After a while Zoey stopped and asked, “Can I try your knife?”
“I don’t know. A knife is like a dog. They know their owners and no one else is really safe around them.”
“Oh, come on. Captain said you’re supposed to help me.”
Thomas handed her the knife, handle first. Zoey bent down and made the start of a line near the letters.
Midnight landed on the rail, bounced twice as always, and flew a few yards away.
“It’s so cool that we have a pet raven!” Eliot jumped up and down, waving his arms to the beat of the music. “Kraak, kraak!”
“You know, Eliot,” said Zoey, “ravens say a lot more than just ‘kraak, kraak.’ A guy who does bird research came to our school and said ravens make more sounds than any other bird in Alaska. And they use tools. Like sticks and stuff to help them get food.”
But Eliot was busy trying to get the bird to come closer. Zoey went back to her carving. Thomas watched. The song on the boom box ended and a slow one started.
“You sure hold a knife funny. Good thing you don’t operate on people.” He smiled and put his hand over hers. “Remember to slice, not scrape. You want a sharp line.” Zoey tried to follow his directions, but she was distracted by his hand, and she could feel his breath on her neck. Her stomach flipped. He let go of her hand and Zoey turned and looked at him. Those coffee-colored eyes. There was always something like a question in the way he looked at her. What was he looking for? Or was he asking her something?
Thomas took a step back. “Where did you guys learn to dance like that?”
“My mom taught modern dance classes back in Colorado.” Zoey breathed in and changed position so she could carve a swirl above the top of the S. “She sang with us a lot too, and I used to love it when she danced with Eliot and me. In the winter we would play this game called ‘Movie.’ We turned on the lights in the living room so the big window would show our reflection. It made us feel like we were on a movie screen. We would make up stories, and Dad would always put on the same music, called ‘Scheherazade.’ Mom had a dancing dress that was pink and silky. I had a pretty dress, too, with yellow lace around the collar and a full skirt that twirled around. Sometimes Eliot would wear Mom’s scarf as a turban.”
She stopped carving and laughed.
“Dad was the audience. He would clap at the end and yell, ‘Bravo, Bravo, Encore!’”
Zoey bent her head and concentrated hard. She began to turn her line upward into a stem that she could top with a flower.
“My family never did anything like that. At school once we had to folk dance. They make you stand in a square and follow directions that don’t make any sense. My mom took us to play Bingo a lot.”
“Did your dad come?” asked Zoey.
“No way. He was too busy.” Thomas slapped at a mosquito. “He was always fixing stuff, either for us or sometimes for other people.”
They were quiet a minute, both intent on Zoey’s carving.
“When Patrick moved in with us, the movie game changed. At first he just watched. One day, he got up and danced with my mom, hugging her and stuff. It was stupid after that, so I quit doing it, and pretty soon Mom stopped too. It made me mad. I told Mom Patrick didn’t belong there, but she just said, ‘Oh, Zoey, give him a chance.’”
“He doesn’t seem so bad. At least he’s around.”
The boom box was silent. The tape had run out.
22
A Not So Happy Birthday
The smell of baking met Zoey and Eliot as they approached the tent later that afternoon. Thomas had gone back to his place and promised he would see them soon with his mom and Harold. The wind had returned. It’s chilly dampness promised rain. Zoey hoped the weather would hold long enough for Patrick to get back from Dillingham with the latest mail.
As they pushed through the entry flap, they heard the familiar airplane noise overhead and their mom’s voice, “It’s about time. Go, both of you, and get washed up. Thomas’s family will be here any minute.”
When Zoey finished washing, her mom gave her some balloons to blow up. She and Eliot had just finished the last of them when they heard the Gambles.
“Knock, knock,” a woman’s voice floated through the tent flap.
Zoey greeted Carolyn, Thomas, and Harold. They shooed Kenai and Lhasa outside and all sat on the driftwood rounds that circled the makeshift table. Harold produced a six-pack of Coke, and Carolyn gave Zoey’s mom the promised ice cream.
