Bristol Bay Summer

by Annie Boochever

  The boy put his knife in a sheath on his belt and pulled back the sweatshirt hood. His straight nose and angular face gave him a proud look, and Zoey’s first thought was that those brown eyes were somehow laughing at her. When the boy pulled Lhasa’s face right up to his and gave her a big grin, Zoey knew she wanted to find out more about him.

  “I’m Thomas.” He scratched both of Lhasa’s ears at once. “Who are you?” He said this to the dog, as if he were more interested in her than in Zoey or Eliot.

  “That’s Lhasa. Do you live around here?” asked Eliot.

  “Were you here yesterday?” asked Zoey, remembering the shadow she had seen. Thomas looked up. “I saw you come in. Our fish camp is down the beach.” He pointed with his head toward the area of Halfmoon Bay they had first flown over, on the far side of the stream.

  He was about a head taller than Zoey, and he looked maybe two years older. It had never occurred to Zoey she might find someone close to her age on the beach at Halfmoon Bay. She tried to think of something else to ask, but she couldn’t find the words. He seemed so different. Zoey felt her face flush and hoped he couldn’t see it from where he stood.

  “Zooooeeey! Ellllllllliot!”

  Mom.

  The boy pulled his hood up and started walking away.

  “Wait, don’t leave yet.” Zoey blurted.

  He stopped but still faced away.

  “Are you the only other kid around here?”

  He turned partway toward Zoey. “Not sure who is coming out this year. Depends. You’re the only city kids.”

  Zoey bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re from Anchorage. I’ve been there before. Gotta get back to camp.” He turned and jogged down the beach. The raven hopped twice on the cabin roof and flew off in the same direction.

  “Wait!” Zoey called, but Thomas was gone.

  The only other kid out here, and he’s either stuck up or weird.

  Zoey walked over to the boat to see what the boy had been carving. Dug into the peeling black paint were the letters SOC. Below them, she could see the start of some kind of carved design, but she couldn’t make out what it was supposed to be. And what did SOC mean?

  Zoey’s gaze followed the boy. She tugged at her pigtails. It was time to get rid of these. He probably thought she was about ten.

  As Thomas disappeared down the beach, Zoey noticed the raven again. Sunshine pierced the fog and made the back of the bird glisten as it flew. Zoey sighed.

  Eliot joined her. “This could be our secret fort.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not very secret anymore. He could come back.”

  Their mom shouted again from down the beach: “Zooooey! Ellllllliot! Where are you?”

  “Coming.”

  When they got back to the tent, they found their mom searching through boxes, mumbling about whole grain pancake mix. Patrick sat in a corner of the kitchen with a calculator and a notebook.

  “Mom, Mom,” shouted Eliot as he burst through the door flap. “We just met a boy.” Their mom set a box down hard.

  “His name was….”

  “Listen, you two, in case you haven’t noticed, we are not in Anchorage anymore. You can’t just take off without telling us. And when I call you, I want to hear an answer.”

  Zoey didn’t get it. “But we said we were coming.”

  “Not until I called twice,” her mother shot back. “I want you to have a good time, but this can be a dangerous place. And you left your tent flap open. Don’t come crying to me when you have mosquitoes and sand fleas and who knows what else in your beds.”

  “And lions and tigers and bears,” said Patrick without looking up. “Especially bears.”

  Their mom frowned.

  “Go wash up for breakfast in the big bucket outside. Tomorrow, I’ll heat some water so you can bathe.”

  Zoey hated it when her mom scolded her like a little kid. She didn’t seem to realize her daughter was growing up.

  “Mom, give me a break. First you just about kidnap us from Colorado, then when I finally start to get used to Anchorage and find someone to hang out with, you haul us out to this pit. Is there some kind of plan here? Because, if there is, somebody forgot to tell me. Where’s it going to be tomorrow? We’re practically to Japan as it is. But I get it. Don’t leave the tent flap open. That’s what’s important to you now.”

  Zoey stomped out of the tent. Eliot followed her, reached a hand out, and touched her shoulder.

