Bristol Bay Summer

by Annie Boochever

  Zoey remembered trying to get her arm free in the crowded seat for a final wave. Then the truck turned the corner and her friend disappeared.

  “Earth to Zoey. You gotta at least have one.” Her mom stood in front of her, cookie tin in hand.

  Maybe she wasn’t that full.

  When nearly half the cookies were gone, Patrick grabbed the kids’ packs. “Come on, guys. Let’s get your sleeping bags laid out. You’ve got your very own bedroom next door.”

  Their mom filled the teapot from the jug of iodine-treated water and put it on the stove. “I’ll clean up here. You go ahead.”

  Once outside, Patrick finished their toilet lesson. Zoey, Eliot, and Lhasa followed him along the beach in the opposite direction from where they had found the boat. Up over the high grass and down onto the tundra. There, sheltered from most of the wind, was a hole in the ground about three feet deep with a couple of logs laid over it for a seat.

  “This is our latrine. I dug it on my first flight out to scout the beach.”

  “You can’t be serious. No way!” Zoey crossed her arms and turned away.

  “Well, you have two choices,” explained Patrick. “You can either go here, or you can squat down on the beach near the water. If you go down there, put your toilet paper under a rock, so it doesn’t blow around before the tide comes in.”

  Zoey and Eliot stared at Patrick. The seagulls cried along the shore.

  Finally Patrick said, “I suppose I could rig up a lean-to over it. You know, give you a little privacy and maybe keep the rain out. I’ll see if we have enough lumber. But don’t worry, no one can see you behind all this grass anyway.”

  Zoey fumed. This was way worse than she had imagined. There was nothing to give her any privacy from Eliot. And what if a plane flew over? How embarrassing!

  “Eliot, I’m going to make a sign that says ‘KEEP OUT!’ Any time you see that sign sticking out of the sand over there, you will NOT, NOT, NOT come any closer, or you will die a horrible, painful death. Got it?”

  Eliot was silent a moment. Then he smiled his sweetest puppy smile. “Got it, Zo.”

  Or was that Raven, the trickster, talking? Zoey was not reassured.

  They hiked back to the campsite without a word. Patrick helped them blow up air mattresses and spread out their sleeping bags.

  “Goodnight, guys. I think you’re going to like it here. I hope you will. Your mom and I are right next door if you need anything.” He disappeared through the tent flap.

  Zoey slid the duffel with her art kit between her sleeping bag and the wall of the tent. The pack with her clothes and books she pushed down to the far end. Then she crawled inside her sleeping bag. It was still light out, but the green nylon of the tent shaded them. Eliot snuggled up to Lhasa and was soon asleep.

  So this was their new life. Zoey wondered what Bethany was doing. Maybe watching the Kate and Allie show, or listening to Cindy Lauper sing “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” on the radio. Zoey softly hummed it until she felt tears in her eyes. Some fun she was having. Anchorage seemed like a million miles away. And where was her dad? What would he think of her now? She wanted to write to him right then but she was too tired. It would have to wait.

  Eliot’s mouth hung slightly open. The sound of his breathing mixed with the whisper of the waves, as though the ocean were breathing too. She tried to match her own breaths with her brother’s and then with the water as it whooshed in … and out…. Finally, they were all breathing together, like one big family, Eliot, Zoey, and Bristol Bay.

  That was the last thing she remembered until Lhasa barked. The dog sounded frantic.

  What was wrong?

  5

  Night Visitors

  Zoey glanced at her watch, eleven o’clock. She fumbled for the zipper, opened the tent flap, and peered out. The sun was gone, but the sky was still light! Eliot stirred inside his sleeping bag. Patrick emerged from the big tent, a rifle in his hand. “I hope she hasn’t found our first bear.”

  As the seriousness of the situation hit them, Zoey and Eliot squirmed from their sleeping bags and yanked their clothes on. Seconds later, they raced out of the tent and ran to catch up. Patrick was jogging toward the stream where they had filled their water jugs. They heard Lhasa bark somewhere ahead of him.