Harold roughed Eliot’s hair. “Hey, make a muscle. Whoa! He’s going to be a mean fish hauler.” He turned to Zoey. “And your sister’s gonna be up to a full crew share in a year or two if she keeps it up. What do you say, Carolyn?”
“Well, I’ve noticed Thomas seems to work harder when she’s around.” She winked.
“That’s our Zoey.” Patrick entered the tent carrying grocery bags.
“Did you check the post office?” Zoey asked immediately.
“Oh, yeah.” Patrick handed Zoey a big envelope and a smaller one.
She smiled as she took them, but the smile froze. She stared at her nana and papa’s return address, and then at Bethany’s.
“That’s it?” she said.
“If you were expecting something from the Queen of England, it must have been delayed,” said Patrick with a grin.
Zoey turned away. “Well, what is it?” asked her mom as she hung the balloons from a string over the center of the tent.
Zoey opened the card, and a twenty-dollar bill drifted to the floor. “Nana and Papa.”
She opened Bethany’s. A long letter with “Happy Birthday” written all around the margins.
“I’ll read this later.”
Harold lifted his glass. “Three cheers for the birthday girl. Hip hip hooray!” Everyone lifted glasses but Zoey. Her cheeks burned, and tears welled up in her eyes. She forced them away.
Her dad had said, “You’ll always be my little girl.” Well, she wasn’t so little anymore, and she would be all grown-up by the time he noticed. Maybe he had a whole new family by now. Maybe he just didn’t have time for her.
Everyone joined Zoey’s mom singing “Happy Birthday” as she put something that was pretty definitely a cake on the table. “Happy Bday!!!” was written on top in raspberry jam. Zoey closed her eyes tight and made the same wish she had made a year ago and just about every week since. She opened her eyes, blew the thirteen little flames out in one breath, and they dug in.
It was their first real dessert since leaving Anchorage. Each gooey bite should have tasted like heaven, but Zoey had to swallow hard to get it down. Everyone ooohed and aaaahed over the ice cream. Harold said what they really needed was some akutaq—Eskimo “ice cream.” Harold pronounced the word “a-goo-duk,” and said it was made with berries, whipped fat like Crisco or seal oil, and fish! He swore it was delicious. Eliot’s eyes got wide at the suggestion, but Carolyn said they would save it for another time.
Zoey sucked the cold, smooth strawberry ice cream off her spoon. It helped the cake go down but it didn’t change how she was feeling. This wasn’t how she thought her thirteenth birthday would be, with all these strange people, no friends, no dad.
Back home, Bethany would have spent the night. They would have made popcorn and rented a movie. Instead, she was stuck in Bristol Bay with the rain, the bugs, the bears, the slimy fish, and these people she hardly knew.
Patrick tossed something on her lap. A Frisbee.
“Maybe you can teach that raven to play ‘Fetch the Frisbee’—or Lhasa, anyway.”
“Thanks.” She ran her hands over the bright red saucer.
Her mom set a box down in front of her. The wrapping was decorated with fat, orange butterflies.
“I hope it fits.”
Zoey carefully unwrapped the package and pulled out a pink, hooded sweatshirt. She held it up so everyone could see the design. It said “Alaskan Summer” and had a beautiful, leaping salmon above the words. The fish looked a lot like t
he one Thomas had carved on their boat.
“Patrick and I found it in Dillingham. Hope you like it.”
Zoey’s eyes filled up again. This is getting to be a habit, she thought. Her mom gave her a big hug. “Happy Birthday, Zoey.”
Zoey pulled the sweatshirt over her head. It was a little long, but it fit. Carolyn reached in her pocket and took out a small, folded bundle. She put it on the table next to Zoey.
Inside was a soft knit hat with a border of purple and lavender fireweed flowers. Zoey marveled at the tiny stitches.
“You made this? It’s so beautiful. I didn’t even know you could do this.”
“Oh yeah. Been crocheting since I was your age. I can show you sometime if you want.”
“One more,” said Zoey’s mom, and she plunked a small, gold box on her lap. It glittered. Zoey took the lid off and inside was a silver necklace with a bright red stone!
