“Hey!” Andrew called out behind me.
The girl turned back, saw Andrew and Ruth, and glared at me, a warning clear in her eyes. But what warning? Haze filled my mind, as though I’d woken from a deep sleep. Broken bits of our conversation ricocheted off one another, making less sense the more I thought about them.
“What did she say to you?” Andrew put his hand on my shoulder. “Sadie?”
I realized I was cradling my arm, staring down at the muddy stains the girl’s fingers had left behind. The girl had almost disappeared into the trees.
“We have to follow her,” I said.
Our snowshoes made it almost impossible to run, but we stumbled forward as fast as we could, managing to keep the girl in sight, though just barely. When we stepped through the thick bushes into a clearing, Andrew held out his hand to stop us. A wooden shack slumped in the distance. Smoke rose from a metal pipe stuck at an angle in the roof.
We leapt behind the bushes as the shack door swung open, and a man in a flannel shirt, orange hunting vest, and knee-high boots stepped out into the snow. Behind him, a woman stood, concern clear on her face. She cradled a baby against her shoulder.
“Where’ve you been?” the man asked. “You left for the outhouse fifteen minutes ago.”
The baby whimpered, and the woman stepped back as the man laid his arm protectively across the little girl’s shoulders and led her inside. He closed the door, rattling the shotgun that leaned up against the cabin steps.
Chapter 3
Shut Out
“That’s Old Man Mueller’s shack,” Andrew whispered. “Well, it’s the shack he squats in during the summer. But I’ve never seen those people before. I’m sure Old Man Mueller doesn’t have family. The shack isn’t really his, but no one stops him from staying there. The company that owns this land gave up on ever selling it and basically ignores the old man.”
Ruth bit her lip. “A baby shouldn’t be out in the forest like this. She’ll freeze.”
Andrew brushed snowflakes off his jacket. “Let’s head out. We’re too exposed here.”
As we circled around toward the research cabin, I thought about the girl, my promise, and Patch. Patch had been in danger even before she went into hibernation. After she had nuzzled Jim Paulson’s hand last September, he decided she was dangerous. At the community meeting people from the area defended the bears, but Jim wouldn’t listen. To him, Patch was a problem only a gun could fix.
Andrew and I had thought until a few weeks ago that hibernation would protect Patch. We were sitting in our favorite pair of cushy chairs behind the bookshelves at Black Bear Java. Jim and Mack had come in, talking loudly, not knowing we were there.
“How could you possibly find that bear’s den?”
Hearing Mack’s voice, I caught Andrew’s eye, and we both grew still, listening.
Jim said, “Helen’s boy said it denned on that empty plot of land, the one that’s been for sale for ages, out past the research cabin. Remember? At the trial? Two coffees, black please.”
The cash register dinged and change rattled as the two men paid for their coffee. I shrank down in my chair, even though I knew they couldn’t see me through the solid bookshelf.
Mack continued. “That plot is over a hundred acres. You’re gonna find a bear den on a hundred acres? It’s not worth it, Jim.”
Jim made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a growl. “That bear charged me. What’ll it take for people to see the danger — a kid getting attacked walking home from school?”
“Hey, I’m not arguing. The bear needs to go. But why not wait until spring?”
“With Helen breathing down our necks, fall will be here before we clear the red tape. Meanwhile, a dangerous bear is on the loose.”
Chimes rang as they walked out of the shop.
“Patch.” Andrew had whispered, his face drained of color. “I shouldn’t have … ….”
I cut him off, forcing my voice to be steady. “She’ll be okay. We’ll take care of her.”
Now the forest was so quiet, I could almost hear the snow falling. Instead of making me feel calmer, the stillness amplified the worries inside my head. The family in Old Man Mueller’s shack, so close to Patch. And the little girl, with her ungloved hands and her intense eyes, making me promise.
I hurried to catch up with Andrew. “I don’t think we should tell anyone about that family.”
“You never told us what she said.” Andrew rubbed the red tip of his nose with his glove.