  Where the sun had set, a deep red glow bloomed from behind the distant mountain peaks like the coals of a dying fire. Thin clouds overhead were shot with pink and gold, and the sand seemed to glow. Zoey and Eliot caught up with Patrick before he reached the creek.

  “Stop right there,” Patrick whispered.

  Ahead, on their side of the creek, Lhasa crouched and barked furiously. Across the narrow stream, a fierce looking creature, something like a giant weasel, and almost as big as the dog, bared its teeth and growled.

  Zoey’s mom shouted in a firm voice, “Lhasa, come!” The dog turned toward her, but continued to bark.

  In a half whisper, Patrick said, “It’s a river otter, and the dog’s got it all riled up.”

  A shadowy movement near an old log a short distance up the beach from the big otter caught Zoey’s eye. More of them! Babies! Zoey pointed her index finger and shook it with excitement.

  Four tiny animals stumbled from behind the log and one at a time paraded along the creek bank toward the ocean. The big otter, which Zoey decided must have been the mother, carefully stayed between the babies and Lhasa and looked scarier than ever. But the babies were another matter, so cute with their smooshed up faces and long snaky tails. When they walked, they scrunched up in the middle and then oozed out the way an inchworm does, only faster. Zoey was half thinking of picking one up to pet when Patrick hissed at them.

  “Don’t get too close.”

  Lhasa wasn’t listening. She inched toward the biggest otter. It backed away in a fit of toothy snarls and growls. The babies scurried back toward the log, bumping into one another as they backpedaled. Lhasa bared her teeth, too, and growled ferociously.

  Suddenly, the mother otter crossed the stream and lunged at Lhasa. They merged into a rolling ball of fur, sand, and ear-splitting screeches. Lhasa, bigger and heavier, was able to keep the otter off balance, but the mother showed she was determined not to let the dog get any closer to her pups. After a few seconds the two animals once again faced off, this time with their muzzles only inches apart.

  “Lhasa!” Zoey screamed and leaped toward the animals.

  “Get back here, Zoey!” Her mother grabbed Zoey by the arm, but Zoey broke loose and charged forward.

  “LHASA!” Zoey’s scream was immediately lost amid a new explosion of squeals, yelps, and hisses as the two animals clashed again.

  Zoey knew it was foolish to get too close. She instinctively covered her ears with her hands. Sand churned around the animals making it impossible to see exactly what was happening. Zoey’s heart pounded. What if Lhasa was killed? She grabbed a handful of sand in each hand, darted forward, and threw it in the midst of the fight with another shout, “STOP IT!”

  Lhasa’s bark choked into a yelp, and at the same moment the otter broke free and retreated across the stream to the log. Lhasa whimpered and slunk to Zoey’s side. Zoey grabbed the dog by the collar and pulled her back toward Patrick and the others.

  Meanwhile, the frightened babies rushed from behind the log once again, and their mother herded the whimpering brood down the creek to the ocean, turning often toward Lhasa as if to say, “Don’t even think about it!”

  When the little ones reached the deeper saltwater, they dove, then surfaced several yards from shore. The mother was the last to enter the water. When she was fully submerged, Zoey loosened her grip on Lhasa and the dog trotted over to Zoey’s mom, wagged her tail, and panted.

  “Zoey what did you think you were going to do to that mother otter?” Patrick scowled. “She could take your hand off in one bite.”

  Zoey put her hands on her hips. “Somebody had to help Lhasa. She’s part of our family. You can’t just watch like it’s s
ome Disney show.”

  Patrick grabbed her by the shoulders. “You never chase after a wild animal, Zoey. NEVER. You have no idea what even a small one like an otter could do to you. We can’t afford to make mistakes out here. It’s sixty miles to Dillingham, and the only way there is by plane. If you screw up, and no one’s around to help, you could die. Got it?”

  He released her, and Zoey turned away. Her lower lip trembled. She tried hard to stay strong, but a few tears escaped and snuck down her cheeks.

  “Who does he think he is?” she demanded.

  Her mother put an arm around her, but Zoey shook her shoulders violently. “Leave me alone!” She stomped toward the tent, shoving each foot hard into the gravel.

  “Look!” It was Eliot.