“That’s a real ruby for my real grown-up teenager,” explained Zoey’s mom. “It’s your birthstone.”
Zoey lifted it out and held it up. She had never had a necklace with a real gemstone. Her mom helped her fasten it around her neck.
Eliot grabbed the Frisbee from Zoey and threw it to Thomas. It just missed Carolyn’s head.
“Outside with that,” said Zoey’s mom.
Eliot and Thomas quickly exited. Zoey, wearing her new sweatshirt, necklace and hat, thanked everyone and followed the boys.
“Don’t be gone long.”
Outside, Zoey took a deep breath. She could taste the coming rain, and the light streaming around the edges of the dark sky had a strange green tint, as if something nasty was hiding behind the clouds. She let Thomas and Eliot run ahead. A few drops splashed her face. What a crazy birthday! Nothing from her dad, but she loved Carolyn’s hat, and the ruby necklace. She reached up and touched the jewel.
The waves crashed louder than usual into the sand and sent sheets of water far up the beach. Thomas threw the Frisbee at Eliot, who ran around the edges of the spent waves as they soaked into the sand. He grabbed the disc and tossed it back in Thomas’s general direction.
Lhasa and Kenai zoomed after the Frisbee. Thomas ran after the dogs. He wrestled the disc away from Kenai, turned, and threw it to Zoey. She jumped for it but missed. Thomas laughed and let the dogs get it this time. He walked over to Zoey and held something out to her. A shell—heavy and as big as her hand, different from any others on the beach.
“Happy Birthday.”
She took the shell and turned it over in her hands. Both sides were perfectly intact. Dark pink ridges lined the outside, each ending with a small hole the size of her little fingernail. Inside were streaks and swirls of shimmery deep blue and coral on a silvery-gray background.
“It’s abalone,” Thomas said. “The carvers like to use it for decoration. We don’t find them around here. Captain traded one of his knives for some. He gave this one to me after I cut his firewood.”
Zoey had seen pictures of Alaska Native masks with the same flashing shells shaped into eyes, teeth, and other features.
“Thank you, Thomas. It’s beautiful.” She slipped it carefully into the pocket of her sweatshirt and looked up at him.
Somewhere inside her Zoey felt something slip, and, like the rain, she couldn’t hold back anymore. Everyone had been so nice to her. Why did she feel so hopeless? Before she could think, she pulled a handful of her sweatshirt to her eyes and sobbed into it. Thomas put a hand on her shoulder, warm and sturdy.
Embarrassed, Zoey pulled away. “Sorry.” She wiped her runny nose and cheeks on her sleeve. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”
“Me neither. Seems like you had a pretty nice party. What’s up?” His face was inches from hers.
He was so nice and here she was acting so ungrateful.
Thomas wrapped his arms around Zoey and held her. Hot tears escaped down her face and dripped onto his jacket.
“Come on, why so sad? I know you probably feel stuck out here and you would rather be with your friends in Anchorage, but I wish you wouldn’t be sad.” She turned her head aside, but didn’t move away.
“I just thought … well, I thought for sure there would be a card from Dad for my birthday. I just don’t get it.”
Zoey let out another choked sob.
“It’s just I haven’t heard from him at all since we left Colorado. That was a year ago.”
Now Thomas backed up a little and separated himself from Zoey. He looked at the sky, then into her eyes. “Zoey, you gotta try and get over it. If he wants to find you, he will. If he doesn’t, he doesn’t. You can’t control what he does.”
She pulled away from Thomas just as Eliot tossed him the Frisbee. It smacked her in the back of the head. Hard.
Even Thomas doesn’t understand! Nobody does!
She grabbed the Frisbee and threw it as far as she could. It sailed down the beach, away from them until she could hardly see it anymore. She wished she could float on the wind like that. Not caring and never coming down.
“I wish everyone would just stop telling me to get over it!” Zoey shouted. “I’m not going to get over my dad. It’s not something you get over. It’s something you fix!”
With that, she took off running full speed back toward the tents.