I swallowed hard. Even telling Ruth and Andrew felt like breaking my promise. The girl’s dad hadn’t seemed cruel, but his shotgun and hunting vest made me fear the girl’s threat. “She said if I told anyone her family lives out here, she’d tell her dad the bears were near.”
“So she might have seen the den?” Andrew started hiking again, his steps jerky and tense. “How could we be so careless? Why are they living out here? What are we going to do?”
“You should have seen her eyes, Andrew,” I said. “If anyone asks about her family, she will bring her dad as close to the den as possible, I know she will. What will happen to Patch then?”
Andrew kept walking, but Ruth stopped and caught my arm. “Sadie …” As soon as I saw her pained expression, I heard my own words echo back to me. We shouldn’t tell. These very words had led to a blow-out fight with Ruth less than a month ago, both because of the secret I asked Ruth to keep and the secret she kept from me. And it wasn’t just Ruth. I had kept other secrets, wanting to handle problems without asking for help. Hadn’t I learned anything at all?
Still, even though I knew Ruth was right, hot anger rose into my throat. “So what do you suggest, Ruth? We should tell? And leave Patch to fend for herself against that guy?”
“I didn’t say …” Ruth began.
I turned away from her, not wanting the discussion to spiral into a fight. Andrew was far ahead, anyway, so I walked fast, pretending I only wanted to close the gap.
When I fell in step with Andrew, he said, “If we tell Mom about this, she’ll take it all on herself. Whenever anything is serious, she entirely closes me out. I hate being treated like situations are too dangerous for me.”
Andrew’s reasons for hiding the truth matched mine: protecting his mom, protecting Patch, and not being treated like a kid. Still, over the past few months, secrets had proven to be ticking bombs. Hide them today, and tomorrow or the day after they’d blow up in your face.
“No matter what we do,” I said slowly, hating my words even as I said them, “that little girl knows too much. We need your mom’s help, Andrew. If we don’t tell and that man …”
During hunting season, Helen’s favorite bear, Humphrey, had been shot. Dad and Helen had pulled the bear out of the bushes because she had to see the truth for herself. Even though Dad had avoided almost all of the details in his retelling, whenever I worried about Patch or one of the other bears, the scene flashed to mind as clear as if I had seen it myself. Humphrey sliding across the dirt, limp, lifeless. Instead of Helen bursting into tears, I was the one sobbing.
“I know,” Andrew said as Ruth came up behind us.
She must have seen the apology in my eyes, because she smiled a small, sad smile.
When we unbuckled our snowshoes, Higgins jumped all over me, slowing down the process. I didn’t mind, hoping Andrew would tell his mom before I finished. The whole thing — my promise, the little girl, the danger to Patch, the worry I knew Helen would feel — made Thanksgiving dinner turn to lead in my stomach. I walked inside, and the smell of pumpkin pie and turkey took my breath away, reminding me of how happy I had been just a few hours ago.
Ruth’s family packed up to leave, but Ruth hung back to listen as we spoke with Helen.
“Sadie, you should probably explain,” Andrew said.
So much for Andrew getting the worst over with. “Umm …” I glanced over at Ruth, and then sighed. No matter how much I wished for one, no easy way to tell the storyappeared. So
I just told Helen what had happened, about the girl, her threat, and her family.
“I’ll call Meredith over at the DNR and see if she’ll hike out there with me tomorrow,” Helen said. “If they’re squatting, we may be able to remove them from the cabin.”
“Isn’t that up to the land company?” Andrew asked. “Like when Old Man Mueller stays out there?”
“What if they don’t have any place else to live?” I surprised myself with my question. After the girl had threatened me, why did I care? “And what if the girl tells about Patch’s den?”
“We’ll figure it out.” Helen shook her head and opened the file folder she held, turning back to Dad. “So, if I identify sows that might accept orphaned cubs and save the government thousands of dollars a year, then they won’t turn down my research grant, right? If I’m saving them that kind of money?”
Ruth gave me a quick hug before running out to join her family, and I watched Helen talk to Dad. I couldn’t look at Andrew. Just as he’d predicted, we had been shut out. Worse, somehow my explanation hadn’t worked. How could Helen simply say, we’ll figure it out, and go back to her other conversation? Didn’t she understand about the shotgun and the little girl who might, even now, be showing Patch’s den to her dad?
