Soon there’s another cabin, and yet another.
I want to kiss the ground. We made it.
Fort Yukon looks much like it did five years ago. The settlement sits on the banks of the Yukon River, but the surrounding area is called the Yukon Flats. My brothers and I avoid being seen by walking through the trees above town. We pass through a grove of birch, the bark papery white and only a few of the brilliant yellow leaves hanging on. The snow falls right through the branches. But on the far side of town I find a cluster of spruce. Their branches form a thatched roof, catching the falling snow, leaving a cozy nest of dry spruce needles on the ground beneath them. I settle the boys and Zhòh in the spruce fort.
“I’m going into town. Do not leave this spot, even for a second. Do you hear me? I need you to do exactly as I say.”
“What about Dad?” Seth asks. “He’ll be in town by now. He might see you.”
“That’s why I’m going alone. Three of us would draw attention. But I can sneak around on my own.”
“What will you do in town?”
“Find a phone and call Aunt Frances.” I don’t tell them that I don’t even have her phone number.
Seth nods and cuddles Zhòh. But Keith announces, “I think I should go.”
“No.”
“But—”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes with food.”
That’s the magic word. Keith mumbles, “Okay.”
I push my hair up under my fleece hat, pull it down to my brow, and set out.
The town lies between our fort and the river. So wherever Dad has tied up the rowboat will be on the other side of the buildings and streets. Where would he go first? Maybe to the police to report us missing? He might not have thought about the raft because it’s been out of sight from the cabin for over a year. He’ll probably think we’re on foot, that we’re still in the wilderness. He won’t be looking for us in town.
Entering on a side street, I keep close to the buildings and try to walk like a boy, the whole time watching out for Dad. When I spot a pizza shop, all other plans fly from my mind.
The guy who works behind the counter doesn’t look up from his phone as he asks for my order. The smell of hot baking dough, tangy tomato sauce, and luscious melted cheese almost causes me to pass out.
“A pepperoni pizza, please.”
“What size?”
“Extra-large.”
He puts in earbuds and keeps talking on his phone while he makes our pizza. A few minutes later, I have in my hands a big box wafting delicious aromas. I pay the guy and rush back to the hiding place.
As I duck into our fort and flip up the cardboard top of the pizza box, Keith gulps and Seth sucks in his breath. They both grab slices, long strings of cheese stretching from the box to their mouths as they bite into the pizza. Keith shouts, “Good!” and tomato sauce squirts out the side of his mouth. Zhòh licks the splat off his boot. I take my own piece and close my eyes. It’s just the way I remember it, with gooey cheese, zesty pepperoni, and a chewy crust.
It’s our happiest time since leaving the cabin. The snow falls thickly now, weighting the branches over our heads, but we’re warm and dry. The boys agree that pizza is the best food they’ve ever eaten. Zhòh enjoys his slice, too. I tell them again that New York is filled with pizza shops.
New York! Seeing the pizza shop made me forget all about calling Aunt Frances. It’s just as well. Night might be a better time for sneaking around town. I’ll go back in a couple of hours, under the cover of darkness. The stormy weather will help hide me, too.
We unfurl our sleeping bags in the nest of spruce needles and get in together. The boughs are just inches from our faces, and I breathe in the wintergreen scent. It feels so good to be safe and warm, with a hot meal in our bellies. I fall asleep and don’t wake up until morning.
Crawling on my hands and knees out of our fort, I find Keith standing a few yards away, hands on his hips. Snow covers the ground but the sky has cleared.
“I’m going into town to find Dad,” he says.
“Let me call Aunt Frances first.”
“I want to talk to him.” Keith scowls, looking out at the horizon. I do understand what he’s feeling. The pull to Dad, to everything we’ve ever known, is so strong.
“But then what?” I ask.
He scowls harder.
“I’ll tell you what. Back to the cabin. We’ll never go to school. I’ll never have a best friend.”
