Survival Strategies of the Almost Brave

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by Jen White


  “How long do you have to stay here?”

  “Until I can see the judge.”

  I imagined Dad sleeping in Officer B’s jail cell, and it made me sort of sad to think of him alone. Just like the male killer whale that swims the sea by himself, never to be included in the pod of his whale family.

  “Can you ever forgive me?” he asked.

  I turned to Officer B, who wasn’t even trying to pretend to read the magazine anymore. He watched us like he was watching a movie, his eyebrows raised just a little. I thought of Tattoo Guy, the scars across his arm and leg and what he said about surviving his motorcycle accident.

  He had said, I was pretty lucky that day, and I know it.

  Tattoo Guy was right. Billie and me were lucky too, because we had survived. And still, we had each other.

  Dad waited for my answer.

  I picked up the water bottle from the table. The sun shone through the plastic, casting a rainbow of colors across the floor. “Maybe,” I said. He was, like, my real biological family. His blood ran through my veins. Maybe someday.

  I sort of smiled, and this time I didn’t feel like I was pretending. One thing I knew for sure: it was time for everything to be real.

  I was through with faking it.

  Survival Strategy #52:

  NEW PODS CAN BE GOLDEN

  Julie was at the hospital when I got back with Officer B. She had a gallon Ziploc bag full of Guatemalan candy. “Here,” she said, shoving the bag into my arms. Then she hugged me like she’d never let me go.

  When she finally did, she sat on Pirate Doctor’s couch, swinging her foot a million miles a second. But that didn’t stop Billie from holding her hand the entire time. I sat on a chair a few feet away from her.

  We told her everything, and it was a lot. Sometimes facts can take a while. But I knew it would be even longer if we had to talk about how we felt. And the whole time she just listened, shaking her head every once in a while. She hardly said a word, just wiped tears from her eyes.

  When we finished she pointed to a suitcase in the corner.

  When Billie and me opened it, it felt like Christmas. Things from home! Everything still smelled like our condo, and some things still smelled like Mom.

  When I tried on a pair of shorts and my SeaWorld T-shirt, they were too small.

  Julie asked, “Are you sure those aren’t Billie’s?”

  The shorts really were too small.

  “I can’t believe you’ve grown this much over the summer,” she said, folding them and stacking them into a tidy pile. Julie swore I had grown three inches. But after everything that had happened with Dad, growing taller didn’t seem that big of a deal. If you could pry open my rib cage, I’m sure my heart looked different, too. And heart growth is way more important.

  After Billie and me changed into our clothes, we went back into the lobby. Billie had on her golden smile and she sat right in between Julie and Pirate Doctor. They were still talking about medical missions and how they wanted to go on others. We were going back to San Diego with Julie. But I couldn’t concentrate. When, exactly, did we get to go? And was Julie going to keep us for always?

  In some ways it would be hard to go back without the dream of a dad who could save me tucked into the pages of my notebook. But I guess now I didn’t need saving. I just needed my sister. And a pod. Someone nice and good who could take care of us, because I couldn’t manage everything as well as I thought I could.

  Nurse Doris walked into the room. “Stitches in room one.”

  Pirate Doctor looked up. “Oh, I’m sorry, Doris. You told me that already.” He turned to us. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.” And he bumped into the door frame as he walked out, which made Billie laugh.

  Julie turned to me. “How lucky are we that he was able to help you girls?”

  I nodded.

  “I can’t even begin to comprehend all that has been done for you.”

  And I couldn’t help but think we had done a lot of the helping ourselves, too.

  “It’s my fault,” she said. “I should have never let you girls go. But I had no idea. Your mother told me very little about your dad. She never seemed to want to talk about what had happened between the two of them. She said it was in the past and she didn’t want to think about it.”

  “I don’t want to think about it, either,” said Billie.

  “And when I got the call from the clinic that they needed someone to fill in for the medical mission to Guatemala, I just jumped on it. I called your dad and left him a voice mail, but he never called me back. I’m so, so sorry.”

  And I could tell she was sorry. I didn’t blame her.

  Julie turned to me. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m okay.”

  She looked at me, her eyes all squinty. “Are you really okay? I mean both of you?”

  “Yep.” I brushed the hair out of my eyes.

  Billie nodded.

  “Still, I should’ve called again to check, but I was so busy. I figured you were having a great time. You know, no news is good news…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Not always,” I said.

  “Liberty took care of me,” said Billie.

  “I know she did. She was amazing. You are one amazing girl, Liberty. You remind me of your mom.”

  My heart bumped.

  “Your mom was one of the smartest people I knew.”

  “Are we going to live with you?” interrupted Billie.

  It was the question I was too scared to ask. And right now, I wanted an answer. Facts were always better than guessing.

  “We’ll have to figure that out with the courts, and the judges, and your dad. I have no idea if your dad has family, but you can’t stay with him. Right now, you’ll both stay with me,” she said.

  “Are you going to be our mom now?” Billie asked.

