Three days later, Nicky woke to find her sister’s bed already made. Sun streamed in, even though the boardwalk below was dark with rain. The trees in Sky River Valley seemed to float on their trunks. A few eagles flapped lazily against the blue sky. She rose from her bed, already eager to get outside and soak up the sunshine, as far as she could get from the awkward silence in their house. She made a note to remind Clete about the bike he said he’d bring her.
When Nicky came downstairs, she glimpsed Josie on the computer in the front room. Veronica waved at her on the screen, and Nicky waved back. “Hi!” she said. She heard Veronica say, “See you at the town hall tonight!” before Josie rose and shut the door, making a face at her.
In the kitchen, her father wore his red glasses on the tip of his nose as he flipped through The Jackson Cove Caller while sipping his coffee.
“Morning, kiddo,” he said, putting down the paper. She opened the fridge for milk and didn’t answer. Just a plastic bottle of orange juice, a can of ready-to-bake biscuits, a jar of jelly and peanut butter, and her dad’s crusty ball of dough left over from Sunday’s pizza night.
“Sorry for the empty fridge,” her dad said. “I’m a bad hunter. Aunt Mall should be by any minute to drop off groceries.”
“It’s okay. I’m not that hungry.”
He tapped the newspaper. “It says in here that there’s going to be social distancing when the middle school opens in a couple weeks. Hygiene stations, testing twice a month. That means you kids will be wearing masks in the classroom.”
Josie stepped into the kitchen. “I’m not going to school in a mask,” she announced, pulling out her earbuds. “In fact, I might not go to school at all. Veronica and I were just talking about building our own learning pod. Her parents think it’s a good idea. Her dad, Nathan, says schools are an invention of the Industrial Revolution, to occupy children while their parents work in the factories. He doesn’t believe in them. Veronica says we’re probably the smartest in middle school—no offense, Nicky. Her mother might reach out to you, Dad. They’re thinking of flying a Native teacher up from Metlakatla, where Veronica’s mother grew up, so we can learn the Tsimshian language.”
“I can’t even keep track of half of what you’re saying, but as far as I know, you still owe your sister an apology for Sunday night.”
“Don’t get me started on who owes who an apology,” Josie said. “Are you coming to my speech tonight?” she asked, eyeing Nicky.
“Maybe.”
“You have to come,” Josie said matter-of-factly. “It would look pathetic if my own sister wasn’t there.”
Her father folded the newspaper. “I’m going to listen on the radio. People will be more comfortable that way, considering that we haven’t been here fourteen days. And I think I should give you some space.”
Josie watched him warily. “Space? Why would I need space? Now you’re distancing from us?”
“Nooo…,” he said, smiling. “You’ll knock it out of the park tonight. I’ll be just up the street.”
Josie held his stare, then let it go. She poured herself a glass of orange juice. “All I know is that I’m going to speak my mind, and take action, just like Mom would have. She never sat around doing nothing. She did what was right.”
“Josie,” her father said, sounding tired. “Please don’t get started again. We’re all doing what we think is right.”
“This isn’t a time for being comfortable,” she persisted. “Or for being scared. When you see something that’s wrong, you speak up.” She gulped down her orange juice and set her dirty glass in the sink with a clack. “You use reason, and logic, and tell others how to get better. That’s what Mom would have done. So that’s what I’m doing.”
Their father picked up his guitar and slide. “As I said before, I’m proud of you. Your speech will be great.”
“Please don’t play too loud,” Josie said. “Veronica and I are about to do online yoga. We both have to clear our heads for the town hall.” And she left.
Nicky sat alone. She needed to tell her sister about the trees. Even if Josie made fun of it, she needed to tell her that she had felt something. Sky River Valley could speak. This was about more than saving a forest. It was about saving lives.
Resolving not to give up until she broke through Josie’s icy exterior, Nicky went down the wood-clad hall and opened the door to the front room. Josie sat cross-legged on her purple mat, staring forward at the wall. Her computer was closed behind her.
“Hey,” Nicky said. Josie didn’t budge. “Did you already feed Watermelon?”
