by Jodi Kendall
My brother was a natural in front of the camera!
“You’re a hero!” she gasped. Tom flashed my parents an I told you so! look. “How do you feel about the pig’s destiny now?” she continued. “It must be so difficult for you . . .”
“Hamlet leaving is hard on all of us,” said Tom. “But you know, it’s really my little sister, Josie, who’s been affected the most—”
“Ahh, yes! Josie Shilling! Let’s hear your thoughts on the matter.” Evette Waters pointed the microphone toward Sarah.
“I’m Sarah,” my sister said, motioning to me. “That’s Josie.”
I squinted under the camera light. Everyone stared at me. I felt Hamlet tense beneath my hand, and I stroked her back to calm her down.
“And there’s the pig! Look at the two of them now,” she said warmly, “Let’s zoom in on this, Eddie—”
This was it—Hamlet’s moment to show the world how special she is. But to do so, I’d have to walk by Grimson and his man. What if they just grabbed her and took off?
I glanced at Dad. A reassuring smile passed over his lips. “Go on, Josie,” he said.
I breathed deeply and exhaled.
It was go time.
Hamlet and I walked down the hall, her hooves clip-clopping on the wood floors. Evette smiled at me, and by the twinkle in her eyes, I knew she wasn’t just here for the story—it was because she cared.
“It’s okay, Hamlet,” I said, scratching her behind her ears right at her favorite spot. Then I looked into the video camera lens and said, “We’ve got something to show you.”
I brushed past Mr. Grimson and his sidekick, leading the group down the front stoop, where a small crowd had gathered on the sidewalk, curious about the big truck and television crew van in front of our townhouse. I noticed orange cones blocked off the street, and Officers Brady and Chou were rerouting cars to the next block over.
I looked down the block, and Sully, Carlos, Fernanda, and Lucy stood on the twins’ stoop next door. They all had big smiles plastered on their faces, and when I met Lucy’s eyes, she gave me two thumbs-up.
Ignoring the camera crew focused on us, I leaned down and gave Hamlet a big hug around the neck. “You know I think you’re the best pig in the whole wide world. You don’t need to prove anything to me,” I whispered in her twitching ear. “But there’s a whole lot of people needing to see it to believe it, so here’s your time to shine.” She oinked softly back, and it felt like an understanding of some kind.
Amelia waited patiently about ten steps out, a bright yellow Frisbee tucked under her arm. “Ready?” I asked her. She nodded and handed off the Frisbee to Lou. I loosened my grip on Hamlet’s collar.
“Ready!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. “Set! GO!”
Lou released the Frisbee. It soared through the air into a high arch. Amelia sprinted down the block, past the Three Stoops, around the standing crowd, and suddenly Hamlet took off after her, galloping to keep up.
“Oooooo!” I heard a passerby call out. “There’s a pig!”
“GET IT, HAMMIE!” Amelia shouted as the Frisbee began to descend. The pig catapulted on her hind legs, jumping high into the air and catching the yellow disc in her mouth, before landing gracefully back on her hooves.
“Awesome!” Tom shouted from behind me.
Amelia did a fist pump in the air. The Three Stoops crew cheered, and Sarah whistled. I pulled half an ear of corn out of my pocket—the grilled one Mom had made the night before—and Hamlet came trotting right back to me, dropping the Frisbee and chomping down on the corncob.
“That was amazing,” Evette breathed. “You got all that, Eddie?” The cameraman nodded, a big grin on his face. Even Mr. Grimson looked slightly amused.
Hamlet was a star!
“What else can your pig do?” the reporter asked.
“Open the fridge!” said Amelia, skipping up the front steps.
“Jump a fence,” added Dad, who winked at me.
“Use the litter box,” said Mom.
“Climb a bunk bed ladder,” I added, to which Ellen and Sarah snapped their heads to my attention and exclaimed, “What?” in unison.
“Amazing. A pig that does tricks!” Evette adjusted her tortoiseshell glasses and faced me again, her expression turning somber. “Josie, how do you feel about giving your pig away today?”