  Julie stared out the window. Finally she said, “I never in my life thought I’d be a mother, but I guess…” She didn’t talk for a minute, then she smiled. “Could you think of me as your youngish aunt? Besides, I could never replace your mom.”

  Julie wasn’t that young. She was even older than Mom. But what she said was true: no one could ever replace our mother.

  Billie whispered, “We can add an aunt to our pod, right?”

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  Billie nodded. “What about Pirate Doctor?”

  “And Tattoo Guy and Roger?” I asked Julie. “Do you think we’ll see them again?”

  She looked like she was thinking hard for a second. Finally she said, “I’d really like to find a way to thank them. I’ll talk to Officer Buck to see what we can do.”

  In life, nothing was ever certain. But I could hope.

  I began, “Maybe we could—”

  Billie interrupted, “I want ice cream.”

  Julie said, “I can probably manage that.” She turned to me. “What were you saying, Liberty?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Well, are you up for some ice cream? I think we have to stay out here for a few days to get things finalized with your custody, and your dad has a hearing. I have a hotel booked. We can take your stuff over as soon as Dr. Martinez discharges you. Then ice cream? I’m sure we can find some out here. How about it, Liberty? Is that what you want to do?”

  No one had asked me what I wanted for a long time. I picked up my notebook and shoved it deep into the suitcase Julie had brought from our condo.

  “Yes, yes, yes. Come on, Liberty,” said Billie, pulling on my arm.

  “Sure,” I said.

  But something felt undone. I had changed so much this summer that now I felt like a brand-new Liberty species. Finally I said, “There is one thing I want to do before we go back to San Diego.”

  “Lay it on me,” said Julie.

  And so I asked. And it sounded both logical and illogical all at the same time, but inside my heart, it felt perfect. Like the two sides of my brain, instinct and logic, could finally a
gree.

  Survival Strategy #53:

  CORNERS CAN BE THE MOST IMPORTANT PIECES

  It existed. The map said it did, but to see it with my own eyes was something else entirely.

  Four Corners Monument, Navajoland, USA.

  A parking lot surrounded it. The marker looked like a gigantic compass buried in the ground, encircled by concrete. It glinted in the desert sun like a hot penny. Its long arms reached out north, south, east, and west, stretching invisible lines across the parched desert floor, making it known that this place existed: four places in one.

  Just like magic.

  A small road had brought us here. Well, the road and the car Julie had driven for seven hours had brought us here. Julie paid a fee and pulled into an almost empty parking lot. She said it would be fun, educational even.

  I took the concrete steps one at a time.

  Four Corners was where we were headed when Dad left us. It seemed to only make sense that if I could reach this destination, to just stand here—four places at the same time—then I knew everything would be all right.

  I walked forward and turned my head to the side so I could read the inscription. Words were placed equally on each quarter of the circle: In freedom here meet four states under God. The flags of Arizona, Utah, Colorado, and New Mexico snapped in the wind. And then, as if the wind gave me super strength, I hopped, landing perfectly in the center of the circle. Four places at once, defying the laws of science. Stubborn in its existence like Billie and me.

  And Dad? I hoped he’d get better, but it didn’t matter so much anymore, because I had Billie.

  I turned, looking for her.

  She was there with Julie, sitting in the shade, unpacking the lunch we had bought at a grocery store, with way too much food because Billie had to have everything. But Julie didn’t care.

  Billie must have said something funny, because Julie laughed as she took a bite of her sandwich.

  “Billie!” I called.

  She waved. So did Julie.

  “I just told Julie the Barbie joke!” yelled Billie.

  And right then, at that exact moment, I just knew. I guess you could say it was instinct, mixed in with a little inspiration. Maybe it was Mom’s soul cells, but I knew we were going to be okay, Billie and me. This place felt almost sacred, like if we stayed here long enough, all of us in our exact places, we might just stay shiny and golden forever.

  I looked up at the sky. Little white sheep clouds.

  Fault lines crisscrossed inside my heart and my head and forged me back together. I was a newer, stronger Liberty. And for now, that was enough.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A book is never written without an endless supply of lovely human beings to help along the way. And so I acknowledge these people for their expertise, love, and support:

  Joy Peskin, editor extraordinaire, who remembered two lost sisters and who loved them from the beginning. Thank you for your editing eye, thoughtful advice, and all-around hoorays for this book and for me. Thank you to the team at Farrar Straus Giroux Books for Young Readers who made this book excellent in every respect. Thank you to my publisher, Simon Boughton, and copy editor, Kate Hurley. Thank you to Elizabeth H. Clark for the most amazing cover. Thank you, thank you, and thank you again.

  Charlotte Sheedy, my wonderful agent, who said yes immediately, and then has ever since cheered and championed this book and me. Thank you. I adore you.

  Thank you to Janessa Ransom and Ann Dee Ellis, the smartest reader/writers I have ever met—as well as some downright awesome people. Thank you for reading this book again, and again, and again.

  And a huge thank-you to the talented faculty, staff, and student body at Vermont College of Fine Arts.