“Yes. Now please go.” She continued to stare at the wall.
“Are you—meditating?” Nicky asked, taking a step forward. When Josie didn’t respond, Nicky said, “I’ll come tonight.”
“Good. Please shut the door.”
“Can I stay in here and talk to you?”
“No,” her sister said flatly. “I already told you. I have a class scheduled, and I need to think through my speech.”
“But you’re just —”
Josie broke her stare-off with the wall, set her hands on her knees, and turned to face her sister. “Please get out of the room and leave me alone. Now.”
Nicky shut the door quietly. She moved past the kitchen, where mournful notes rose from her father’s guitar. She went downstairs, guiding the door shut behind her. Standing on the damp boardwalk, she breathed in the moist air, closing her eyes as her lungs filled and fighting back tears.
Meooowwww.
Rooster stood in Sven’s doorway, arching her back and rubbing it against a peeling wooden post holding up the portico. The cat inspected Nicky with her large, golden eyes.
“Oh, Rooster,” Nicky said, wiping her tears with her coat sleeve. “I wish you could tell me what I’m supposed to do.”
From an open window Nicky heard the pluck of Sven playing his mandolin. He sang softly about a salesman who lost his way while traveling between towns.
Rooster continued to watch her.
“What?”
The cat dashed off, her tail high as she slipped behind the toolshed.
Nicky started down the gravel road. At the end of it she breathed in the sea air, trying to quiet her mind. Telling herself, over and over, again and again, that no matter what happened to those trees, everything would be okay. And not believing it for one second.
That evening, she left her father at the kitchen table with the radio beside him, its metal antenna stretched into the air. He looked like someone in the movies, with one ear glued to the shiny box. Nicky thought of these waves connecting each of the houses on the island, just like the fungal networks joining the tree roots in Sky River Valley. Creating a community that prospered, or went down, together. When the signal got scratchy, he touched the antenna, though the radio station was just across Main Street, down the road from the town hall.
“Tell your sister good luck for me,” he said as Nicky went down the stairs. “I’m here listening.”
“I’ll tell her.”
The buildings cast long shadows in the setting sun across Main Street. The windows of the Ben Franklin Store advertised home school kits with math books and do-it-yourself science labs, with pictures on the posters of children smiling over microscopes. Nicky wondered how many kids would actually show up this year for school. Like Josie, she didn’t want to wear a mask in class, or be confined to her own particular quadrant, protected by a plastic barrier. She also didn’t want to deal with the other kids thinking she was infected because she came from the Lower 48, or because her mother had died from the virus.
The town hall was a low-slung building situated along the water. As Nicky crossed the street toward it, she saw Clete and Uncle Cliff coming up from the harbor, looking like twins in their flannels and jeans and brown XtraTufs. Clete wheeled a bike beside him. Aunt Mall wasn’t with them. Nicky wore her boots too, the rubber molded to her feet. Even if it wasn’t raining, or if she wasn’t going to the woods, she loved how the boots felt. The Jackson Cove Slippers made her feel protected from the rain and mud, and also like she belonged on this island.
From across the parking lot she waved. Clete waved back. They met in front of a bronze statue of a small, bald man with a hand on his knee, gazing west over the ocean.
“Hey, Nicky. Is your sister speaking tonight?” Clete asked.
“Yes,” Nicky responded, watching as Uncle Cliff lifted his mesh hat and patted down his dark black hair.
Uncle Cliff sighed. “I’m afraid your sister and I, we’re going to be speaking on different sides of the aisle,” he said as he examined the brown-shingled building by the water. “I don’t like to speak against family. I hope she doesn’t hold it against me.”
“She will,” Nicky assured him, barely containing her own anger at the thought of Uncle Cliff leading a crew of loggers into Sky River Valley, where he had just shot a deer and gathered mushrooms.
“I understand her worry for the future of the planet. And yours. But I’m afraid she can’t just step onto this island and tell people how to act. It doesn’t work like that. People are desperate for jobs. C’mon. Let’s go in.”
“Nicky, I’ll leave the bike here for you,” Clete said, leaning it against the building. “So you can get around town if you need to.”