“I don’t want to go to school. You don’t need a best friend. You have us.”
“I’m asking you to do this for me. To wait. To let me call Aunt Frances. Please, Keith. For me. If after I call Aunt Frances, you want to go back with Dad to the cabin, well…” I can’t quite let myself finish that sentence. I can’t let Keith go back. So I say, “I’ll get us another pizza.”
“Pizza!” Seth calls out.
Keith hesitates but finally says, “Okay. We’ll stay here. Just until you call Aunt Frances.”
I leave him standing there, staring out over the tops of the trees, scanning the horizon, and hope he stays put.
I don’t know how to disguise myself any better, so I decide to use speed to avoid being spotted. I run the whole way into town where I find out that the pizza shop doesn’t open until noon. But there’s a grocery store. A man sits behind the cash register, and next to him on a tall stool is a bright-eyed girl with black hair pulled back into a ponytail, and two dimples on either side of her smile. I pick out a package of donuts and a carton of milk and set them on the counter.
“Anything else?” the man asks.
I shake my head and keep my eyes down.
“That’s not a healthy breakfast,” the girl says. “The milk is good for you, but you shouldn’t eat doughnuts for breakfast. Even on a Saturday.”
Saturday. How funny to think about the days of the week. That’s why this girl isn’t at school, I guess.
The man laughs and says, “Amelia, mind your business.”
As he hands me my change, he says, “Visiting?”
“Yes,” I say. “My family and I are going hiking.” It’s sort of true.
“Pretty late in the season for a hiking trip,” he says. “Freeze-up any day now.”
“My dad is super-experienced.” Also true.
A loud crash in the back of the store draws their attention away from me.
“Susie? You okay?” the man calls out, and then hurries over to the accident.
“Dad’s new employee,” the girl says cheerfully. “This is the third time she’s broken stuff.”
A phone sits on the counter right in front of me. I could ask the man to help me find Aunt Frances’s number. But he’s already asked too many questions, almost like he’s suspicious. I don’t know if Dad has put out the word about us around town yet. But even if he hasn’t, when the man overhears my phone conversation, if I’m even able to reach Aunt Frances, he’ll for sure turn us over to the authorities. For now, it’s best to go back to the hiding place, and fast. I run out of the store. As I jog down a side street to keep out of sight, I hear footsteps following me.
“Hi!” the girl calls out. “Where are you going hiking?”
Amelia’s wearing high-top sneakers, blue jeans, and a red sweatshirt on top of a gray one, but no parka, despite the cold. A big smile warms her face.
“Go away.” I feel mortified for speaking so sharply. I’m almost growling.
She holds her hands in the air and says, “Sorry. Just curious, is all.”
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“Where are your parents? Are you camping?”
This girl looks so lighthearted and clean, so full of inquisitiveness and vigor. Her family has a grocery store, and she gets to hang out there with her dad. She probably has a mom, too. She has an entire town to call her own. I don’t want to
lie to her.
Clutching my doughnuts and carton of milk, I run. By the time I reach our tree fort, I’m breathing hard and crying, too. I throw the doughnuts at Keith and drop the carton of milk next to Seth. They open the packages and, seeing how upset I am, try to give me a doughnut and a drink of milk. I shake my head and tell them to eat.
“Hello? Hellooo.” I recognize the girl’s voice, but can’t see her because we’re hidden under the tree boughs.
“Don’t shoot!” she calls out, laughing. “Okay, I admit it, I followed you.”
“Who is that?” Seth whispers.
“My name is Amelia,” she says.
I feel ridiculous hiding, so I scoot out from under the spruce boughs and stand facing her.
“I don’t think you’re on a hiking trip,” she says. “Who are you?”
“That’s none of your business,” Keith says, ducking out of the fort. Seth comes out, too.
“I need to call New York,” I blurt. “Do you know how I can do that?”
“New York?”
“Our aunt is there,” Seth says.
She squints. “What are your names?”
I push the boys in back of me. “We’re not saying.”