Choosing the right area of research was important, I knew, because every two years, Helen had to reapply for the grant that allowed her to research with the bears. This year, because the hunters were so mad, the DNR would be even more likely to turn down Helen’s proposal. If she didn’t renew the grant, she and Andrew would move out of the cabin by June, and Dad’s job would be over then, too. Still, none of those problems felt as important as protecting Patch, right now in danger.
I finally looked over at Andrew, who clanked pots and pans too loudly as he scrubbed them in the sink. His lips were pressed together just like before when I teased him about his room. He kept his eyes down, not meeting mine. I wanted to grab the washcloth from his hands, fling it in his face, and shout that none of this was my fault. Instead, I joined Mom in the mudroom, barely holding in my frustration.
Mom handed me my scarf. “Thank goodness none of you kids were hurt. That family could have been dangerous.”
They were dangerous. Didn’t anyone understand?
“Hand me my boots, will you, Sades?” Mom sat on the bench and took off the house slippers Helen kept for visitors.
I passed her boots over and watched her lace them up, barely able to hold back the words I wanted to shout at everyone. Mom tied her last knot, stood, and pulled me into a puffy-coated hug. Her arms were strong, and through her coat, I couldn’t feel her too thin shoulders. If I closed my eyes, this could almost be a hug from the past, back when Mom was truly herself. Why couldn’t today have gone the way I planned and ended with this almost perfect hug?
“I love you, Sades,” Mom said, and then let me go and pulled on her hat.
I shoved my feet into my boots as Dad came into the mudroom with Helen and Andrew. Higgins bounced along behind.
“I’ll hike to the shack with you and Meredith tomorrow,” Dad said to Helen. “I planned to drive Sadie out here anyway, so she can help finish with the promised clean up.”
Miserable. After the worst ever Thanksgiving, now I would be forced to endure another day with Andrew in his current mood. Unhappiness kept me from looking at anyone as we said goodbye. I pulled Higgins into my lap and buried my nose in his fur so I wouldn’t have to talk to my parents on the way home. Telling a secret before it blew up in my face was almost as difficult as waiting for the explosion.
Chapter 4
The List
I wrote Dad in purple pen across my clean sheet of printer paper and underlined his name in green. Amy Grant Christmas music played, Mom’s favorite. The music reminded me of being three and four, decorating the tree, making cookies, squishing sand-dough into random shapes that I called a monkey or a snowman, which embarrassingly still hung on the tree every year. Christmas season had officially begun.
“Wish you were here, Pips.” Homesickness panged sharp and sudden, and I realized just how much I missed Pips and my friends back in California. As long as I had known Pips, we had sat up into the late, late night on Thanksgiving, dreaming up our Christmas lists together.
The first time, when we were six, Pippa’s parents had invited my family over for Thanksgiving dinner. All through the meal, Pips and I begged for a sleepover. My parents hesitated, remembering how homesick I had been on my last sleepover, so homesick they’d had to drive over in the middle of the night to bring me home. But I promised I wanted to stay, even when Mom looked me in the eye at the door and said, “Are you sure, Sadie?”
Pips and I had charged up the stairs to her room, and she let me wear her Strawberry Shortcake pajamas, which like everything Strawberry Shortcake had that magical strawberry smell. Or maybe that was just Pips’ whole room, overflowing with Strawberry Shortcake characters, cars, houses, puff-stickers, and smelly pens.
Pips, in her pink striped flannel PJ’s, climbed up onto her bed with those smelly pens and a spiral notebook. “Come up, Sadie.” She patted the bed beside her. “Let’s make a Christmas list. Not for us. Presents we’ll give people. Okay?”
We made a list of gifts, complete with trip to Australia to see the kangaroos for her mom, and helicopter-car for my dad. Just like every other game of pretend that we played, we slipped entirely into the world of anything-was-possible and spun our elaborate plans.
After our pages were covered with red and green smelly swirls, we pushed the markers off the bed onto the floor, snuggled under the covers, and closed our eyes.