  “Quit patting me! I’m not a dog!” She stared at the bucket of water. “Why can’t this be a normal family?” She plunged her hands into the icy water. “Hasn’t anyone out here heard of plumbing?”

  Eliot turned to look at the spot where the raven had pecked earlier. He bent down and traced his fingers over little indentations in the wood around the tent spikes.

  “That raven has a strong beak. Hey, Zoey! Look,” whispered Eliot.

  Not six yards away the raven had reappeared. From the back of its throat came a sound like someone drumming on a wood block. The bird looked at them as if waiting for something.

  Zoey returned to the awning and slipped inside the big tent. “I know you don’t care, but our raven is back. What can we feed it?”

  Patrick shook his head. “It’s never a good idea to feed wild animals, even a bird. They get dependent on handouts.”

  “Oh, come on!” Zoey rolled her eyes and wiped her wet hands on her pants.

  “Patrick, it’s only one raven.” Zoey’s mom spooned the batter onto the griddle.

  “Dad would have let me feed him, and you know it, Mom.”

  Eliot burst into the tent. “He just flew away, but he’ll be back. His name is … Blackie! Blackie the Raven!”

  “Blackie? How about ‘Midnight?’” said Zoey. “It’s more mysterious.”

  “Yeah, Midnight!” said Eliot.

  The batter bubbled sweet smells that filled the tent. “If your new bird friend is out there when you’re done eating, I’ll make him a pancake, okay?” Zoey’s mom said.

  “Don’t pay any attention to me. Bird’s perfectly capable of taking care of itself. But I give up.” Patrick shook his head, poured himself a cup of coffee, and went back to his notebook.

  Zoey and Eliot sat down around the old cable spool that was their dinner table.

  Patrick closed the notebook. “I gotta get going. I’m supposed to pick up a guy in Dillingham today who’s working on the setnet. Plus, I need to find out when they’re going to open the season.” He patted the notebook. “Better be soon so I can start paying some bills. If we’re going to make this thing work, Fish and Game better give the green light.”

  “We need some groceries, too. Milk, eggs, maybe some apples,” Zoey’s mom said without turning away from the stove. “Oh, and you said something about getting a radio for us so we could call you if you weren’t here?” She lifted the edge of the pancakes with the spatula. “Do you really have to go all the way to Dillingham? Without us?”

  “You’ll be fine. Besides, you can feed that raven to your heart’s content. Feed him ’til he bursts if you want.”

  “Get over it, Patrick.” She flipped both pancakes and smacked them with the spatula as they landed back on the griddle.

  Patrick pulled his backpack from a shelf as Zoey’s mom plopped a pancake onto each plate.

  “Now, what about this boy, Zoey? Where did you see him?” her mom asked.

  “Was it Thomas?” asked Patrick.

  “Yeah,” Eliot said. “How’d you know his name?”

  “That’s Carolyn Gamble’s son. He can tell you a thing or two about fishing.”

  “He wasn’t very friendly,” Zoey said.

  “They’re our next-door neighbors, from down past the creek where we get water. Give him a chance. You might be surprised.”

  “What are they doing here? Are they fishermen?”

  “That’s who I’m hauling fish for. And Thomas’s uncle Harold is who I’m picking up today
in Dillingham.” He stuffed his notebook, wool jacket, and hat into the knapsack and slung it onto his back. He grabbed an old handheld radio off the shelf. “I’ll see if I can get parts for this—too expensive to buy a new one. Besides, it won’t do much good. The range is terrible. Only works if the plane is just about right overhead.”

  He grabbed a couple of pancakes off the top of the stack. “For the road. Be back before bedtime.” He gave Eliot and Zoey each a pat on the head, and kissed their mom on his way out.

  Zoey finished her pancake and sopped up the syrup with the last bite. She wanted to lick her plate but thought better of it.

  “Let’s get this kitchen cleaned up, and we’ll go say ‘Hi’ to Carolyn. We’ll take her some of the wildflower honey I saved from Colorado. They have blueberries, blackberries, huckleberries, cranberries, and salmonberries out here, but I don’t think they have many honeybees. You two go to the bathroom first.”

  Go to the bathroom? Did Mom think they were two years old?

