The Unlikely Story of a Pig in the City

by Jodi Kendall

  The New Year’s Eve ball seemed extra shiny tonight. The energy in New York City was so electric, it radiated from the flashing television screen into our cozy Midwest townhouse living room.

  The countdown to midnight began.

  10

  9

  We sat upright, staring at the TV screen in excited silence.

  8

  7

  The television camera pulled back from the crowd of faces, lifting high into the night sky. There were like a trillion people squished together, all screaming and clapping and jumping up and down, and even though it was so late at night, the city was alive with colorful lights.

  6

  5

  4

  3

  We all jumped to our feet. Almost time!

  2

  1

  The sparkly ball dropped, its bulbs glowing in bright white, dazzling the crowd. A rock song blasted through the speakers. Everyone cheered. Confetti fluttered around Times Square, and Amelia tossed construction paper snowflakes over our heads, calling out “Happy New Year! Happy New Year! Happy New Year!”

  It was Deadline Day.

  I scratched Hamlet’s belly and she snorted loud, happy snorts. For the first time in weeks, my insides weren’t pretzled up in knots, and I wasn’t afraid to go to bed, fearing what New Year’s Day would bring.

  Because now I was ready.

  Hamlet oinked in my ear, and I knew she was ready, too.

  Chapter 32

  NEW YEAR’S DAY

  Before we left the city on New Year’s Day, I paraded Hamlet down the block on a leash for the last time. Everyone had a chance to say good-bye. Lucy cried, Fernanda gave Hamlet a peeled banana, Carlos sketched her picture, and Sully snapped photos of her sitting on the Three Stoops.

  “I’m going to miss you, Hammie,” wailed Lucy.

  “We can visit her as much as we like,” I reminded her. “Plus you’ll be busy with gymnastics.”

  Lucy gave me a look. “You mean, we’ll be busy with gymnastics.”

  “Um.” I swallowed hard. “I’m not sure I’m going to be on the team again.”

  “Wait. What?”

  I took a deep breath. Now was the time to tell Lucy about something Dr. Stern mentioned to me that day we were cleaning the clinic. I wasn’t quite sure how to talk about it, because I hadn’t decided what I was going to do yet.

  “Dr. Stern offered me a part-time job helping out at her veterinary clinic after school,” I explained. “It’s a lot of cleaning cages in the beginning, but maybe I’ll learn about how to care for the animals, too.” I shrugged. “Who knows, maybe one day I’ll be a veterinarian, just like her?”

  “But I’ll miss you so much,” Lucy said, frowning. “And you’re so good—”

  “Thanks,” I said. “But you know what? It might be nice to try something else for a while and see how it goes?”

  Something had changed in me this winter. Having Hamlet at the house helped me realize that gymnastics was just one piece of my life. There were other pieces to me and other things I might like. For once, the idea of putting my energy into something else wasn’t scary.

  It was kind of exciting.

  “That’s great, Josie,” said Fernanda.

  “Do you think Dr. Stern will let me visit the clinic to draw the animals?” asked Carlos.

  “I don’t see why not!” I said.

  “And the Three-Week Rule comes true again!” said Sully victoriously, his face smug.

  I laughed. “Oh, yeah? How’s that?”

  “You just think about it and get back to me.” Sully grinned, and I couldn’t help but grin back.

  Maybe I did have a crush on Sully!

  “Okay,” I said, my mind spinning.

  Could Sully actually be right? Did the Three-Week Rule really exist? When Dr. Stern gave Hamlet a physical exam back around Thanksgiving, I knew I’d always liked animals . . . but it wasn’t until that day on Mrs. Taglioni’s stoop after Ralphie died, when Dr. Stern mentioned that animals seemed to like me, too, that I started noticing it more and more. And before I knew it, all kinds of things were swirling around my brain: good things—not just fears about my gymnastics routines or me growing too tall, too fast.

  “Can’t you do both, Josie?” Lucy sighed. “Gymnastics and work at the clinic?”

  “I don’t think so.” I shook my head. “But I haven’t decided for sure what I’m going to do yet, okay?” Dad honked the horn on the van as he pulled in front of the Three Stoops. I tightened my grip on Hamlet’s leash. “Gotta go, guys.”