I couldn’t sleep. Maybe because I was homesick, but mostly because that list, lying on the table next to me, had me worried. Helicopter cars didn’t exist, and if they did, I obviously couldn’t buy one.
“Sadie?” Pips whispered, her voice small and sad. “I can’t really send my mom to Australia. I want to give my parents presents this year. Real presents. Not just something you make in school.”
All my own worry faded. I had to help Pips. I sat up, fumbled for the lamp switch, and gathered the markers and the notebook.
“Then we’ll give them real presents,” I said, even though I had no idea how to do so.
I turned to a fresh page, and we brainstormed presents our parents could use. A calendar with pictures on each page. Stationary sets for our moms, with their names written in bright colors at the top of each page and on the envelope flaps. And my favorite idea, keychains made from metal nuts and washers strung on thick plastic laning.
With our lists finally done, we switched off the light and fell asleep almost before our heads hit the pillows. Even when Pips and I could buy presents with our allowance, we insisted on meaningful presents for everyone. No generic mugs full of candy from us.
On my updated list, Dad’s name waited with nothing underneath. I wrote the names of my family and friends. Pips had asked for a drawing, back when I was taking art lessons. Maybe I could give her a drawing for Christmas. I opened the new sketchbook I hadn’t been able to draw in since I’d stopped art lessons. I didn’t know what to draw. Now I drew without thinking, tracing eyes, a mouth, a nose. My pencil stopped when I saw what I had drawn. The girl in the forest.
I ripped the page out and threw it in the trash. Without an assignment, my fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, and I didn’t want to see what they would show me next. I needed a really good drawing assignment. Something to keep me from having to think. I powered on my computer and opened my email.
Chapter 5
Swirls and Dots
“Sades, phone for you.” Dad tossed me the cordless phone. “And hurry up. I’m meeting Helen and Meredith at nine o-clock at the research cabin to hike out to the shack. We’re late.”
I held the phone to my ear. “Hello?” Andrew sounded like he was shouting from the bottom of a cave.
“What?” Since I woke up, nervous thoughts about Andrew had built up like static elec
tricity. Why was he calling now?
His voice came into focus. “Sorry, speaker phone. Look Sadie, I need the day off.”
The static sparked, sharp and quick, like a shock when you touch metal. I tried to keep my voice level. “Dad’s in a hurry. Can we talk when I get there?”
“No, I … I need to work on stuff.” He sounded rushed, not at all like himself.
“I know. That’s what we’re doing, cleaning the cabin.” I had dressed in my oldest jeans and a hoodie with holes in the sleeves.
Dad had already pulled on his coat. “Sades, come on.”
I pressed the phone between my shoulder and my ear and shoved my other arm into my coat. “Andrew, I need to go. I’ll see you in a minute.” I could deal with a little weirdness from him, especially since he would be at the cabin when Dad, Helen, and Meredith returned from their hike. After yesterday and what Helen said, listening in on conversations was probably the only way Andrew and I would get an update on the family in the wood.
“No, Sadie. Listen. You can’t come today.”
I stopped, letting my coat dangle off my shoulder. His words felt like a slap across the cheek. I couldn’t come?
“Sadie—” Andrew said.
Weirdness was one thing, but going to the cabin after Andrew told me I couldn’t was impossible. How could I face him now and act anything like normal?
I forced my voice to be light and said, “Sure. No problem. I need to …” I grasped for something, anything I needed to do. “… go to the library anyway.”
“Sadie—” Dad said.
I hung up before Andrew wasted breath on a fake apology.
“Sadie?” Dad tossed me my boots. “Time to go.”
I ran upstairs to grab my sketchbook. The library? Now I had to go, because otherwise I’d sit around home, acting as though I had no life unless I was with Andrew.
The entire drive to town, Dad lectured me about planning ahead for trips to the library and grumbled about being late for the hike with Meredith. His words were background noise compared to the mental tirade I carried on with Andrew. I couldn’t come out to the cabin? After he had forced me to explain what happened in the woods, now he blamed me for Helen’s reaction? Okay, everything’s probably fine, but what’s he hiding in his room anyway?
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