  My classmates Nicole Griffin, Emily Wing Smith, Corrinne Lewis, and my other Whirligigs, thank you. Everyone needs an intelligent posse of writers as a cheering squad.

  My mom and dad, who never said no to books … unless I had unhealthily holed myself up for a day with six or seven, in which case they forced me into the daylight to interact with people. Talking to people is important, too. Your love and unfailing support of everything I choose to do means more than you will ever know.

  Thank you to Pam White for dropping everything at a moment’s notice when I needed you.

  Thank you to my siblings: Kim, Terresa, Jack, and Nick, who have given me an endless supply of sibling stuff to write about. And for being the first friends I have loved and cared for.

  So grateful to SJ, GC, SA, LG, and LM, for giving my heart a place to live.

  And, most importantly, thank you to Adam, who never said no, even when I sounded crazy (which was sometimes a lot).

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jen White holds an MFA in writing for children and young adults from Vermont College of Fine Arts. She lives in San Clemente, California, with her family. Survival Strategies of the Almost Brave is her debut novel. You can sign up for email updates here.

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  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Survival Strategy #1: Fake It

  Survival Strategy #2: Act Normal

  Survival Strategy #3: Blue Skies Do Not Mean Happiness

  Survival Strategy #4: Watch Out for Predators

  Survival Strategy #5: Hibernate

  Survival Strategy #6: Fight or Flight

  Survival Strategy #7: Camouflage

  Survival Strategy #8: Escape, If You Dare

  Survival Strategy #9: Timing Is Everything

  Survival Strategy #10: Beware of Traps

  Survival Strategy #11: Sometimes You Should Feel Sorry for the Cobra

  Survival Strategy #12: Nest and Rest

  Survival Strategy #13: Take It

  Survival Strategy #14: Beware of “Skip to My Lou”

  Survival Strategy #15: Trust Instinct

  Survival Strategy #16: If It’s Good Enough for a Sea Turtle, It Might Be Good Enough for You

  Survival Strategy #17: Acclimate

  Survival Strategy #18: Don’t Get Comfortable

  Survival Strategy #19: Never Answer the Door

  Survival Strategy #20: Panic Is Not Your Friend

  Survival Strategy #21: Be Patient, Like a Snapping Turtle

  Survival Strategy #22: If You Look Hard Enough, You Can Find Almost Normal

  Survival Strategy #23: Blend In

  Survival Strategy #24: Run

  Survival Strategy #25: Hide

  Survival Strategy #26: Use Everyone

  Survival Strategy #27: Never Trust Luke Skywalker

  Survival Strategy #28: Oreos Can Be Dangerous, Too

  Survival Strategy #29: Don’t Be a Hero

  Survival Strategy #30: Go Back to the Beginning

  Survival Strategy #31: Beware of Sharks

  Survival Strategy #32: Dreams Are Dangerous, Too

  Survival Strategy #33: Accidents Happen

  Survival Strategy #34: Don’t Hide, Go Outside

  Survival Strategy #35: Beware of Unexpected Gifts

  Survival Strategy #36: Instinct Can Be Trouble

  Survival Strategy #37: Help Yourself

  Survival Strategy #38: Flee

  Survival Strategy #39: Sometimes They Come Back

  Survival Strategy #40: Sometimes Help Comes from a Tattooed Guy

  Survival Strategy #41: Dr Pepper Can Ruin Everything

  Survival Strategy #42: Eat Food

  Survival Strategy #43: Trust Your Heart

  Survival Strategy #44: Know Who to Trust

  Survival Strategy #45: Beware of Prisoners

 
Survival Strategy #46: Bargaining Is Best

  Survival Strategy #47: Beware of Fault Lines

  Survival Strategy #48: Rescue Yourself

  Survival Strategy #49: Make Your Own Pod

  Survival Strategy #50: If You Can, Be Brave

  Survival Strategy #51: Face It

  Survival Strategy #52: New Pods Can Be Golden

  Survival Strategy #53: Corners Can Be the Most Important Pieces

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Farrar Straus Giroux Books for Young Readers

  175 Fifth Avenue, New York 10010

  Copyright © 2015 by Jen White

  All rights reserved

  First hardcover edition, 2015

  eBook edition, May 2015

  macteenbooks.com

  eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected].

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

  White, Jen.

  Survival strategies of the almost brave / Jen White.

  pages cm

  Summary: Soon after their mother’s sudden death in San Diego, Liberty, twelve, and Billie, eight, are abandoned at an Arizona gas station by the father they barely know and Liberty must find a way to keep them together and safe until either Dad returns or they can contact Julie, their mother’s best friend.

  ISBN 978-0-374-30084-5 (hardback)

  ISBN 978-0-374-30085-2 (e-book)

  [1. Abandoned children—Fiction. 2. Sisters—Fiction. 3. Single-parent families—Fiction. 4. Fathers and daughters—Fiction. 5. Survival—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.1.W445Sur 2015

  [Fic]—dc23

  2014040665

  eISBN 9780374300852

 

 

 


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