by Jodi Kendall
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “I’m not crying.”
I remembered the package now. It had been the only one remaining under the tree last night, when I’d laid there on the floor with Hamlet. This present was the only one that Dad hadn’t returned.
“Did I buy the wrong ones?”
“No! Not at all. They’re perfect.” I wrapped my arms around Sarah’s neck and gave her a big squeeze. “Thank you. Thank you so much! You have no idea what this means to me. . . .”
My voice cracked. It wasn’t just the grips. It was that Sarah noticed me in the chaos of the house with everything else going on, the house heat going out, the drama with Mrs. Taglioni, all the mischief with Hamlet, Tom’s football stardom, Ellen’s straight As on her finals, and Amelia’s bubbly energy that captured everyone’s attention.
Sarah still saw me.
“Your palms have been gross for weeks. It was about time someone clunked over some coin for new grips, and we all know where your allowance savings went.” Sarah’s tone was light. “Now. Get those things on, and go make your big sister proud.” I nodded, and Sarah disappeared into a sea of gymnasts, weaving back toward the bleachers.
I unbuckled Lucy’s old grips from my wrists and tossed them in the garbage.
Sarah bought me new grips.
I had new grips!
My heart could’ve burst right then and there. Suddenly I couldn’t wait to swing from the bars. I was so excited, I barely felt the cracked blisters sting on my palms anymore. I was going to show everyone—Coach, the team, my family, friends, and myself—how hard I’d worked on bars, and that I deserved to be here.
I worked too hard for this.
“Next up, Josie Shilling for Team Universal, on the uneven bars!” announced a voice.
I clapped my hands together. A cloud of chalk dust floated up into the air as I walked over and saluted the judges.
I was ready.
With laser-beam focus, I pounced from a springboard to the lower bar, keeping my legs tight and piked. I glide kipped to the bar until I was balanced upright on straight arms. The grips were more rigid than Lucy’s worn-in ones, but the tightness around my wrists felt good, and the unforgiving leather made me feel in control.
I swung around the lower bar again until finally I tucked my knees to my chest to squat on the bar, arms out, reaching. My heart skipped a beat as I jumped into the air and caught the high bar.
Everything around me—the gym, faces, lights—blurred as I focused in on the bar, swinging, swinging, swinging, my ponytail flipping ahead of my body. The bar gave a slight bend as I changed directions, and a rush of cool air whipped at my cheeks.
“C’mon Josie!” my teammates yelled.
The final skill was a flyaway dismount.
I dropped down into a dead hang and swung back and forth. When my toes soared forward, I kept my body long and tight and released the bar. I could hear Coach’s voice in my head—look for the mat!—and I tossed my head back, eyes on the ground, as I finished the skill.
Plastic crackled beneath my feet as I landed hard, knees bent, arms straight out. I stuck it! I felt my face light up as I raised my arms high and saluted the judges.
My team jumped up and down, rushing to my side, screaming. Lucy hugged me tight. “That was AMAZING!”
“Let’s see what the judges thought,” I said breathlessly, but I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face.
“Wow, Josie!” Coach exclaimed, clapping me on the back. “That’s the best bars routine I’ve ever seen you do! I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I felt strong today.”
“You looked strong,” Coach said. “But even better, you looked confident.”
I nodded. It wasn’t the new grips from Sarah or that a million people were watching my every move. It was that I believed in myself. Confidence felt awesome.
My score appeared: 9.85.
I felt my shoulders sag a little. Not a perfect ten. But as I unbuckled my grips from my hands, I realized that I still felt great. I’d done my absolute best, and it was one of my top scores on bars, even though I just learned these skills and they were much harder than my old Level 4 bars routine.
I lifted my chin and looked to the stands. Sully pumped his fist and the twins screamed, and my whole family was standing and cheering. Dad clapped slow and dramatic, like each time his palms came together he was trying a little harder to hold back supportive tears. Tom pointed at me and yelled, “Yeahhhh, JoJo!” and all my sisters clutched each other and jumped up and down while my mom snapped pictures and waved.
