On my seventeenth birthday, I went to school as usual. I didn’t have a lot of friends, but I had two really good ones. Mara is one of the smartest people I know, and Vicky is one of the funniest. We were inseparable, relying on each other to get us through long school days with lots of kids who thought they were better than us for ridiculous reasons, like the brand of their jeans or the logo on their shoes. We didn’t go to a ritzy school by any means, but in California, everyone is concerned about things like that--everyone but us, I guess. I couldn’t imagine making it through high school without Mara and Vicky by my side, and I know they felt exactly the same was as me.
So when I stepped off of the school bus that afternoon to see a moving truck parked in front of my house, my mouth dropped open I must’ve stood there in the gravel strip between my house and the road for a good three minutes while four men I didn’t recognize packed box after box into the truck. A glimpse inside told me that the furniture was already there. I could see the dining room table where my sister and mom had been sitting the day before while I stared out the window situated between the boxes, as well as my own bedroom set.
“What’s going on?” my sister, Grayson, asked from behind me. I hadn’t even heard her get off the bus behind me, I’d been so focused on that truck.
“I have no idea,” I managed. It didn’t make any sense. There wasn’t a for sale sign in front of our house. Granted, it was a rental, but my parents hadn’t said anything about Mr. Hightower wanting us to find another place to live. No one had said anything at all about it. It wasn’t even the end of the month! My sister and I exchanged glances and rushed into the house, dodging around more boxes and small items sitting in the entryway. “Mom!”
“In here!” she called from the kitchen. I was in such a rush, I nearly tripped over a rolled up rug protruding from behind another stack of boxes. I caught myself on the corner of a cardboard box, and Grayson’s hand reached out to steady me. I muttered my thanks and then proceeded into the kitchen.
My mom and Max were hurriedly pulling dishes out of the cupboards, wrapping pre-cut pieces of bubble wrap around them, taping it down, and setting them in those especially designed dish boxes. “Hi, girls,” Mom said with only a cursory glance over her shoulder. “I didn’t realize it was so late. I was hoping we’d be all packed before you got home.”
“Why? Were you going to leave without us?” Grayson asked.
Max chuckled in the back of his throat, as if the idea was unheard of. But then… considering what we were looking at at the moment, I didn’t think it was that farfetched. “No, of course not,” he said.
“What is going on?” I demanded. “Why are we moving? Where are we going?”
My mom sighed and stopped packing, dropping her head for a long moment before she turned to face us. “I’m sorry, girls. I know you want answers. You deserve them. But we are not going to be able to tell you much right now. Only that… we’re going to Grandma’s house in Montana.” She went back to packing, as if her words were not world-shattering.
Grayson and I looked at each other, our mouths dropping open as we stared into each other’s eyes. A million thoughts shot through my head, not least of all was how this wasn’t fair. Why in the world?
“No,” my sister said, her head swiveling to look at my mom. “No way! I’m not moving to Montana! My friends are here!”
“Grayson…” my mom began, stopping her frantic bubble wrapping again so she could face my sister.
“No!” Grayson shouted again. “You can’t make me!” Then, my sister pivoted on one heel, turning back the way we came, and took off like a shot toward the front door.
I watched panic invade my mother’s eyes as she thought of all of the horrible things that could happen to her youngest daughter. She could get hit by a car, get lost, get kidnapped…. But she didn’t move, only stood there with her favorite glass platter in her hands, half-wrapped, her mouth ajar, tears starting to surface in her eyes.
I didn’t want to go either. The last thing in the world I wanted was to leave my only two friends in the world--Mara and Vicky--and move off to the middle of nowhere, where my grandmother lived in the forests of Montana. But there was something about the expression in my mother’s eyes that made me realize, whatever this was, it was necessary.
Taking a deep breath, I said, “I’ll find her.”
“Thank you, Harlow,” my mom said in a broken, quiet voice.
I nodded and then turned around to follow my sister, knowing exactly where she would’ve gone.
Grayson was sitting on a swing at the local playground, about four blocks from our house. Normally, I might’ve poked fun at her, squeezing her too large frame into the seat obviously designed for a much smaller girl, but today, I said nothing, only sat down on the swing next to her, waiting for her to speak. I knew, given time, she would say something.It took
The drive from California to Montana was slow and tedious, not because it was really that far in the large scheme of things, but because none of us wanted to go. Even my parents, who weren’t in the same vehicle but talked on the phone several times on the trip, had a tone of melancholy in their voices that Grayson and I were unable to miss. It was quite clear that they were just going through the motions. Whatever had sparked this sudden, necessary move, it wasn’t something my mom or my stepdad was thrilled about either.
The view outside of the van window shifted and changed, becoming more forested as we got closer to Grandma Angnes’s house. The roads worsened as our surroundings changed, going from paved interstate highways to asphalt, to gravel, and now, we were on a winding dirt path that was so narrow, should another vehicle come in our direction, there wouldn’t be any place to go. I was thankful the likelihood of two cars trying to use this road at the same time was slim to none--there simply weren’t many people out this way.
Grandma’s house did smell more like burning wood in the spring than it did in the summer, but seated in her kitchen, a cup of warm milk in my hands, it was the scent of baking gingerbread that filled my lungs. When Grandma had announced she was making her famous cookies, Mom had reminded her that it wasn’t Christmas. Grandma Agnes had shrugged and said, “Gingerbread cookies can be for any special occasion, dear. Haven't I taught you anything?”
Both Grayson and I stared at Grandma Agnes for the longest time after she made that statement--wolves have everything to do with everything. What was that supposed to mean? It took me so long to formulate that question, or any other, that my mother appeared at the foot of the stairs. We couldn’t see her, not yet, but we could hear her footsteps. When she ducked into the kitchen, my eyes went to her face.
The forest around my grandmother’s was alive, just as she had mentioned. It wasn’t just one creature that opened my eyes to the life around me, but dozens, and the further I walked away from the cottage, the more I could see exactly what she was speaking of.Squirrels darted from tree to tree. Birds fluttered above me, calling out to one another as they circled
Later that evening, we’d had a small, thrown together birthday party for me. It was nice of my family to do something. I had thought, perhaps, they’d forgotten about my birthday, in all of the hustle of moving. My mom gave me a new case for my phone that I’d been looking at online, which seemed a little useless out here in the woods when there wasn’t much of a signal most of the time, but I’d still been happy to see it. Max had picked out a new hoodie for me, which I thought would be a good thing to have. It was red, my favorite color, and oversized, which made it super comfortable. My sister gave me a drawing she’d done of the two of us together. I
For the next few weeks, nothing much happened. My mom had tried to enroll us in the local school, but it was already out for summer. They told her they’d just go ahead and advance us to the next grade levels when school started up in the fall, which meant I’d be trekking the fifteen miles to Whispering Hollows High for my senior year, and Grayson would at least spend the start of her sophomore year there. I knew she was still trying to figure out a way to go back home. I wanted to go back as well, but I had resigned myself to the fact that I’d have