  Zoey waited till Eliot came back before she went to the latrine. When it was her turn, she thought how foolish she must look balanced on a log with her jeans on the sand. Still, if she pushed her head up, she could see miles of Bristol Bay right there in front of her. Eagles. Seagulls. Even salmon jumping in the water. Like a magazine picture, but with sound effects.

  Back by the tent, Zoey heard the airplane start far down the beach where Patrick had parked it. Her mom’s hand appeared through the flap holding two pairs of rain pants.

  “Put these on.”

  “It’s not even raining.”

  “They’ll block the wind and keep you warm.” Her hand disappeared back inside.

  I can pick out my own pants.

  Zoey heard Patrick’s plane taxi down the beach away from them. When the engine revved, she and Eliot looked up, hoping to see him fly by.

  Once in the air, the plane doubled back and flew directly over them, dipping its wings to wave “good-bye.”

  “Show off,” said Zoey.

  They watched the plane disappear over the horizon, then Eliot grabbed Zoey’s hand.

  She was surprised to see how pale he looked. “What’s wrong, Eliot?”

  “Zo, I don’t feel so good.”

  7

  Darth Vader

  Let me hear you breathe.”

  Eliot took a deep breath and let out a raspy wheeze.

  “Oh, Eliot. I thought it was gone. You’ve been breathing fine all morning.” Zoey pulled the flap open on the big tent and stuck her head in. “Mom! You better look at Eliot. He’s not breathing very well.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Eliot went to his mother and let her feel his forehead. He breathed out hard so she could hear the funny sound.

  “You feel a little warm. How long has this been going on?”

  ”Since I woke up.”

  “Why didn’t you say something before Patrick left? Without a radio, I have no way to reach him.”

  Her voice went up several notches. “What am I supposed to do now. I don’t know if I even brought that inhaler. You had asthma once in your life, and that was months and months ago!”

  Lhasa, curled in a corner, stretched her legs and yawned.

  “It’s okay, Mom.” Eliot moved next to the dog. “I’ll just lie down here with Lhasa for a little while, and maybe it will go away.”

  “Go rest on my sleeping bag.” Their mom turned a box upside down onto the floor. Hand lotion, bug spray, rubbing alcohol, and a stream of other tubes and jars spilled out. “I can’t believe neither of you said anything! Asthma … I never thought….” She shook a corkscrew curl of hair out of her eyes. “I can’t even find my hair ties. Where would that inhaler be?”

  Eliot stood up and crossed the tent to the sleeping area.

  Their mom got to her feet but looked sort of deflated. She kneeled and tore into another box. “Maybe our new neighbors can help.”

  Zoey squirmed. Watching her mom get all frantic was worse than when she was overprotective.

  “I’m going to my tent to read.”

  Eliot pulled the puffy sleeping bag up to his chin. “Which books did you bring, Zo?”

  “Bridge to Terabithia, two Nancy Drews, and The Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. Remember that one? The one I read you where Claudia and her little brother Jamie are just like you and me. Except they didn’t get dragged away for a stupid fishing trip. They ran away and solved a mystery at the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art.”

  Zoey’s mom looked at her sideways. “Right, just like you and Eliot.” She shook her head and held up the jar of honey as though it were a prize. “Well, at least I found this. But where’s the inhaler?”

  “Could you read it again to me, Zo?”

  Even though she wanted to get away, Zoey couldn’t resist. She often read Eliot to sleep. It relaxed her too.

  “I guess so.”

  Zoey went to her tent and came back with the book. She lay down next to Eliot, propped her head on a pillow, and began reading. Almost at once her brother was asleep. Zoey read silently for nearly an hour, then closed the book and stretched. In the story, Claudia had run away. Maybe Zoey could too, even from Bristol Bay. But how?

  She needed a plan. As of today, she would start thinking of one.

  Zoey noticed Eliot’s breathing again. It didn’t sound any better. It was rough, like a rattley old engine, or like something was stuck in his throat.

  “Any luck with the inhaler?” Zoey asked her mom in a soft voice.

  Her mom came and put her hand on Eliot’s forehead. “No, I can’t find it anywhere. He feels really warm. Must be a fever.”