I just stared, taking it all in.
“Wow,” Lucy whispered next to me. “You’re so lucky to have a big family rooting for you. I mean, look at all of them! They’re so proud of you!”
I grinned. Lucy was right. Us Shillings might drive each other wild and be too loud for our own good, but I loved each and every one of them, no matter what.
“Yeah,” I said, waving back to my family as Mom snapped another picture. Then I hugged my best friend. She was family, too, after all. “Definitely lucky.”
Chapter 19
LAW & ORDER
The doorbell was ringing, over and over again. I fluttered my eyes open. Where was everyone? It was holiday break, so usually someone was around.
Ding dong!
Ugh. I guess I’d get it. I swung my feet onto the bunk bed ladder and climbed down. By the time I rushed to the door, I was out of breath and still half-asleep. “Yes?” I said, swinging the door open wide.
Two police officers stood on our front stoop.
“Um, hello,” I said, the surprise visitors catching me off guard. “How can I help you?”
“Good morning. Are your parents home?” asked the policewoman.
“I don’t—”
“I’m right here, Josie. Sorry to keep you waiting, officers. I was wrapping up a phone call and we weren’t expecting anyone,” Mom said. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“You’re Mrs. Shilling?” the policeman asked, flipping his wallet open and revealing an official badge.
“Yes.”
“I’m Officer Brady,” he said, “and this is Officer Chou.” He pointed at the policewoman. “We’re investigating a report that livestock is living within your home?”
I stole a glance behind me, where Hamlet rested in her Cave. She was within view of the front door, if I opened it wide enough. Oh no—either Ms. Coburn or Mrs. Taglioni had complained about Hamlet. This was bad news. Very bad news.
Please don’t take my pig away please don’t take my pig away please don’t take my pig away please please please please . . .
Mom’s jaw clenched. “Yes, that’s correct. We have a pig named Hamlet.”
“Hamlet?” said Officer Chou.
Mom pulled the door wide open on its hinges and motioned down the hall, where newspapers stuck out from beneath the stairs. My skin tingled. I’d seen Hamlet’s snout just a moment earlier. Where was she now?
“Can I inquire as to why exactly you’re here, Officer Brady, Officer Chou?”
“Are you aware that under City Law 26 Section B it’s illegal to keep livestock within the city limits?” asked Officer Brady.
It felt like the blood drained from my face. Illegal? To keep Hamlet?
Oh no!
“No, I wasn’t,” Mom replied, her eyes widening. “But we aren’t keeping her. We’re only temporarily caring for her until our daughter Josie can find her a permanent home.”
“That’s me,” I explained, placing a palm over my heart. “I’m Josie.”
“I see.” Officer Chou’s eyes wandered down the hallway. “Mind if we come inside for a minute?”
“Not at all. Be my guest.” Mom waved her hand again. We moved to the side as the police officers entered our home and approached Hamlet’s Cave.
“MOM! I can’t find my other boot!” cried Amelia, sliding down the banister and clobbering me at the bottom of the steps
.
“Millie!” I snapped.
A goofy grin plastered her face as we got to our feet. “Sor-ry.”
“Amelia!” Mom scolded. “We have visitors. And where one boot is, the other one can’t be far.”
“Visitors?” Amelia looked around blankly until her eyes rested on the police officers in the hall. “Oh! Sor-RY!”
“It’s okay. We’ve only just arrived,” said Officer Brady with a smile. “Besides, I lose a boot all the time. So where did you say the pig is?”
“In there,” I said, feeling the hair on the back of my neck spring to life. As I approached Hamlet’s Cave, I could see that she was nowhere in sight, but her baby gate was still intact. Uh oh. Did she jump this fence too?!
“Josie, did you let Hamlet upstairs in the girls’ room again?” asked Mom, raising an eyebrow. She leaned over the baby gate, inspecting the floor, where the newspapers had shifted. “Did Hamlet pull up the floor tiles?”
A warm sensation crept up my throat.
