SAM MADE IT back to the yard before full dark but could not bring herself to go inside the house. Pirate Princess was gone forever, and with her, any hope Sam had of somehow rescuing the princess and returning her to Aunt Vicky. Her hands would not stop shaking.
Sam pushed her fingers through the mesh of the chicken fence and tried to calm her breathing. Almost as if she knew Sam was there, Lady Louise appeared on the tiny ramp leading out of the coop. The chicken looked smaller now. More fragile. As if Ashander’s demand had reminded even Lady Louise that, to a fox, she was still only prey.
Rip. Slash. Stuffing falling like snow to the forest floor.
Ashander said Sam only had one test left. That she was close to winning his favor and the Golden Acorn and her way home.
All the things Sam wanted.
Only … it was getting harder to focus on why she wanted them. Now, mixed in with her memories of Saturday morning brunches and late-night movies were memories of hiding under the covers while she waited for the yelling to stop. Of trying to cry softly in the bathroom because she knew it would be so much worse if anyone heard. Of standing outside the front door of their house after school, not wanting to go inside. Of sometimes wondering what it would be like to run away.
The door to Aunt Vicky’s house opened, pulling Sam back to the present. Hannah called, “Sam, it’s getting late!”
Sam’s legs carried her inside. Her mouth smiled. Her hands took the last piece of cake and, somehow, got a bite of it to her mouth. Aunt Vicky handed her milk in a white mug with a bright-yellow chicken painted on the side that read, CLUCK TWICE FOR TEA.
Aunt Vicky was being too nice. So nice that it hurt.
“I’m tired,” Sam blurted. She handed the mug back to Aunt Vicky without taking a single sip. “I need to go to bed.”
She didn’t deserve cake. Or milk. Not after what she’d done to Pirate Princess.
And to Aunt Vicky.
“Are you feeling all right?” Hannah asked. She was at Sam’s side in an instant, the back of her hand pressed gently to Sam’s forehead. “Sweaty but not feverish. Good. Same as it is for most of us at this time of year.”
“She’s fine,” Caitlin said from the table. She had one earbud in and one out, and was eating the last few crumbs of her cake, one by one. Normally Caitlin saying anything was enough to shift focus away from Sam. Between the two of them, Caitlin was the Lady Louise. The one with her chin up and her chest out. The bigger one. The brave one.
But here in Oregon, where nothing worked like it was supposed to, Hannah didn’t leave Sam’s side. Aunt Vicky switched the mug of milk for a glass of water and pressed it into Sam’s hand.
Sam drank. The cool rush down her throat cleared her head. For a moment, she felt a little better. A little stronger.
“Caitlin’s right,” Sam said. “I’m fine. I think I just want to go to bed early.”
“Sure thing, sweetie,” Hannah said.
“Tomorrow we’ll get all those boxes out of your room,” Aunt Vicky said. “We’ll make it more yours.”
The offer made Sam’s insides ache. But Aunt Vicky wanted Sam to be excited, so Sam managed a small smile and thanked them for the cake, and was finally allowed to escape.
When she slipped into her room, the squirrels were waiting for her.
Maple stood on the windowsill, looking out into the night. Birch and Cedar tussled on the bed, rolling around each other so fast that Sam could barely tell which squirrel was which.
She shut the door quickly and tossed her backpack onto the floor.
“I’m so glad you’re okay!” She wanted to pull all three of them into a big hug, but Maple’s serious expression dissuaded her.
“Ashander sent us,” Maple said. She rubbed her tiny arm. “He thought you looked upset during the test.”
Sam had been upset. Because Ashander had upset her.
Birch and Cedar stopped playing. Birch’s helmet had fallen off, and Cedar’s yellow tunic was twisted almost backward. They stared up at her, waiting.
Could she trust them?
Would they turn around and tell Ashander everything she said?
She honestly didn’t know.
“Now, now,” Maple said. “Put your pajamas on. Climb into bed. You’ve had a long day. Birch, Cedar, fix that pillow you rumpled! Smooth those sheets!”
The squirrels scampered over her bed, tugging the blankets and making it look ever so much more appealing. Suddenly, every muscle in Sam’s body seemed to ache, as if she’d been clenching them for hours. She changed her clothes and crawled under her blanket, as instructed. All three squirrels sat on the windowsill, their furry feet dangling over the edge.
“I miss BriAnn,” Sam said. She hadn’t meant to say it. It just slipped out, a little like tears.
“I know, dear,” Maple said. “You’ll see her again soon.”
“She’ll show you all the pictures she’s drawn,” Cedar added.
Birch crossed her arms and huffed. “And she’ll probably ask you about Hawaii.”
“Shh, now,” Maple scolded. “Sam is only doing what’s necessary to protect her family and her secrets. She knows the rules.”
She did know the rules. Never tell. Not even your best friend.
Not even when your sister ends up in the hospital.
“He didn’t mean to scare you, Sam.” Maple’s voice was soft and gentle, and Sam found herself drifting to sleep.