  “Bye-bye, Hammie!” Lucy said, giving the pig one last hug. “See you soon! I promise to visit!” Sully, Carlos, and Fernanda did the same, and I led Hamlet down the stoop steps.

  “Hey, Josie—I have a basketball game tomorrow! JUST SO YOU KNOW!” Sully yelled out from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and caught Lucy’s eyes widen like, What’s that all about?

  Sully’s hands looked frozen on the rim of his baseball cap. It felt as if my heart was soaring in my chest, and I couldn’t help but grin back. The world felt like it was in slow motion for one minute, and I said, “I’ll be there,” and grinned back.

  Leading Hamlet toward the van, I waved good-bye to my friends.

  “Ready?” asked Dad when I swung open the door. The family was piled in the three rows. Hamlet jumped up and squeezed her big body into the far back by Tom, like she was just another one of the kids.

  “Yep,” I said, buckling my seat belt. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 33

  HOME SWEET HOME

  It was the warmest New Year’s Day on record. At least, that’s what Lucy said Evette Waters reported on television that day. By lunchtime, most of the snow had melted away. The sun was radiant, giving the winding country road a shiny glow as we whooshed past farm after farm.

  “This is it,” Mom said, tapping the map in her lap. Dad slowly pressed the brake pedal, and we all peeked out the left window at a long driveway. The property was tucked away behind tall pine trees and a rolling hill, so we couldn’t get a good look at it.

  The van tires crunched on the gravel as we drove up toward the house, curving alongside a pasture of grazing horses and a few cows. We parked in front of a large red barn. The doors had been pulled wide and windows swung open. Chickens pecked for grain by a water trough.

  None of us spoke a word as we got out of the van. I kept Hamlet on the leash for now, just until we were sure everything was right as rain. We walked up to the house, and it was like every single one of us wanted to soak it all in: the smell of wet soil and grass, how it felt in your lungs to breathe in the cool, crisp air. Hamlet’s chin lifted, and she bobbed her snout a few times, as if she caught wind of something exciting about to happen. My heart swelled, and I rubbed her back. “I feel it, too,” I whispered.

  The man was waiting on the steps, just as he said he would be. “Hi there,” he greeted us, smiling. “Happy you made it!”

  Even from a distance, I could see wrinkles on his face. He had the same dark, frizzy hair like his sister, but he was nearly bald on the top of his head.

  “We’re glad to be here,” Mom said. “I’m Emily. This is my husband, Stephen, and our five children, Tom, Ellen, Sarah, Josie, and Amelia. And of course, this is Hamlet!”

  He took a few steps in our direction. “Nice to finally meet you. I’m Mike Upton.” The screen door behind him opened wide and slammed shut. “That must be Molly now . . .”

  Mrs. Taglioni greeted us with a warm smile. Her black-and silver-speckled hair had been unpinned from her usual high bun, and it flowed in curls past her ears. “Hello, everybody,” she said.

  “Hi, Mrs. Taglioni!” I called out.

  “Saw you on the news. You’re my famous neighbors now!” Mrs. Taglioni said, loosening the scarf around her neck. “Warm out, isn’t it? And Josie, I had no idea the pressure you were under regarding that pig. . . .” She shook her head. “Fresh corn bread just out of the oven. Who wants
some? Children? Hamlet?” She winked.

  “Me!” said Amelia and Sarah in unison. Mrs. Taglioni passed the plate around and gave an extra big corn bread square to Hamlet, who gobbled it up on the front yard.

  “I can’t tell you how grateful we are, Mike, that you’re willing to adopt Hamlet,” said Dad. “Josie gave her a bath this morning, so she’s nice and clean.”

  Mr. Upton led us to the barn. “I’m glad it worked out. I have a soft spot for animals. But I think my older sister might’ve told you about that . . .”

  “We heard about the bird shows!” said Amelia, making Mr. Upton laugh again.

  “I want to hear more about them,” added Ellen.

  “That was a long time ago when I was a more adventurous sort,” he said. “But I did go to quite a few bird shows. Now here we are.” Mr. Upton stopped in front of a fenced pen attached to the barn. A pile of fresh hay sat beneath an awning, and several troughs provided fresh water and food scraps. “My donkey used to live in this pen before she died last year, and nothing would make me happier than Hamlet moving in.” He motioned to the doors. “It’s got inside and outside space, so she’ll be free to move around as she pleases.”

