“Icicle! Icicle!” Lizzie pointed out the car window. “See it? It’s huge!”

Her best friend, Maria, pretended to yawn. “We’ve already seen about forty thousand icicles.”

“I know,” said Lizzie. “But come on, that gigantic one was special.”

Maria shrugged. She did not look impressed. “I’ll give you half a point.”

“Fine,” said Lizzie. “But then you only get half a point for that leftover Christmas wreath. We’ve seen a billion of them, too.”

The girls were in the backseat of the Santiagos’ car, heading north. Maria’s parents had invited Lizzie along on their annual winter-break trip to Bear Valley, a ski area in Maine. The trip was long, much longer than the ride to the Santiagos’ cabin, where Lizzie had spent some time. Lizzie and Maria had already played Twenty Questions and I Spy. Now they were playing Winter Bingo, spotting special things they could see only because it was cold and snowy. They got a point for each item they claimed — but since they were making the rules up as they went along, the girls were doing more arguing than spotting.

Lizzie was used to arguing with her two brothers, but Charles and the Bean usually gave in to her at some point, since she was the oldest. Maria was tougher. Lizzie had to admire the way her friend held her ground.

“Snowman! Snow-woman! A whole snow family!” Maria jumped up and down in her seat as she pointed. “That’s worth two points.”

“Two points? Are you crazy?” Lizzie glared at her friend.

“Girls.” Mr. Santiago spoke up from the driver’s seat. “How about if we all just sit back and enjoy the scenery quietly for a little while? We’re just coming into the prettiest, wildest part of the drive.”

“I second that,” said Mrs. Santiago. She sat in the passenger seat up front, knitting. Mrs. Santiago was an amazing knitter. She was blind, so she did it all by touch. Sometimes Maria helped her sort her yarn, but then she’d be on her way, creating soft, thick rainbows of color. She’d made Maria a gorgeous pair of mittens and a matching scarf for Christmas, all in shades of blue and green.

Simba woofed softly from the way-back seat.

Mrs. Santiago laughed. “He’s voting for quiet, too.” Of course she could translate Simba’s woofs. Simba, a solid, dignified yellow Lab, was Mrs. Santiago’s guide dog.

Lizzie reached back to give Simba a scratch between the ears. “Well, if Simba says so …” In Lizzie’s opinion, dogs ruled. She was crazy about dogs of every breed. Lizzie loved to train dogs, play with dogs, learn about dogs, draw dogs, and dream about the dogs she might have in the future. She and Maria even had a dog-walking business. Fortunately, they shared it with two friends, who were taking care of things while Maria and Lizzie were away.

Petting Simba made Lizzie miss Buddy, her puppy. She knew she was lucky to be going on this vacation, but a little part of her wished she were home with Buddy, curled up together on her bed or playing in the backyard. Lizzie’s fingers itched to pet the heart-shaped white spot in the middle of his soft brown chest.

The Petersons fostered puppies, taking care of each one until they found it the perfect forever home. If it were up to Lizzie, her family would keep every single puppy they fostered, but that was never going to happen. At least she’d gotten to keep Buddy.

“Miss him?” Maria looked sympathetic.

Lizzie raised her eyebrows. Had Maria read her mind?

“You’re thinking about Buddy, right?” Maria asked. “I can always tell. You get this certain look on your face. Don’t worry. Soon you’re going to be having so much fun at Bear Valley that you won’t miss him at all.” She pulled a map out of the seat-back pocket in front of her. “See, our lodge is right here.” She pointed. “At the base of Little Bear Mountain. Little Bear’s my favorite, the one with all the best trails. The terrain park is there, too. You know, with all the jumps and stuff. You won’t believe how cool it is.”

Lizzie peered at the map, trying to make sense of the tangle of trails. This whole ski-resort thing was new to her. She had tried cross-country skiing one time, in Vermont, but she had not been very good at it. She’d tried snowshoeing, too, and she had liked that better. She’d even had the chance to drive a dogsled! What an adventure that had been. She smiled, thinking of the gorgeous husky pup named Bear that her family had ended up fostering on that trip.