  “He sounds terrible, Mom. What can we do?”

  “We have to do something, and soon. If it gets worse, his throat could swell up and stop him from breathing. He could die.” Zoey’s mom paced the tent.

  “Zoey, I need you to go down the beach and find that boy’s mom, Mrs. Gamble. Tell her your little brother isn’t breathing well and might need a doctor. Ask if she knows where we can get some help. Or an inhaler.”

  Zoey’s mom grabbed the jar of honey. “Here, take this with you.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “We’ve never even met them. It wouldn’t be polite to go empty-handed. Don’t argue with me!”

  Zoey zipped her jacket and stuffed the jar in a pocket.

  “Come on, girl,” she called to Lhasa and hurried down the beach, walking stiffly in the rain gear.

  “These plastic pants make me feel like a sausage,” she muttered to no one.

  Lhasa bounded ahead. Soon Zoey arrived at the little creek and waded across, careful to not let the water go over the tops of her rubber boots. As she climbed the bank on the far side, she realized she had never been this far from their camp before. She remembered the roof she had seen from the airplane while they were landing. Is that where she was going? If so, she figured she had about another ten minutes to walk. She looked several times for the raven with the gray feather, but it did not appear.

  Zoey smelled the Gambles’ camp before she could see it. Smoked salmon. You couldn’t miss that. Then, not too far off, she saw a building. Definitely not a tent. As she got closer, a big husky ran toward them. Lhasa barked and the husky growled and bared its teeth. Zoey froze.

  8

  Colorado Honey

  She didn’t dare go any closer. She knew about huskies. They could be unpredictable. Lhasa stood her ground, and Zoey held her breath.

  “Kenai! Get over here.” The voice came from up near the building.

  Several gulls near the edge of the grass took flight, crying angrily. Just beyond, past a line of seaweed left by the high tide, Zoey saw the boy from the day before. The husky gave a deep bark, turned, and trotted toward him.

  When she got closer, Zoey recognized the building as a Quonset hut. There were lots of them near the military base in Anchorage. It was about the size of a stretched-out, one-car garage. The curved metal ro
of looked like half of one of those big drain pipes that run under highways. The wall facing her had one window and a door. Smoke trickled from a rickety-looking chimney, and off to the side of the hut more smoke came from a tall, skinny shed. A smokehouse.

  The muffled sound of a gas engine, like a lawn mower, came from another shed behind the larger building. A generator. They must have electricity!

  Thomas had moved near the doorway, still holding Kenai by his collar.

  “Don’t worry. He’s just telling your dog who’s boss.” Thomas looked hard at the dog, let go, and opened the door. “Kenai. Go lie down.”

  The husky went inside.

  “Where’s the little guy? Your brother?”

  “That’s why I’m here. He’s sick.”

  “Come on in.” Thomas started into the cabin.

  Zoey looked at her dog. “Stay here, Lhasa. I’ll be right back.”

  Inside, a small woman with dark hair washed dishes in a real sink. Zoey’s eyes widened as she looked around the room. It was a mansion compared to their tent. Another window and door let light in at the far end.

  Thomas’s mother nodded to Zoey. “You flew in yesterday with Patrick?”

  “Yeah, that was us. I’m Zoey.”

  “Carolyn Gamble. Nice to meet you.” She gestured to a small kitchen table. “Sit right here, dear. You want some tea? You’ve met Thomas.”

  The boy nodded and quickly cleared the last two dishes off the table.

  Zoey looked around. Almost a real house. With furniture and even curtains on the windows.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Gamble, but I can’t stay. My little brother, Eliot, is having trouble breathing. He has asthma and Mom can’t find his inhaler. My mom sent me to ask if you know where we can get him to a doctor.”

  Thomas’s mother wiped her hands on a dishtowel and crossed the room to where Zoey stood. “There’s sometimes a doctor at the clinic across the Bay in Naknek. Anyway, they’ll have medicine there. When is Patrick coming back? I heard his plane leave.”

  “Not until late tonight or tomorrow morning, but Eliot can’t wait that long. He’s coughing this raspy cough and Mom says he has a fever. She’s worried he’ll get worse.”