“Well, we aren’t really giving her to Mr. Grimson,” I said. “We didn’t know about it until recently, but there’s a livestock law in the city, which means you can’t have farm animals living within the city limits. For a long time, I wanted to keep Hamlet here, with us, but . . .” I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. “I’ve realized that the law is in place for a reason. Hamlet deserves a long and happy life at a farm, where she can roam freely and have animal friends. That’s all I want for her now.”
“Ah, yes—Hamlet!” Evette clapped her hands together. “What a brilliant name.”
“My idea!” chimed in Tom.
“If you’re just tuning in, the website to learn more about this city pig is flashing across the screen at this very moment, and use hashtag #SaveTheCityPig to share your thoughts with us online now!”
“What is this website?” Mom asked, raising an eyebrow.
“The Unlikely Story of a Pig in the City dot com!” Evette cried. “The video of this sweet city pig and her story has gone completely viral.”
I grinned. The Three Stoops gang came through after all!
“Viral, huh?” Tom’s face lit up.
“Now, Josie,” Evette said, swinging the microphone in front of my face, “what are your hopes for the family pig?”
“Hamlet’s part of our family now,” I said, motioning toward my parents, my brother, and three sisters, who grinned back at me. Ellen gave me a thumbs-up. “We just want her to be happy.”
“Oh, would you look at that.” Evette reached for my hand, and suddenly we were walking toward Hamlet’s Cave together. “Eddie, get this, get this. The Shillings built a web, just like in Charlotte’s Web. Well, I never . . . Isn’t that sweetest thing? Josie, come here, come here, tell me about this—What does that word say? In the web?”
“Heart.”
“Ahh, yes. Heart.” Evette nodded. “What a beautiful word. Tell us about that, will you?”
“There are so many words to describe Hamlet, and what she means to me . . . ” I reached over and swept back the fine hairs on her neck with my palm. Hamlet rubbed her snout against my T-shirt, making me laugh. “She’s smart and fun, and sweet and curious. But what I love most about Hamlet is her heart. She’s got so much love to give. I just want everyone to know that.”
“How touching. And Reggie Grimson . . . You, sir. What are your intentions with adopting the pig?” Evette moved toward him, sticking the microphone right by his mouth, leaving him no choice but to answer.
“I’m not adopting the pig.” Grimson’s lips twitched. “It will join the rest of my stock. Now if you’ll excuse me, we need to—” He grabbed the chain leash from his employee and started toward Hamlet.
“No!” I cried, pulling Hamlet close.
“Not so fast,” said Mom, a spark in her voice. “You said Hamlet was going to rustle behind cattle on your farm—that your daughter would be in charge of caring for her.”
“You’re a pig thief,” I said, wrapping my arm protectively around Hamlet’s neck. “See Mom? Dad? I told you. He’s not going to keep her for a pet. It was all a lie.”
“He’s a robber!” cried Amelia.
“He’s a hamburglar!” yelled Tom, fist pumping in the background.
“Listen, I don’t want any trouble,” Grimson said. He knelt down to talk to me, the way grown-ups do sometimes when they really want you to listen. “Look at the size of this pig, kid. You think it’s a pet? Oh, no, this isn’t some domesticated potbellied pig breed on your hands. You’ve been hoarding a massive Tamworth in the city! That’s a prime bacon pig. Now. We’re both reasonable people here. On the phone, your pa
rents said I was doing you a big favor. You’re breaking the law aren’t you, trying to keep this pig? You don’t want to break the law, do you?” Grimson pulled out his money clip, peeling off three crisp hundred-dollar bills. He stuffed them into my palm and curled my fingers over them. “Here. Take the money. That’s well over market rate for a Tamworth sow. It’s time to let the pig go and move on.”
I looked down at the money in my hand. This was a lot of cash—money that could pay for gymnastics next year. But there wasn’t a dollar amount on my love for Hamlet, and I knew that deep in my bones. I glanced at my parents. Mom nodded reassuringly and Dad’s lips pressed into a tight smile, and I knew they were both on my side.
“I’m sorry for your trouble, Mr. Grimson, but the deal’s off,” I said, tucking the crumpled bills into Grimson’s shirt pocket. “Hamlet’s staying. You can go.”
