives me goose bumps. And Jenna nails her back walkover on the balance beam every time, and I keep falling off, no matter how hard I concentrate. I just can’t control it right anymore, especially when I work on my form. And don’t get me started on my back handspring step out. It’s like—it’s like my angles are all different. Even things that used to be easy are really hard now.” I squeezed my eyes shut, thinking of my hands catching the bar and my wobbly turns on the balance beam.
“JoJo.” Tom’s voice was calm. “Lemme tell you a story, okay? When the college football scouts came to my high school games senior year, you know what I was thinking about? Playing my best. If I was out there on the field, worrying about who was bigger and better than me, you know where I’d be right now? Not here, playing for a championship team, I guarantee you that. You just can’t worry about the other guys—er, girls. It’s gotta be about you in the game, or what’s the point? It’s not worth your time and energy if your heart’s not in it for the right reasons. There’s always gonna be someone better. Always. That’s part of life, you know? Let the good ones inspire you to be the best you that you can be and work hard to make it happen.”
I bit my lip. He sounded like Coach. I knew that being jealous of the other girls wasn’t helping anything. But still, Tom’s advice didn’t solve my height problem either.
Tom continued, as if he was reading my mind. “I know you think we’re these giant people, JoJo, but we’re really not. You should see some of the guys on my team. This one dude, Luke, is nearly seven feet tall. Seriously! I’m actually one of the shorter guys. But I’m fast, and I use that to my advantage. We’ve all got something to bring to the team. So you know what? Being a tall gymnast has gotta have a perk to it, kinda like being speedy in football. You’re only seeing what the other girls are good at and what you’re having trouble with. . . . But what skills can you do well that maybe the others find challenging?”
I rolled my shoulders back, considering. “I’m not sure.”
“JOSIE, I’LL BE OUT FRONT!”
I glanced over my shoulder, following the sound of Dad’s voice. “Tom, gotta run. Dad’s driving me to practice now—BE RIGHT THERE!”
“Dad’s driving you?”
“I know. Never happens. Something about prepping for a conference call later. He probably wants to use the gymnastics gym Wi-Fi.” I untwisted the phone cord from my finger. “I’ll think about what you said. And thanks.”
“Anytime, sis. Go get ’em.”
We hung up the phone, and I did a quick check on Hamlet, filling up her water bowl and pouring another cup of feed in her bowl. She was curled up, napping in her Cave. I gave her a gentle scratch behind the ears and kiss on the head.
“See you later, Hammie,” I whispered. A horn honked loudly outside. Dad gets impatient when the van is double-parked on the street.
I slung my gymnastics bag over my shoulder, racing outside. Dad gave me a stressed smile from the driver’s seat and turned the ignition. “Do we need to pick up Lucy?” he asked, and I shook my head. “All right, here we go!”
I stared out the window, watching the city streets whizz by us, lost in my thoughts. Maybe I’d been looking at my height the wrong way this entire time. Maybe I was good—or even great—at something without even realizing it, because I was tall. I tapped my foot against the floor mat.
I couldn’t wait to get to gymnastics and find out.
Chapter 6
LET’S GET READY TO TUMBLE
After warm-up and conditioning, my team stood alongside the padded gymnasium floor. The gym smelled of sweat and chalk, and over by the uneven bars, the Level 6 team all hung from the lower bar as they lifted their legs up to the bar and back down, over and over again.
I stretched, waiting.
My lungs inflated.
The younger girls jumped on a tumble track in the background.
I exhaled.
Coach stood beside the iPod docking station, cueing the start to each of our routines. I closed my eyes, trying to block the sound of lockers slamming shut. When I opened them, I caught my reflection in the mirror along the length of the wall and was filled with horror. I was practically a head taller than some of the other girls. I licked the dryness from my lips, reminding myself of Tom’s words earlier on the phone.
We’ve all got something to bring to the team.
“Maxie, you’re up first,” Coach said. “Remember, no loosey goosey arms in your jumps. Your arms need to move gracefully and with purpose! Ta-DA!”
Maxie nodded, adjusting her leotard while running to the center of the floor. As the music blared through the speakers, my pulse began to race as I anticipated my turn.
“Fast! Fast! Fast! Go!” Coach called out. ‘“Push off the hands! Hands! Hands! Hands! Elbows by your ears, Maxie!”
I think I zoned out for most of her routine, just trying to calm my nerves. It felt like the next time I blinked, Coach was staring at me, saying, “Josie, your turn.”
“Are you spotting me?” I asked her. “I’m not sure I’m ready.”
As soon as the words escaped my mouth, I wanted to swallow them back up. Coach didn’t like it when we doubted ourselves. She said confidence was one of the best traits a gymnast can have.
Coach studied me for a moment. “Let’s just do one more pass together in the lane before you go. I’ll be right there.” I breathed a sigh of relief. She motioned for Lucy to cut the music, and I moved to the corner of the floor mat, where the white perimeter lines connect in a right triangle. “Ready,” Coach told me from her position in the middle of the floor.
Step, step, KNEE UP!
I hurdled into the roundoff, keeping my body low and long as I powered into the back handspring. As my feet
reached the floor, I punched down and followed my hands up and back, feeling Coach’s guiding arm grazing across my skin as I tucked my knees to my chest.
“Hug! Hug! RELEASE!”
Coach’s words were loud in my ears, but it was too late. I was going too fast and I released my knees late—I over-rotated the back tuck. If it weren’t for Coach’s spotting, which brought me back to my feet, I probably would’ve landed straight on my back.
“Sorry,” I said, catching my breath. I heard a snicker from the sidelines and looked up to see the Level 10 team stretching in front of the mirror. I wasn’t sure if the girls were giggling at me or not, but in the moment, it sure felt like I was the target.
I felt my cheeks burn red. Coach clapped the older girls away like pesky pigeons. “Ladies, move to the vault until Coach Stephanie arrives,” she said sternly before turning to me. “You can do this, Josie. Don’t let your nerves get ahold of you.”
I swallowed hard. That was easier said than done. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Now back to the line.”
I bounded to the corner of the floor mat, tightened my ponytail, and nodded at Coach.
My timing was better on the second pass, but not great. After my turn was over, Coach sent me to the back of the line to visualize my routines.
By the time I was up again, my nerves were electric. “Full floor routine now, Josie,” Coach told me. “Focus, focus, focus!”
I found my place in the middle of the floor and drew in a deep breath. I couldn’t have her spotting me forever, but still—I felt like I needed her there, just in case.
I pretended that with each breath I drew, the more confidence filled me up. I placed my arms in second position. My heart beat wildly in my chest, like a fish trying to break free from a line. I let out a long, slow breath and waited for the music to begin.
This was it—my time to shine.
In front of Coach.
In front of the whole team.
I glanced across the gymnasium, searching for a familiar face.
It was also my chance to show my dad that I was good at something—but not just that. I wanted him to see that I belonged here, competing with my teammates. I wanted Dad to know that gymnastics meant something to me, but not because I told him. Because he saw it with his very own eyes.