Amelia’s smile fades. She twirls her ponytail between her thumb and two fingers.
“Don’t tell your father,” I say.
“But—”
“Please.”
She works her mouth back and forth, and then fixes her gaze on Zhòh. “Where’d you get the wolf pup?”
“I tamed him,” Seth says.
She nods, still twirling her ponytail. “Wait here, okay? I have an idea.”
“I need you to promise that you won’t breathe a word to any adults about us.”
She frowns, but nods, and sets off at a run.
Fifteen minutes later, Amelia returns. She pulls three peanut butter sandwiches from a paper bag and hands them out to us.
“Healthy breakfast,” she says.
The boys snatch the sandwiches and start scarfing them down.
“So look what else I have.” She takes a phone out of her pocket. “It’s my mom’s. I sort of borrowed it. I have to get it back soon, before she starts looking for it. What’s your aunt’s number?”
“I don’t know the number,” I whisper.
“Hm. We can try directory assistance. Here, I’ll do it. What’s your aunt’s name?”
“Aunt Frances,” Seth says.
“Yeah,” Keith says.
Amelia rolls her eyes and gives me a conspiratorial smile about the silliness of little brothers.
“Frances Moore,” I say.
“There might be a few of them in New York,” Amelia says, tapping on the front of the phone. Holding the phone to her ear and speaking in an adult-like voice, she says, “May I please have the number for Frances Moore?” She covers the phone with her hand and says, “She has two in Brooklyn and three in Manhattan.”
“New York,” Seth says.
“They’re parts of New York City,” Amelia explains.
“Manhattan?”
“Manhattan,” she says into the phone. She listens for a moment, and asks me, “Does she have a middle initial?”
My hopes sink. How would I know?
All at once, a memory pops into my head: Mama and Aunt Frances are bent over laughing in our Seattle kitchen. “Chloe Maude!” Mama shrieks her own name. “Frances Zelda!” Aunt Frances calls out hers. “Why did they give us such old-fashioned names?”
“Z!” I shout.
“Her middle name is Zhòh?” Seth asks, and then laughs.
“Hush,” I tell him.
“Z,” Amelia tells the operator, and her eyes light up as she says, “Thank you.” She hands me the phone. “The operator is connecting you.”
As I hold the phone to my ear, my heart pounds so hard I think it might knock me down. I haven’t figured out what to say. I’m almost glad when a recorded message says that she is out right now and that callers can leave a message. I’m so nervous, I drop the phone.
Amelia picks it up. “What happened? Voicemail?”
“It was her recorded message.”
Amelia nods. “We could leave a message—”
“But Aunt Frances would call back and your mom would know you took her phone.”
“Well, yes, but—” Amelia looks at the phone as she talks.
“No,” I say. Amelia’s parents would call the authorities, who would turn us over to Dad. “You promised not to tell your parents.”
“Okay. I’ll come back later today and we can try again. I have to go now. Dad’s on the Tribal Council. He has a meeting at ten. Of course Mom has to watch the store, so I have to watch my little brothers.” She grins. “I have three.”
Amelia takes off at a run.
EIGHTEEN
“WILL ZHÒH LIKE New York?” Seth asks.
“I don’t think I’ll go to New York,” Keith says. “I’m staying in Alaska.”
“I don’t think he will like it,” Seth says, petting his wolf. “The food is unhealthy.”
“Yeah, besides, there aren’t any trees.”
Here they go again, quoting Dad. I try to distract them with stories of how fun New York will be and how kind Aunt Frances is. I’m winging it, pretty much making things up as they come into my head, while we wait for Amelia.
The sun has reached its zenith and already started to shift westward when I hear the rustling of boots moving through leaves. Next I hear the low, sonorous tones of a man’s voice.
Dad.
Zhòh raises his nose and sniffs the air.