I heard Evette Waters gasp, pushing the foam-covered microphone a little closer to Grimson. He stared at Hamlet for another moment. Then he looked around at each member of my family, then the television crew, and down at Hamlet. He sighed loudly and finally walked off toward the truck.
“And there you have it, folks,” Evette said into the camera, relief sweeping over her face. “Live from the Northeast side, Evette Waters here asking you to consider pet adoption! If you or someone you know wants a wonderful pet pig”—the camera zoomed in on Hamlet’s face, and the reporter wrapped her arms around her neck—“call this hotline number on your screen now and visit the Unlikely Story of a Pig in the City dot com! Not a moment to lose, or the pig will be snatched up by animal control tomorrow. Let’s save this pig from Hog Heaven together!”
As if on cue, Hamlet licked Evette’s cheek. The video camera’s red light shut off, and Evette and her cameraman gave their final good wishes before racing out the door to cover a traffic collision a few blocks away.
We all stood there in awe of what just happened.
Did Grimson really just leave?
Is Hamlet actually staying?
And were we just on television?!
I reached into my pocket and gave Hamlet the other half of her corncob. She munched it loudly in the hallway as Mom crouched down at the front doorstep, picking up today’s issue of City Centennial off the welcome mat.
“Josie, did you see this?” Mom said, handing it to me.
I shook my head, taking the paper in my hands. A black-and-white photo of Hamlet was on the front page, just above a lead article with the headline: CITY PIG FACED WITH HOG HEAVEN.
“They printed the story,” I said in disbelief. I looked up at Ellen, and she was grinning from ear to ear.
“Must’ve been a slow news day,” deadpanned Sarah.
“This is amazing!” Mom said, taking the paper back from me and unfolding it.
“I want to read the article!” said Amelia, reaching for the paper.
“You know how to read?” joked Tom, and Amelia gave him a playful shove.
“And I can Google.”
“No one’s Googling anything,” Dad said with a smile. “Unless it’s Hamlet’s website. Is the library open today? We need the internet.”
“Ahhh, music to my ears, Dad,” Tom said.
Sarah smirked. “So, about that . . . I might’ve hacked into Mrs. Taglioni’s Wi-Fi next door.”
“Sarah!” Mom scolded.
Dad gave me a hug. “I’m proud of you, Josie,” he said. “You did the right thing, turning down Mr. Grimson’s money. It wouldn’t have been right to let Hamlet go with him. I understand that now.”
“They even mentioned how Hamlet is litter box trained!” Mom said proudly, skimming the front page article. “We’ll have to frame this.” She carefully folded the newspaper back up and motioned to the massive, colorful web in the stairwell of the house. “Josie, I still can’t believe you did all of this!”
“We all did it,” I said. “We’re a team.”
Hamlet brushed against my jeans, looking for a back rub. I knelt down beside her and stared into her eyes. “You’re some pig,” I whispered to her. “The best pig ever.”
I was still scared, but for once, I felt at peace, too. I’d done everything in my power to save Hamlet’s life. Now I just had to wait and see if my plan worked.
Then I looked at my family. “Do you think anyone will learn Hamlet’s story and want to adopt her? Before tomorrow’s Deadline Day?”
“I’m not sure, Josie,” said Dad, sweeping a hand through his graying hair. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”
We didn’t have to wait for long.
The house phone began to ring.
Chapter 31
NEW YEAR’S EVE
It seemed like everyone in the world wanted Hamlet.
Okay. Maybe not everyone, but all the right people, and that’s what mattered.
Turns out, the hotline number flashing on the screen during the news broadcast rerouted phone calls to our house line. All in all, eight people rang us that day wanting to adopt Hamlet, and Lucy received sixteen emails from the website contact form.
Sixteen!
Gathered around the speakerphone, we got to ask each family questions about where they lived and what Hamlet’s new life would be like, and why they were interested in adopting her. Everyone seemed really nice. They didn’t make me feel ridiculous when I mentioned that Hamlet’s favorite foods were made with corn, or how she loves belly rubs, and that I swear she can read your mind sometimes just by looking into your eyes.
