by Jenny Goebel
He turned to face me with his brows already furrowed. I’m not sure I’d ever been so nervous. I’d have felt more comfortable staring down a roiling ocean wave, a terrifying descent into a canyon, or even another wildfire. Confronting my father was a fear rating ten, for sure.
“Dad, I don’t want to leave,” I finally choked out.
“Get in the truck, Amelia Jean,” Dad said through clenched teeth.
The rest of my words caught in my throat. Heart pounding, I second-guessed myself. I didn’t feel brave. Then I reminded myself that being brave isn’t necessarily something you are or you aren’t. I could choose to act bravely, no matter how afraid I felt.
It didn’t come naturally to me like it did for the rest of my family. But I had managed to choose bravery before. And if I didn’t choose it now, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.
“No,” I squeaked out. “No. You always say you want us to live our best lives, Dad. My best life isn’t always setting off for new places. I like having adventures. At least, I do sometimes …” I said. “But maybe we can all find what we’re looking for right here. Why can’t we pack our bags for adventure, but always have a place to come home to? A place here in Winterland.”
Mom, David, and Neil were watching the showdown in silence. Their eyes bounced back and forth from my face to Dad’s.
“There’s literally nothing left for us here, Amelia,” Dad said. He didn’t sound angry as much as exasperated. “Everything we have is in that truck. All we have to do is load up and go.”
“That’s not true. Not for me,” I said, thinking of the ranch and Cat and all the people who’d gathered in the heart of Winterland today to show us we belonged here. “I have a fence to repair, and I have … friends.”
“What about school?” Dad asked. “Is staying worth repeating sixth grade?”
I asked my heart the same question, and the answer was yes. “If I have to,” I said. “It’s not what I want. And I don’t think it’s right. I know I can handle middle school,” I said without a shred of doubt. “But if that’s that only way we can stay here then, yes, I’ll go back to elementary school.” I wasn’t so worried about fitting in anymore. I thought I could be comfortable just about anywhere as long as it was in Winterland.
My answer seemed to give Dad pause. It wasn’t what he’d been expecting to hear.
I felt emboldened by Dad’s hesitation. I turned to David. “What about you?” I asked. I badly wanted to stay, but if I was the only one, I didn’t want the rest of my family to give up their dreams just for me. “Do you want to leave?”
Dad shifted his gaze to David, and my brother’s eyes shot to the pavement. He breathed waveringly through his nose. David had stood by me so many times, helping me overcome my fears. I didn’t want to make him choose sides, but I thought he should have a say in something this important. I knew what his answer would’ve been before Annie went missing. Now I wasn’t sure. “It’s okay,” I whispered encouragingly. “I just want to know.”
David lifted his chin and shook his head. “No. I don’t want to leave, either,” he said. Then he moved by my side.
Dad gritted his teeth.
“And you two?” Dad asked Mom and Neil.
“Hey, I’m happy wherever,” Neil said. “I like traveling, but high school isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. And it seems like we’ve only scratched the surface of fun things to do around here. My only request is for a larger kitchen, wherever we end up.”
Mom searched everyone’s faces before speaking. “A garden would be nice, too,” she said. “And I’m not sure, but I think I might want to start practicing law again. Not corporate, but maybe at a small firm. I think I could help … people.” Mom was never one to lay down all her cards, but I suspected she was thinking about Ryan’s case. And, as meanly as he’d treated me, he still deserved someone who would fight for him. Everyone did.
Dad grabbed his head in his hands. “I can’t believe this.”
“You always tell me not to run from my fears,” I said. “But that’s exactly what you’re doing, Dad. You’re scared of staying in one place because you were so unhappy before. Things might be different here. Please. Just give it a shot. For me? For us?”
Dad removed the hands covering his face. He studied me, Mom, and my brothers. He inhaled deeply. He exhaled. Then he said, “Okay.”
“Okay?!” I squealed.
“Yes!” David said, then slapped me five.
Mom and Neil smiled.