“You’re going to love this trail.” Maria pointed. “Grizzly. It’s a little steep, but so much fun!”

“Woo-hoo!” said Mrs. Santiago. “Grizzly’s one of my favorites, too.”

Lizzie still could not imagine how Mrs. Santiago could be brave enough to ski without being able to see, but Maria had told her how much her mother loved to whiz down the slopes in her bright orange vest, with another skier whizzing along next to her, making sure she didn’t hit any obstacles. That was called adaptive skiing, Lizzie now knew.

Lizzie wasn’t sure she’d be brave enough for a trail like Grizzly, even though she could see perfectly well. She and Maria would be snowboarding. “I can teach you in, like, ten minutes,” her friend had promised. “You’ll love it.” Lizzie wasn’t so sure about that, but she was willing to try if it meant going on vacation with her best friend.

Now Mr. Santiago’s eyes met Lizzie’s in the rearview mirror. He smiled. “Or you can always come hiking with me,” he said. Mr. Santiago was not a skier or a snowboarder. He loved to poke through the wintry woods on snowshoes, looking for animal tracks. “This new snow should be perfect for tracking.”

Lizzie looked out the window at the snowbanks that lined both sides of the small two-lane highway. Tall trees loomed above the road, their bare branches lit golden by the late-afternoon sun. There hadn’t been a house or a store or any kind of building for a long time, not since the farm they’d passed with the snow family in front of its red barn. They were really in the country now.

The road twisted and turned as it climbed up, up, up into the mountains. Lizzie began to wish she had not looked at that Bear Valley map. She’d forgotten that reading in cars always made her tummy feel a little whoopsy. Now, as she sat in the backseat and they swooped through turn after turn, her tummy felt a lot whoopsy. She closed her eyes. That didn’t help at all. She opened them and stared at the seat in front of her. Ugh. Not good. She looked out the window at the snow-covered trees flying by. “Ohh,” she groaned. “Um, Mr. S., do you think you could —” She clutched her belly.

“Are you okay?” Maria asked. She reached out to pat Lizzie’s shoulder. “You look sort of green.”

Mr. Santiago glanced into the rearview mirror. “Lizzie, are you going to —” Something he saw in Lizzie’s face must have answered his question. He put on his turn signal. The car slowed, pulled to the right, then skidded to a sudden stop at a strange angle. Lizzie’s shoulder banged against the window, and Maria bumped up against her.

“Uh-oh,” said Mrs. Santiago. “That doesn’t feel right.”

Mr. Santiago sighed. “No kidding. I think we just went into a ditch.”

Lizzie sat up. “Can I still get out?” she asked.

“If your door will open, sure,” said Mr. Santiago.

Lizzie managed to open her door just a few inches before it wedged itself against the snowbank. Still, she was able to squeeze through the small opening. When she stepped out, she sank into the snow. “Whoa,” she said. “It’s over my knees!”

“Careful,” said Mrs. Santiago. “How do you feel?”

Lizzie took a few deep breaths of clean, cold air. “I feel fine,” she said, surprised. She turned to look back at the car. “But I think we might be stuck.”

Mr. Santiago got out of the car and walked around to look at the passenger-side wheels, which were both half-buried in snow. “I think you’re right,” he said.

Lizzie felt awful. “I’m sorry,” she said in a tiny voice.

“It’s not your fault.” Mr. Santiago bent to scrape snow away from the front tire. “But I’m not sure how we’re going to get out of here. There’s no cell phone service until we get higher up in the mountains, so I can’t call for a tow.” He stood up and scratched his head.

“We could flag down the next car that comes along,” said Maria, who had also climbed out of the car.

“Good idea,” said Mr. Santiago. “But we haven’t seen another car in a while. It’s awfully quiet out here.”

It was quiet, Lizzie realized. Very quiet. No wind, no traffic noises, no airplanes overhead. She held her breath for a moment, listening. Then she heard a familiar sound. She would know that sound anywhere! It was the sound of jingling collar tags. She turned to look into the woods and saw something moving toward them, leaping through the snow like a deer.

But it wasn’t a deer. It was a puppy.