  “She’ll like that,” I said, scratching behind her ears. Hamlet tugged hard on the leash. I laughed. “I think Hamlet wants to take a look around.”

  “Smart pig,” said Mr. Upton. “Here you go, Hamlet. Welcome home.”

  Hamlet had a makeshift cave at our house, and now she had a real deal pigpen. Mr. Upton opened a little gate and let Hamlet inside while he told us about the other animals on his property. I immediately liked the soft tone of his voice and the way he talked about his animals’ personalities like they were part of his family. Hamlet sniffed around for a bit and guzzled down carrots before plopping down in a pile of mud and rolling around. We all laughed.

  I’d given Hamlet countless baths over the last few months, but I’d never seen her face like this before. I swear, Hamlet was actually smiling, if that was even possible!

  Chipmunks and birds darted in and out of the pen, fluttering around the cedar chips in search of leftover food. There were two big food bowls that Mr. Upton assured me were heavy and designed just for mischievous pigs who like to flip their bowls.

  “She’s going to fit right in here,” Mr. Upton said, hooking his thumbs on his belt loops. “And my grandkids sure will be happy to have a pig around!”

  I grinned. We had learned about Mrs. Taglioni’s brother during our phone conversation yesterday. He was divorced, had three grown children and ten grandchildren. Mr. Upton said his door was always swinging open and closed with visitors popping in to take the horses on trail rides, feed bread to the ducks, and make s’mores out by the fire pit. And when he told us that Mrs. Taglioni took the train out every month to visit him, I almost couldn’t believe it. She had this whole other life I had known nothing about!

  “Don’t worry, Hamlet will get lots of attention,” Mr. Upton said. “And remember, you’re welcome to visit any time you want.”

  “Maybe we’ll take the train out together sometime?” Mrs. Taglioni offered. “It’s always nice to take a train ride.”

  It was then that I remembered seeing her the other day when I was hanging out at the Three Stoops, and how Mrs. Taglioni wore the Tuxedo Pigeon feather pinned on her hat. She had told us she was off on an adventure—and she was! She came to her brother’s farm. It was here that she saw my family on the news with Evette Waters and learned about the trouble we were in, trying to find Hamlet a home. She had talked it over with her brother, and they both agreed that Hamlet should come live here, with Mr. Upton and his animals.

  And that’s when the call came through—the call that changed everything.

  I never would’ve guessed that Mrs. Taglioni of all people would be the one to help us find a forever home for Hamlet. But sometimes in life, the answers to your greatest questions are right there in front of you.

  I leaned against the fence, watching as the chickens pecked in the dirt and Hamlet stretched her legs out. We stayed and had lunch with Mrs. Taglioni and Mr. Upton, and then it came time for good-byes at the barn.

  Everyone had his or her chance to say something to Hamlet. Tom recounted the story about when he first saved her life, and Dad finally laughed about all of it, retelling our chaotic Thanksgiving to Mr. Upton and Mrs. Taglioni. Mom shared the story about Hamlet’s Escape, and Ellen added how I gave all my allowance money to pay for Mrs. Taglioni’s fence, which made the old woman rush to my side and give me a hug. Sarah laughed about the awkward dinner with Ms. Coburn, which made Dad sigh in relief that his new job was starting soon. Amelia recounted the day Hamlet raided the fridge while she tried to defend it with a fly swatter and told Mr. Upton that he’d better not install floor tiles in the barn because Hamlet likes to pull them up with her teeth. Then everyone looked at me.

  “What will you miss most about Hamlet, Josie?” asked Mom.

  I stared at the pigpen for a moment, thinking about it. There were so many things I’d miss about Hamlet—a trillion things I’d never forget. But there was one thing that I’d been thinking about that whole morning.

  My eyes welled up with tears. “How she made us feel like a family again.”

  “Oh, honey.” Dad gave me a squeeze. “We’re always a family.”

  “I know.” I nodded. I did know. Mom smiled.

  “Yeah, you can’t get rid of me, sis,” said Tom, elbowing me in the ribs and making me laugh. “Even if I am at college.”