But Dad. Dad looked defeated and sad. My heart broke a little for him. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?” I asked.
Dad nodded slowly, then swept us all up in a giant hug. “According to Tolkien, ‘The greatest adventure is what lies ahead.’ The four of you are my greatest adventure. My future. My best life. My everything. If Winterland is where you want to be, then in Winterland we’ll stay.” Dad cleared his throat. “And I think we’re holding up our welcome party, Amundsens. Come on. Let’s go thank everyone.”
Dad seemed uncomfortable when he apologized to Dan. His cheeks were pink-tinged, and the hair around his face was matted with sweat. Still, I think he was touched that strangers were willing to do so much to help our family. By the end of the morning, Dad had relaxed some. His smile transformed from strained to genuine to flabbergasted when the locals presented Mom and him with enough money for us to pay first and last month’s rent on a house in Winterland. Dan even knew of a vacancy not far from Rachel’s ranch—one with a large kitchen and a small garden.
There were so many people—kids from school, Mom and Dad’s coworkers, Neil and David’s friends from their climbing club—who kept vying for our attention.
Finally, Rachel made her way up to me. “Every last alpaca is happy, healthy, and safe, thanks to you,” she said.
“It wasn’t just me,” I answered, embarrassed by the praise.
“But we couldn’t have done it without you,” she said. “Julie and I were talking, and we think you should have the honor of naming Sky’s cria.”
“Really?” I asked.
“You bet.”
“I … I don’t know what to name it,” I stammered. Sugar Plum? Serendipity? Frodo? My mind flooded with options.
Rachel laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ve still got plenty of time. The baby won’t make an appearance for another ten months or so.”
How long would we stay? I glanced at my dad, who’d been listening in, and he shrugged. At least he didn’t shake his head.
Ten months at least, then? We had time. Here in one spot. Time to spend with friends—furry and non-furry alike. Time to watch the seasons change. It felt like such a gift.
Before I could find Cat and ask if she wanted to ride the carousel with me, Neil came running up with a poster in his hand. “Look! Look! You have to see this!”
The poster said FOUND DOG. But it wasn’t one of the ones with the awful photo of a blurry red mutt that my brothers and I had placed discreetly around town. The dog in this picture was front and center, and unmistakably Annie. This poster had been hung by someone legitimately trying to locate the owners of a lost dog.
“Can we call the number?” David begged. “Please?”
“Well …” Dad hedged. “I mean, what’s a home without a dog?”
A home, I thought to myself. My chest expanded with relief and I smiled. It had taken all my courage to convince Dad, but the Amundsen family had finally found a place to call home. A home, and a dog.
Cat handed me the hammer. While we got ready to replace the next section of fence, Samson stood by, watching us with his big, dark, and inquisitive eyes. Then he kicked his heels up and sprang away.
“He’s so adorable. I can hardly stand it,” Cat said.
I chuckled. “I know, right?”
She helped me lift the rail and hold it in position while I nailed it in place.
“Thanks for your help today,” I said.
“Are you kidding? Rachel’s ranch is awesome. Anytime you need help, j
ust let me know.”
I was glad she was here. For more reasons than one. The fence repair needed to be finished before a change in weather prevented it. Plus, I enjoyed having my cousin around. We’d been nearly inseparable since my family decided to stay. In fact, she’d helped convince my parents that I belonged with her in seventh grade.
After they learned from Rachel how seriously I’d taken my job, and about how hard I’d been working on the fence repair, and also how I’d kept it together during the fire and saved Samson and Sky, I think my parents were leaning toward having another meeting with Principal Stinger anyway. “Amelia has grown far more responsible in the past few weeks than the school is giving her credit for,” I overheard Dad say to Mom the night we moved into our rental. It was weird having so much space and separation—I had my own room—and I’d crept down the hall because it was dark and I wasn’t used to being alone.
“You’re right,” Mom said. “I don’t know if it’s necessary for her to go back to sixth grade now. She seems to be managing her life better than some adults I know.” I crawled back to bed then and slept peacefully through the night.