“I hate it here, I hate it here, I hate it here,” she chanted all the way.
When she reached their little tent, she threw off her rain gear, zipped down the tent flaps, and thrust herself deep into her icy sleeping bag. She pressed her head into her pillow. She wanted to drown in the softness. Rain rattled the tent and soon the din blocked out everything else. Zoey rolled over and grabbed her stationery.
July 7
Dad!
How could you miss my 13th birthday? Don’t you even care about me anymore? You were always my friend. Even when mom was mad at me, you stood up for me. HOW COULD YOU just disappear! You know two can play that game. Some day you will want to find me and you won’t, because I just won’t be there.
I’m not your girl anymore. I’m a teenager, no thanks to you.
Good-bye for good,
Zoey
She read the letter over, then crumpled it up, and threw it to the far end of the tent.
23
Payday
Bristol Bay is a big machine that churns out salmon, but it’s pretty good at churning out rain, too. The clouds dumped water on their campsite all night and into the next day. Foggy mist sagged low over the tundra. It was as though the sky knew how Zoey felt.
And more than the weather had changed since yesterday’s bright morning. One good thing was that the run picked up, and the Gambles’ setnet once again bulged with thrashing fish. Patrick was back to flying 1,500-pound loads of fish into Dillingham a couple of times a day.
But for the next week Zoey and Thomas hardly spoke to each other while they worked, and Zoey avoided the old fishing boat. She sometimes disappeared into her tent and wouldn’t let Eliot in. She worked on her carving, but she didn’t want anyone to see it. She still hoped for a card or present from her dad, but every time Patrick flew to Dillingham there was nothing. Maybe it just got delayed in the mail.
One extra foggy afternoon, Carolyn called to Zoey and Eliot as they were about to leave the fish camp at the end of the workday.
“I have something for you two. Hold on.” She disappeared inside and returned with her purse. She counted out four fifty-dollar bills and five twenty-dollar bills and handed them to Zoey. Three hundred dollars! Then she gave Eliot two twenty-dollar bills.
“We never really decided what your pay would be,” she said. “But you two have been a big help to us. You earned this. There will be more in another week or two.”
“Wow,” Zoey said. She couldn’t believe it. “Thanks a lot, Carolyn.”
“Yeah, nice!” said Eliot.
“You deserve it. And you deserve a day off tomorrow. Harold and Thomas can cover things. See you in a couple of days.”
She clos
ed the door, and Zoey and Eliot headed toward their campsite.
“What are you going to do with yours?” Zoey asked Eliot.
“My bike at home is too small. When we get back to Anchorage, maybe I could get a new one. How about you?”
“I’m not sure. I have to think about it.” But inside Zoey knew exactly what she was going to do. If her dad wouldn’t come to her or even write her back, she would go find him. She would get some answers one way or another. The first thing was to find his new address.
Zoey noticed a salmon leap out of the water. She scanned the surface for something else.
“Hey, Eliot, do you think we’ll see belugas while we’re here?” They continued walking.
Eliot picked up a flat stone and tried to skip it across the water. “Maybe they just come at night or something.”
“I really want to see them before we go back to Anchorage,” said Zoey.
When they entered the tent, Eliot waved his money in the air. “Look, it’s payday!”
“You’re rich, Eliot. Better put it somewhere safe.” His mom stirred the seafood chowder, and the sweetness of butter, onion, and potatoes filled the tent.
“When we came out here, I never pictured you two with jobs. Not bad, huh?” She put the pot in the middle of the table and asked Zoey to set out bowls and spoons.
“Sometimes yes, and sometimes no,” muttered Zoey.
“I like my job,” said Eliot, joining her.
“Hey, Patrick, did you hear we got the day off tomorrow?” Eliot asked between slurps of chowder.
Patrick chuckled. “Actually, I asked Carolyn for that because I thought you might like a change of scenery. If the weather is halfway decent tomorrow I have a little plan that involves a trip to town.”
Zoey thought to herself, if we’re going to a town, I have a little plan of my own. Time to find out how much a plane ticket costs.
Bristol Bay Summer Page 12