“Thanks.”
Uncle Cliff held the door for them. As they walked in, Clete whispered, “That’s so you can get into the valley.” This confused her. He had said when they went into the woods that she could use it to explore town. She couldn’t imagine going into Sky River Valley without him, especially considering the bears. She didn’t even have pepper spray.
Display cases in the lobby showed dusty sea otters and land otters, robes made of ground squirrel and marten skins, and coats stitched from seal and sea lion fur. High above, a halibut with its mouth open to a wooden hook was carved into a slab of yellow cedar. Next to it was an oil painting of the same cranky-looking bald man whose statue was outside, the Russian who had led the battle against the Tlingits in 1804.
A tall older man with sun-bleached, sandy blond-and-pewter hair approached Cliff. “Hey, guy,” he said. His low voice echoed in the lobby. He had tortoiseshell glasses and wore loafers with tassels and no socks. “You have your speech prepared?”
“Evening, Lars,” Uncle Cliff said. “I’m not much for preparing speeches, but I’ve got a few words I’ll share.”
“Good, Cliff. I’m sure that’ll be fine. What do you think our Russian friend would think of all this?” Lars said, tipping his head at the painting.
“I think he’d be kicking himself for not getting the rest of those trees out of the valley,” Cliff said, observing instead the yellow cedar carving of the halibut.
This made Lars laugh. “You’re right, aren’t you? He wanted what you and I do, to help develop this island. Make it a place suitable for people to live.”
“Lars, this here’s my niece Nicky Hall,” Uncle Cliff said. “And look who’s coming over. This is my other niece, Josephine.”
Josie met eyes with Nicky as she crossed the lobby. She had tied her curls back in two tight buns that resembled small unripe pumpkins. Tendrils of green hair fell like vines to either side of her eyes. She wore a hooded rose-colored dress that their mother had bought for her two years ago, for a father-daughter dance at Danville Elementary School. The dress fit too tightly now, and seemed wildly out of place among the worn jeans and XtraTufs and oiled baseball caps in the crowd.
Josie clearly didn’t care. Nicky felt the familiar pang of envy, wishing she had her sister’s confidence, as Josie glared up at the tall owlish man, who blinked back at her from behind his round glasses.
“Hi, little miss. I hear you’ll be speaking against cutting the valley tonight, along with my brother, I suspect. I admire your pluck.”
“I don’t admire you,” Josie retorted. “After tonight, I hope your mill gets shut down.”
Lars’s bushy eyebrows shot up, and his thin lips shrank into his mouth. “I hope, for the sake of this island, and your uncle and your father, that it doesn’t.”
Josie watched him. “Our father will be fine without your mill. So will Cliff. His family has been living here for thousands of years without clearcutting. Right, Uncle Cliff?”
They all turned to him. Nicky had never seen her uncle at a loss for words. “My family has been finding their own way on Shee for some time,” he finally said.
“Unlike your family, who arrived less than a week ago, right?” Lars said. “And already your father has a job at the mill. That is, so long as we get that valley.”
Uncle Cliff sighed. He shot a look at Lars, then hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans, squared his shoulders to the group, and examined the carpet beneath him.
“Well, pleasure to meet you girls,” Lars said, stepping away. “I guess I better go see if I can’t find a place to stand.”
“Uncle Cliff, what was he talking about?” Josie said when the tall man left.
“Josie, I’m sorry he didn’t tell you two, but your dad’s been interviewing with us. He’ll be helping to find buyers for the old growth we’ll be logging—the higher-end wood. He’s got great people skills. Your dad’s an impressive guy.” Uncle Cliff gestured with his chin at the room. “Should we make a move?”
Nicky started inside, but Josie grabbed her wrist.
“Did you know any of this?”
Nicky shook her head. She watched as her sister’s face began to fall. Then Josie collected herself and knit her brow, as if to freeze any tears that might start. Her face clouded over, and her lips tightened. “I wish the virus had gotten him instead of Mom,” she said.
Before Nicky could respond, Josie marched toward the main hall, the cowl hood on her red dress flowing like a cape behind her.