I put my hand on the trunk of the spruce tree and feel its dry, scaly bark. A long drip of sap, the tree’s blood, runs down next to my hand. The spruce’s roots spread out into the earth. Its branches stretch high into the sky. How can a living thing be both rooted, stuck in one place, and reach for something entirely new at the same time?
I come out of our fort, bracing for Dad’s wrath.
But the man who steps into our spruce grove isn’t Dad. It’s the grocery store man, along with a pretty woman and Amelia, who calls out, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
“Hi, kids,” the woman says.
“Howdy.” The grocery store man smiles. “Wow, you’re right, Amelia. They do have a wolf pup.”
Zhòh runs in circles, as if unsure about whether he needs to protect us from these new intruders.
“I’m sorry for telling,” Amelia says. “But Mom and Dad are really nice and they left the store with Susie—the one who knocked over that display when you were there?—and so they don’t have much time but they really wanted to meet you. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”
The man puts a hand on Amelia’s shoulder to quiet her tumble of words.
The woman has three plastic mugs and a thermos. She puts the mugs on the ground and pours out hot tea. She hands us each a steaming drink.
Keith slurps down the hot tea. I tell him to say thank you, but he doesn’t. Seth cradles his mug and blows on the surface to cool it. I can barely hold on to mine, I’m so overwhelmed by my expectation of seeing Dad and the surprise of these people.
“Let’s have a chat,” the grocery store man says. Most of the snow has melted, but he sits right in the damp forest leaves. The woman sits, too.
“Are you the one who had a Tribal Council meeting?” Seth asks.
“Yes, little man, I did. And I’m thinking—”
“Fort Yukon is home to the Gwichyaa Gwich’in people,” Seth interrupts. “Is that you?”
The man throws back his head and laughs at Seth’s excited questioning. “That’s us.”
“It means ‘people of the flats,’ ” Seth says, as if Amelia’s family doesn’t already know this.
The man smiles warmly
and says, “You’re a well-informed young fellow, aren’t you?”
“Robert Slone-Taylor told me. He has a Gwich’in dictionary. It was written by Clarence Alexander and his wife, Virginia. He was chief from 1980 to 1994.”
“A fine man.”
“You know him?”
The man laughs again. “Fort Yukon is a small place and Clarence is a big man. He’s my mentor and hero, actually.”
Seth is practically glowing with excitement. “Robert Slone-Taylor told me he founded the Yukon River Inter-Tribal Watershed Council. They’re working on making sure the rivers all stay clean. And in 2011, President Barack Obama gave him the Presidential Citizens Medal. Did you get a medal, too?”
Still chuckling, the man shakes his head. “Listen. Why don’t we have our own Tribal Council meeting. Have a seat.” As we all sit in a circle, the man winks at Keith, who is looking skeptical. “I’m Amelia’s dad. Stanley Johnson. You can call me Stanley. This is her mom, Constance. Amelia did the right thing and told us about you kids.”
“I wanted to bring my brothers, too,” Amelia says. “So you could meet them. But we left them with our neighbor. They’re too little to understand.”
“We know your father,” Amelia’s mom says. “He comes to town every year for supplies.” Stanley and Constance exchange a look, one that hides a secret, something they’re not saying.
“He stayed in town extra days this summer,” I say, guessing the secret.
“Yes,” Constance says.
“Do you know where he is now?” I ask.
“He arrived yesterday,” Amelia says. I can tell she wants to be the one telling the story, but her mom puts a hand on her knee to shush her.
Stanley says, “He thought you kids would still be much closer to your cabin, nowhere near Fort Yukon yet. A search team left this morning, flying along the route they thought you’d have taken.”
“They didn’t find us,” Seth says.
“Nope,” Stanley says.
“How’d you get here so fast?” Amelia asks.
“We rafted,” Keith tells her.
“Wow,” she says. Again, her mom taps her knee so Stanley can go on.
“So when Amelia told us your whereabouts, we decided to tell your dad that you’re safe, but not where you are. We thought we’d have a chat with you first.”
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