“Found it!” Amelia’s voice echoed throughout the downstairs. “It was in the kitchen and not near the other one for the record!”
“Pigs don’t just disappear,” reasoned Officer Brady. “I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.”
The most terrific crash reached our ears. Amelia screamed. The police officers raced into the kitchen, Mom and I following at their heels.
I couldn’t help but burst out laughing at what I saw.
Amelia stood on the kitchen counter, clutching a fly swatter in her hand. The fridge door was swung wide open. Hamlet furiously rooted through the packaged foods and bottled drinks, yanking them out by her teeth. Milk spilt across the kitchen tiles and the smell of cracked raw eggs filled the air.
Mom’s mouth fell slack, unable to find the words to explain what had just happened. I choked back my laugh as the horror set in. What if they took her away right now? Oh no oh no oh no.
Officer Chou wrapped her arms around Hamlet’s neck, tugging her back from the fridge.
“Looks like your livestock has a big appetite,” said Officer Brady, hooking his thumbs on his belt loop. Hamlet met my eyes, and she squirmed her big, round, pink body, as if asking for a hug.
There was absolutely no chance I was going to hug that bad pig right now!
My body felt numb, but I found the strength to nod. “Yeah, she’s . . . uh . . . a big eater.”
“And she pushed me over!” wailed Amelia, shaking the fly swatter like it was a sword.
“Oh, sweetie. Are you okay?” asked Mom, looking up. I’d practically forgotten Amelia was up there! Mom wrapped her arms around Amelia, lifting her back down to the floor. Amelia nodded, but she glared at me like it was my fault.
Right then Hamlet’s teeth sunk into a can of soda, making it fizz all over Officer Chou’s pants. I swear Mom’s face turned white as a ghost as she reached for paper towels and dabbed at the fabric.
“Just a little Diet Coke,” Mom said lightly.
“Why don’t we put the pig back in its pen and talk a little more,” suggested Officer Brady. Once Hamlet was secured in her Cave, the officers toured our home. They didn’t say much besides asking questions like, “Is this your only dog? I see your backyard is fenced, is the gate to the alley locked? Is that a new piece of wood along the far side?” to which Mom answered each and every one.
“Well, Mrs. Shilling,” said Officer Brady as they circled back to the front door. “Everything appears to be shipshape here. It’s not like you’re an animal hoarder or anything, and I understand you’re trying to do right by the pig by finding it a proper home. Looks like your Hamlet is a feisty one, I’ll give you that, but she’s not a direct menace to society. Since it’s Christmas Eve, we’re not going to call animal control, but understand this is a serious warning that the pig must be out by the year’s end, or we’ll have the animal removed from your home and penalize you with a fine. I’m sorry, but pigs just aren’t allowed in the city. You have eight days.”
Officer Chou handed my mom a business card with her contact information.
“Eight days. Understood,” said Mom, turning the card over in her hand. “Thank you for waiting until the holiday season is over. Good-bye.”
After the officers left, Mom turned to face me. She didn’t even need to give me a lecture. The thought of the city animal control snatching up Hamlet and carting her away to a bacon farm filled me with absolute terror.
“Don’t worry, Mom,” I promised her, touching her wrist. “I’m working on it.”
Chapter 20
HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS
That night my parents called a family meeting. My siblings and I fought for a seat on the couch cushions while Mom snuggled up with Sugar on the carpet, gently stroking back her soft, floppy ears.
“Wait!” I bolted upright from between Sarah and Ellen, losing my spot on the cushiest cushion. “Everyone’s here but Hamlet. She deserves to be here, too.”
Dad shook his head. “No pigs in the living room.”
“Broke that rule a long time ago,” deadpanned Sarah.
“Breaking a rule doesn’t make the rule nonexistent,” argued Ellen. “It makes the rule irrelevant.”
“Ughhhh, we know, we know, you got straight As on your report card, genius,” said Sarah, rolling her eyes.
Mom calmly raised up hand. “Girls, please stop arguing.”
“She started it,” said Ellen.
“This is family time,” Mom said, and Ellen’s open mouth snapped shut.