  “Or when I go to college,” said Ellen.

  “Same here,” said Sarah.

  “Or me!” chimed in Amelia, raising a mittened hand.

  “Now, before we head home, I have one final thing for Hamlet . . .” Dad said, popping the trunk of the van. He pulled out his favorite blue slippers. “Just something for her to remember us by.” Dad tossed them on a bed of straw in Hamlet’s Pen and then turned to my brother. She immediately nuzzled her snout up against them, happy as can be. “And Tom? We love when you come home for visits, but no more pigs, okay?”

  Tom nodded. “You got it, Dad. No more pigs.”

  “Or earrings,” added Sarah.

  “Or laundry!” said Ellen.

  “When can I get my ears pierced?” asked Amelia, making Mom laugh.

  “C’mon, kids,” she said. “Let’s go home.” Everyone started to pile in the old van, but I stopped just as Dad climbed behind the wheel.

  “Dad?” I said. “Can I have one more minute?”

  It felt like I’d said good-bye to Hamlet a hundred times already, but I needed to be alone with her. I walked toward the fence and leaned against the wood. The clouds parted, and sunlight filled her pen. Hamlet’s eyes half closed. Her soft oinks sounded light. Happy.

  This was right.

  And this wasn’t good-bye.

  “See you soon, Hamlet,” I said, trying not to cry. “I love you.”

  I blew Hamlet a kiss, and she oinked back, as if she knew we’d be together again soon. As I walked toward the van, I didn’t look back.

  But a rustle in the nearby trees made me look up. A black-and-white bird rested on a twisted branch. It spread its wings wide and took to the sky, making me gasp out loud. I swung open the van door, calling out to my family, “You won’t believe this, but hurry! LOOK! LOOK!”

  I pointed, but the blue sky was empty except for drifting clouds. But I knew—deep down inside—that I didn’t imagine the magical Tuxedo Pigeon. It had been on the farm. And now it was off on its next mission.

  “What is it, Josie?” asked Ellen.

  “Oh, nothing, I guess,” I said, sliding into a seat beside Sarah.

  Mom smiled. “You okay, sweetie?”

  I nodded, staring out the window as Dad turned the ignition and started to drive. My heart had never felt so full before. There were so many changes happening at once.

  How could someone be so sad and so happy at the same time?

  But I was also some
thing else.

  I was thankful.

  We listened to music and played games on the drive home. By the time we parked in front of our tiny city townhouse, I didn’t feel like crying anymore. Sure, it was like a piece of me was missing with Hamlet back at the farm, but I had a whole life here with my friends, and maybe gymnastics, or possibly helping Dr. Stern out at the clinic. And who knows? Maybe I’d even have a boyfriend one day, too.

  Plus, I had my big, wild family. And I wouldn’t change that for the world.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  It is a difficult task to properly thank all the incredible people who not only bring a book to life, but who have supported you on your creative path.

  Thank you to my rock star literary agent, Alexander Slater, for making my dream a reality and guiding me on my debut publication journey. I’m forever grateful to you and the whole team at Trident Media Group.

  To my fabulous editor, Jocelyn Davies, thank you for loving this story as much as I do. Your smart, thoughtful edits made it infinitely stronger. You are a dream editor, and I’m extremely grateful for the support this debut has found at HarperCollins Children’s Books. It takes a whole bunch of talented people to publish a book, and I’m deeply thankful for everyone’s hard work copyediting, designing, marketing, publicizing, and selling my first novel, with an extra shout-out to David Curtis for the cover design and to Pascal Campion for the cover art. Thank you!

  I wouldn’t be the person I am today without all the wonderful teachers, administrators, booksellers, and librarians who provided me with safe places to read all sorts of books and ask questions about them, who taught me how to read, how to listen, and how to write. Special thanks to everyone at Jones Middle School and the Upper Arlington Public Library in Columbus, Ohio. To Mr. Dom Forker, my Del Val High School English teacher, your Creative Writing class changed the direction of my life. To FSU Professors David Kirby and Barbara Hamby, thank you for teaching me the value of a workshop. To poet Luci Tapahonso, my U of AZ MFA thesis advisor, thank you for your kindness and gentle mentorship. Christine Tomalin, I have never forgotten your kindness and guidance—thank you.