  Zoey turned to see one more baby otter slink from behind the log. Zoey’s mom grabbed Lhasa’s collar and the dog’s ears snapped forward. The little otter squealed as it hurried after the rest.

  “Awwwwww,” said Eliot.

  Zoey kept her distance from Patrick and her mom, but stood and watched too. She was furious at Patrick for being so tough on her. Her dad would never have done that. She thought of the time her mom had yelled at her because Zoey had taken most of Eliot’s Halloween candy away.

  But Zoey was just trying to keep him from getting sick. Her dad seemed to understand. He said he and Zoey were going for a moonlight walk. And that’s what they did, just the two of them. Her dad had pointed out Orion and the Big Dipper. Standing there on the beach two thousand miles from their old home, Zoey thought of trying to find those constellations in the sky, but it wasn’t even dark yet.

  Zoey called Lhasa over to her. Other than a cut on her nose and a slimy coating of sand and otter slobber, the dog didn’t seem hurt. The otter family soon disappeared in the dark, shimmering water.

  Back in the tent, Zoey waited until Eliot was asleep. It was bad enough being all jammed up in a dinky tent with her Raven Boy brother, on the edge of nowhere. She was not going to take orders from her mom’s stupid boyfriend.

  Outside the wind picked up. The tent quivered. The nylon sides sucked in then snapped back out. It began to rain. Little drops at first, but soon it sounded like a corn popper had gone crazy. Zoey could no longer hear Eliot’s breathing over the din.

  She reached for her duffel bag and shuffled through it until she found the photo. Eliot on a rope swing behind their old house in Colorado. Near the edge of the photo, watching the action with his crooked old grin and shaggy hair, was her dad.

  Sure, her parents had fought sometimes. They all do that, right? But her mom said it wasn’t “normal.” The fights had gotten worse. Something had to change, she said. In school, teachers separate kids when they can’t get along. So, that’s kind of what happened, only no one told her parents to separate. They just did it one day, without asking Zoey about it at all. Later, her dad said he didn’t want the divorce, but her mom wouldn’t budge.

  “My favorite girl,” he used to say. Then he just fell out of her life.

  “It’s for the best,” Zoey’s mom had told her. “You don’t know everything that was going on. We will all be happier this way, I promise.” Easy for her to say, but now Zoey was just one more kid in a “single-parent household.” So maybe her mom and dad didn’t like each other anymore. Why did they have to go and mess up her life?

  A few weeks later, they had packed up and moved to Alaska, where all her mom’s family was from. They stayed a while with Zoey’s grandparents, Nana and Papa, in Juneau, a place Zoey had visited a couple of times before. It rained the whole time they were there.

  Then it was on the ferry and back in the car for three more days of driving to Anchorage, where her mom’s sister, Aunt Linda, lived. And finally to the little house up the street from Bethany where Zoey and Eliot shared a basement bedroom. A room that felt as far from Zoey’s old life as a hotel on the moon.

  “Someday you’ll understand,” her mom had told her.

  Oh yeah? When would that be?

  She placed the photo back in the duffel and grabbed her stationery. Her dad would want to know what was happening to her, to all of them. She was sure he would write soon, and then she’d have his address.

  June 20

  Dear Dad,

  You won’t believe where I am. Bristol Bay, Alaska! It’s all Patrick’s idea (that’s Mom’s new boyfriend). Maybe you already heard, but he dragged us all out here in his ratty airplane so he could haul fish.

  Don’t worry, Dad, I show Mom what a dork he really is every day.

  Guess what we saw tonight? Otters! A whole family of them! I couldn’t believe the babies. They were so cute. I thought Lhasa and the mother otter were going to kill each other, but thanks to me, they didn’t.

  Anyway, how are you? I really miss you. I was hoping to earn babysitting money this summer so I could come visit you, but now I can’t do that. Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out. I’m going to buy a plane ticket … somehow.

  But where are you now? How come you haven’t called?

  I guess this is it for a while. Oh, I didn’t tell you about our “bathroom.” Disgusting! An open pit on the beach! What is Mom thinking?

  I hope you get this letter. I’ll have to keep it here until you write so I’ll know where to send it. I’m so tired. I’ll write more later. I really love you, Dad.