We were on the phone for hours it seemed. My throat was sore from talking so much, and my brain was tired from thinking through all the options. But my heart felt full.
It was late into the evening, just as we were gathered around the family table for fondue with carrots, apples, and sourdough bread, that the final call came through. A call that I would never have expected in a million, trillion years.
The call that changed everything.
His voice had a familiar quality to it, even though I’d never met him before. He was kind and knowledgeable about pigs—even the Tamworth kind, which is what Mr. Grimson said she was—and very familiar with Hamlet’s story.
It felt right.
No. Not just right.
Perfect.
Later that night, my family was sprawled out in the living room and we talked over the options. It smelled like a movie theater in the house, all buttered popcorn and root beer. Deciding on Hamlet’s new family had to be unanimous. Hamlet was special to all of us, and we each got a say in the matter. Tom and Ellen even canceled their New Year’s Eve plans so we could all be together tonight to figure things out.
But in the end, it wasn’t a hard decision. Like Sully told me once, sometimes the answer is closer to home than you might think.
After watching The Sound of Music and before the New Year’s Countdown specials on television began, Dad said he had an announcement.
“Are we getting a new car?” Amelia guessed.
Tom kicked his feet up on the ottoman. “If you get a new car now that I’m out of the house, I might cry.”
“No one’s crying. And we’re not getting cable,” Dad said, laughing. “And the van has another twenty thousand miles in it, I think.” He moved to stand in front of the room. “Well . . . here goes. I got a new job.”
We all gasped.
“Were you fired?” I asked, feeling my cheeks blaze with heat. “Does this have to do with Hamlet and the dinner with your boss?”
Dad shook his head. “No, Josie. This has been a long time coming and has nothing to do with Hamlet. After eight years with the same company, I was ready for a new challenge and a different employer. I start on Tuesday!”
“Wow, Dad, congrats!” said Tom.
Sarah’s face suddenly drained of color. “We’re not moving, are we? I’m a junior, guys. We can’t move right before my senior year—”
“No, we’re not moving,” said Dad, smiling. “We’re happy here.” Then he looked around the room. “Aren’t we?�
�� We all nodded. It might be hard being a big family living in a small city townhouse, but this was our home.
“Does this mean no Handmade Christmas next year?” asked Amelia.
“We’ll figure that out when the time comes.”
“Cuz it was fun . . . and I really like my telephone.”
Mom ruffled her hair. “That warms my heart, Millie.”
I snapped my fingers. “I get it now! That’s why you’ve been at the library so much lately and having all those phone calls and late meetings. You’ve been interviewing!”
“I had to brush up my résumé. And I didn’t want to say anything until a position was finalized,” Dad said, and then he cleared his throat. “Listen, kids. I know it’s been a tough few months for all of us. I just want to thank you for hanging in there and let you know that things are going to get better, okay?”
“I’m proud of you, Dad,” said Ellen. “Congrats!” Tom gave Dad an air high five, and the rest of us clapped. Dad looked a little embarrassed, but he smiled all the same.
“And . . . there’s something else . . . drumroll please . . .” Mom pounded on the coffee table with her palms, and Dad laughed. Another surprise? I sat upright. “We’re getting internet!”
“HOORAY!” Ellen cheered, and Amelia jumped up on the sofa in happiness.
“Guys, I just moved out—you’re killing me!” said Tom, splatting his face with his palm.
“Good timing, because Mrs. Taglioni changed her Wi-Fi password, and I wasn’t sure when it’d be appropriate to ask her for the new one,” said Sarah with a sly grin.
“Does this mean I can get Facebook now?” asked Amelia.
“No,” said Mom and Dad in unison.
I snuggled up with Hamlet and Sugar in front of the fireplace and laughed while my brother tried to teach Ellen how to swing dance, something he’d learned at a football fund-raiser event. Sarah flipped through Young Rider magazine, reading an article on Shetland ponies and tearing out the horse posters inside for Amelia, while my Dad sipped hot chocolate and my Mom set out Tom’s championship football trophy on the mantel.