Then we invited Cat and her grandmother over for dinner, and Cat told my parents all about our literature circle and how the group enjoyed me telling them about our most harrowing adventures with the great outdoors. That pretty much cinched the deal.
Mom offered to handle things with Ms. Horton for me. But I wanted to take care of it myself. The look on the attendance secretary’s face was priceless when I walked through the front door. And when I announced that I would be staying at Winterland Middle, she spilled her entire jar of multicolored gel pens.
I drew my thoughts back to the present and soaked in everything around me. Cat, Samson, Sky’s slightly more swollen belly, the pastures full of other alpacas. Even with the blackened trees and charred grasses on the edge of Rachel’s property, it all seemed too good to be true.
It had been over a month since the fire. I’d fully adjusted to the structure and demands of middle school. The air was crisper, the sun was less intense—almost muted somehow—and the days were growing shorter. The mountainside had veins of gold where the aspen leaves were changing color, and patches of ashen gray where the trees had been ravished by flames. Already there was frost on the ground when I walked to the bus stop in the mornings. The first snowfall was right around the corner.
Cat handed me the last new rail. I hefted it in place and hammered it onto the fence. “There. It’s done,” I said, feeling a swell of pride and accomplishment before asking, “Are you willing to help me on the slopes, too?”
Dad said it was up to me whether I participated in the Ski a Black Diamond Challenge once the ski resort opened. It surprised me to realize I wanted to. That is, I wanted to at least give skiing or maybe snowboarding a try. I would go easy on myself if it didn’t work out, though.
“Of course!” Cat brightened. “You’ll love it. There’s nothing like zipping down the side of a mountain in winter. It’s … it’s the best!”
I wasn’t convinced I’d love it as much as she did. Still, as I listened to Cat enthusiastically recite everything she revered about snowboarding, I thought how amazing it was to live in a world where people could chase their dreams and follow their passions. Where my brothers could climb mountains, and Cat could race down them. Where my dad could plan adventures and my mom could plant a garden. Where Neil could experiment in the kitchen, and David had a sweet dog named Annie.
And me, I had the ranch. There would always be bullies and wildfires and people like Ms. Horton who would want to see me fail. It wasn’t a perfect world by any means. And I still had fears to overcome. But, as long as there were alpacas in it, I knew living my best life would always be within reach.
Alapca my gratitude onto this page! Or, at least, I’ll try. For although my appreciation is bottomless, my ability to express my thanks is not.
To my deeply adored editor, Mallory Kass, you once again deserve so much of the credit. You are a wellspring of inspiration, insight, heart, and humor. It is such an honor and a pleasure to travel this road with you.
Many thanks to Maya Marlette, who manages to make me smile with every email she sends, and to all the other fine people at Scholastic who make it possible for me to share my stories. Special thanks to Mike Heath and Yaffa Jaskoll for creating a cover that is beyond adorable.
Thank you to my agent, Ginger Knowlton, and everyone else at Curtis Brown, Ltd. I am very lucky to have you!
Thank you to all the alpaca owners I spoke with, particularly those at Stargazer Ranch. I had the most delightful encounters with your sweet, furry animals.
Thank you to my readers, and to all the librarians and educators who work tirelessly to put books into the hands of children.
Thank you to all my lovely friends and relatives for the unwavering support. And to Matt, Ethan, Logan and Lucas—thank you for making me feel like I belong on our adventures even when I slow you down. You give me strength and courage in everything I do.
Above all else, my gratitude to God.
Jenny Goebel is the author of Out of My Shell, Grave Images, The 39 Clues: Mission Hurricane, and Fortune Falls. She lives in Denver with her husband and three sons. She can be found online at jennygoebel.com.
Copyright © 2020 by Jenny Goebel
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First printing 2020
Cover design by Yaffa Jaskoll
Cover art © 2020 by Mike Heath | Magnus Creative
e-ISBN 978-1-338-67363-0
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