  Your Faraway Daughter,

  Zoey

  6

  A New Boy

  Zoey woke to a shrill call. An eagle? That wild sound. It reminded her of Juneau. There were lots of eagles there. The complaint sounded again somewhere overhead: “Eeeeeeeee.” A seagull joined in, and soon bird cries filled the sky. No rain, but the wind still rustled the sides of the tent. Underneath all that, she heard the steady roll of waves hitting the shore.

  She stretched as far as she could in the little pup tent and looked over at Eliot. He was propped up on one elbow studying her. Lhasa was sandwiched between them, which didn’t leave a lot of extra room to move around.

  “How long have you been watching me?”

  “You were twitching. Were you having a dream?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t remember.” She listened to the ocean, and something else—an odd raspy sound.

  It was Eliot. When he breathed out, he hissed like a leaky tire.

  “What’s wrong with you? You sound like Darth Vader.”

  “I don’t know. I just woke up this way.”

  “That’s how you were after we played in Bethany’s attic, and Mom had to take you to the doctor, remember?”

  “I’m okay, Zoey.”

  Lhasa sat up and pointed her ears toward the door flap.

  Zoey sat up too. “What was that?”

  Over the sound of the wind and waves came a soft tapping. Zoey rolled onto her stomach, and Eliot did the same. Zoey lifted the tent flap so they could see outside, but whatever had tapped was out of view. Lhasa inched forward between them. Eliot put his arm around her and sat absolutely still.

  Tap, tap, tap. It was coming from the side of the tent.

  Eliot looked at Zoey and tightened his hold on the dog. Zoey slowly unzipped the mosquito netting.

  “Lhasa, stay.” She half crawled out of the tent and peered around the corner. A large black raven was pecking at the shiny metal spikes Patrick had hammered into the wooden platform to hold down the tent.

  Slowly, the raven hopped its way toward the front of the tent as Zoey tucked herself back in. There. They could both see the raven only a few feet away. Fine, black feathers covered its head. Bigger ones cloaked its throat and chest like the dark armor of King Arthur’s knights. One thick feather in the bird’s tail stood out. It was dusty gray. The bird saw them and cocked its head. As if on command, Lhasa, Zoey, and Eliot cocked their heads too and stared back.

  “Eeeeeeeeeee,” shrieked the eagle from high over their heads, and the raven skittered away from the tent. It flew low down the beach and landed on the sand, still within view.

 
“Let’s follow him!” Eliot was already pulling jeans and a sweatshirt from the bottom of his sleeping bag. He crawled out on the tent platform to put them on.

  “Wait for me. Do you think Mom’s still asleep?” said Zoey, nodding toward the big tent and pulling her sweater over the long-john top she liked to wear for pajamas.

  They listened but didn’t hear anything. The front flap on the big tent was closed.

  Zoey found her own jeans and they each slipped on a pair of thick rubber boots and finally their rain jackets. Eliot pressed his ear against the door flap of the big tent.

  “Mom and Patrick are still in there,” he whispered.

  Zoey nodded and they moved silently past the tent.

  “How’s your Darth Vader thing?”

  Eliot still sounded funny, but he said, “It’s okay. Come on.”

  The sky was a cold gray. Zoey took a deep breath of sea air and clutched Lhasa’s collar. Every time they got close to the raven, it would fly off a little farther down the beach. When the raven was nearly to the stream where they had seen the otters, it turned and flew up along the streambed toward the tundra and disappeared behind the grassy hill. They followed behind. When they rounded the edge of the hill, close to the old boat, they stopped short.

  The raven was perched on the roof of the wheelhouse. Below it, a boy worked with a knife, carving something into the side of the boat.

  “What’s your name?” called Eliot when they were still some distance away.

  The boy looked up, startled. His hooded sweatshirt hid much of his face, but Zoey could see straight dark hair framing a pair of equally dark eyes. She thought he looked Alaska Native, related to the people whose ancestors had lived in Alaska thousands of years before white people showed up.

  Lhasa pulled so hard that Zoey let her go. She wagged her tail and bounded up to the boy, who took a step back, then kneeled to pet her. Zoey and Eliot moved closer.