Amelia’s eyes lit up. “So Hamlet’s officially part of the family?”
“No. Hamlet’s an intruder,” said Sarah. “Legally speaking.”
Tom raised his palm in the air, mimicking Mom a moment earlier. “Hamlet’s a guest—technically speaking.”
Mom laughed at my brother and patted Sugar’s back. “Stephen, I vote Hamlet joins us in the living room.”
I met Dad’s eyes and realized that he’d been watching me. He gave me one, decisive nod, as if he understood that my time with the pig was short. I rushed to Hamlet’s Cave. The gate was now twice as high, because we’d stacked books beneath it. I opened it and let her out.
Hamlet oinked happily as she trotted after me down the hall. She circled on top of the big fleece blanket by the fireplace before lying down, and I bent over and curled up next to her.
Dad began his speech. “As you all know, Christmas is going to be a little different this year . . .”
“You mean cheaper,” broke in Sarah.
Ellen shot her a glare. “Way to be compassionate, Sarah.”
Tom crossed his arms over his chest, bumping Amelia’s cheek with his elbow, making her squawk like a rubber chicken. “Oh—sorry!”
Dad cleared his throat. “As I was saying . . . this year is going to be a little different. As you guys know, we had to return the presents this year. But your mom and I came up with a great idea. We’re going to do a Handmade Christmas.”
“Handmade Christmas?” asked Ellen.
“Yes, we’re going to make each other presents this year!” added Mom cheerfully.
“Now, there are a few rules . . .” started Dad.
Sarah sighed. “More rules?”
“Yeah, rules aren’t fun,” Amelia whined.
Dad’s cell phone rang again. “Hello, Mother,” he said. “Merry Christmas to you, too! Are you still at John’s? Yes, yes okay—”
“It’s Grandma?” Amelia squealed. “I wanna talk to her!”
“Stop squirming!” Tom said, sliding down from the couch to the floor. I jumped up to claim his spot on the couch, and Hamlet climbed up on my lap. I grunted. She was heavy!
“Can I read for a few more minutes?” Ellen asked Mom. “I’m at a really good part.”
“What’s it about?” Amelia asked, waiting by Dad’s feet to talk to Grandma next.
“Well.” Ellen smiled. “A girl on an adventure to find a very special gold nugget.”
“Why is it special?”
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br /> “It’s the only thing that can sharpen a magic sword, one that was passed down to her from past generations, and she thinks its power will save her village from the Goblin War.”
“Goblin War—creepy!”
Sarah chucked popcorn at Amelia, who laughed and tried to catch it in her mouth. After we all had a chance to talk with Grandma, Dad resumed the family meeting. “The rules for Handmade Christmas aren’t rules exactly. Consider these challenges, okay, kids? Now, first thing . . . no one can spend any money.”
I almost brought up the fact that Sarah had already broken that rule with buying me grips, but that seemed different because it hadn’t been about Christmas, it had been a gift to help me out. Plus, she’d used her own paycheck.
Dad’s cell phone buzzed from atop the mantel and behind the stocking hooks. He glanced at his flashing phone screen.
“Your mother again?” asked Mom. Dad shook his head, and they exchanged a look. Mom’s lips pursed together like there was something important left unsaid. His phone buzzed again.
“What if Grandma forgot to tell you something?” I asked him.
“It’s not Grandma,” Mom and Dad said in unison, and Dad added, “I’ll call them back later. Now, what was I saying? Ah, yes, rule number two: the present you give must be made from something that you own. Don’t take anyone else’s belongings, okay? And the last rule: remake that thing into something totally different, something that you think the other person would like. Understood?”
I grinned. I’m not super crafty or anything, but this challenge actually sounded like fun.
“Loud and clear,” Sarah said.
“Yep!” Amelia said.
Ellen and I nodded, while Tom gave Dad a thumbs-up. Dad held a worn Ohio State Buckeyes hat and extended it toward Mom first. She pulled out a small piece of paper, unfolded it, read it, and then tucked it into her pocket.