She woke to the sound of clattering plates in the kitchen and birds singing outside the window. A sweet, piney breeze drifted over her, as if it were sweeping away the night. Plus, three tiny acorn-meat tarts sat on her pillow, and only two of them looked half-eaten.
It was a nice way to wake up, and Sam wondered if it would be terrible to just stay in bed a little longer, and maybe stay in Oregon a little longer, too. Mr. Sanchez said it would get easier.
Maybe … maybe he was right.
But then Ashander’s threat came back to her. She could almost hear his voice in her ear. Bring me Lady Louise, or I’ll take something else from you instead.
There was no stopping this quest now. Maple had warned her at the beginning about this one unbreakable rule. Sam only wished she could go back and heed the warning.
And now the moon was full, its glowing face filling the tiny cutout on her watch. Time was up.
She heard noises from the next room, and a second later, Caitlin popped open Sam’s door.
“You slept through breakfast, nerd. Hannah already left for work.”
“Learn to knock,” Sam grumbled.
Caitlin ignored her. “Hey, I think Mom packed my suitcase, and she put this old team hoodie in. It’s way too small for me, even without the cast. You want it?” She held up a faded blue hoodie with white writing: THE SHERMAN OAKS SHOOTING STARS.
“Um,” Sam said.
“Sweet!” Caitlin tossed the hoodie onto Sam’s face. The world went dark again under the thick cotton. “Now get out of bed. I think Aunt Vicky wants to talk to you about something.”
Those words pinned Sam in place. Aunt Vicky wants to talk to you.
Caitlin left and Sam stayed under the sweatshirt, trying not to panic. She breathed in the familiar scent of lavender laundry detergent. The kind her mom used. Every piece of clothing Sam owned smelled like that lavender. But not if she failed today. If she didn’t pass the final test, if she didn’t win the Golden Acorn, then slowly but surely, that lavender would disappear, replaced by whatever detergent Aunt Vicky or Hannah bought.
That’s what would happen to everything if she failed. Aunt Vicky and Hannah would replace her parents. Lucas would replace BriAnn. Trees and chickens would replace restaurants and shops and the endless bustle of things happening on her street in Los Angeles.
The new version of Caitlin would replace the old Caitlin, too, but … maybe that wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily. Even with her arm in a cast, this Caitlin seemed more herself, somehow. Old Caitlin was always trying to be the best at everything, always trying to protect Sam, always making everyone happy.
But the real Caitlin didn’t always want to help with the dishes.
Sam kind of liked the real Caitlin. Back home, that sort of defiance would not have gone over well.
We have to get her to the hospital.
Sam shook the voice out of her head. She got out of bed and dressed with all the speed and excitement of a girl being forced to walk the plank on a pirate ship. Aunt Vicky wanted to talk with her, and she knew exactly why.
The sky seemed on board with her impending doom. Gray clouds milled about, grumbling and threatening rain. Hopefully they’d be gone by nightfall, in time for the moon to come out. But even if they didn’t, there would be magic tonight. Powerful magic. Sam could feel it.
She arrived in the kitchen at the same time Armen burst through the front door. His shirt was only partly tucked in, and strands of his hair had not been caught by his normally meticulous ponytail. Aunt Vicky handed him a cup of coffee and directed Sam to a seat at the table, where a stack of pancakes waited next to full glasses of milk and orange juice.
Aunt Vicky had made Sam breakfast.
Did she not know about Pirate Princess? But she had to! Her aunt went to bed last night, and she must have noticed that her favorite rabbit was missing.
And yet, there were pancakes. With melty butter and syrup. As if Sam deserved to eat. Sam sat and poked the pancakes with a finger. Still warm.
“Sorry I’m late,” Armen said. “Miranda Ruiz called. Three of her chickens are…” He seemed to notice Sam for the first time and slowed down. Seemed to choose his words more carefully. “They’re missing. Two are…” He hesitated again. “Permanently missing. One is just gone.”
“Oh, poor Miranda! She loves her Rhode Island Reds,” Aunt Vicky said. “What happened? Did she leave the gate open? I’ll bring her something later. Maybe some extra eggs, unless you think…?”
“No, that’s a good idea,” Armen said. “She’ll probably be grief-baking for a week.”
Sam stared at the table, thinking furiously. It had to be a coincidence. Missing chickens the morning after Ashander had told her to steal a chicken. Maybe chickens went missing all the time in Oregon. Maybe this had nothing to do with him.
Caitlin strolled into the room. “Lucas is outside my window going on about paw prints and wild animals.” She nodded to Armen. “He wants you to come see.”
Armen raised an eyebrow at Aunt Vicky. She dropped her dish towel, and the two of them headed for the door. Sam followed, a ball of dread growing in her gut.
They hurried to the side of the house and found Lucas squatting in the tall grass.
“Dad, look!” he said, motioning to a spot on the ground.
They huddled around and stared at two large paw prints, captured perfectly in the mud just under Caitlin’s open window.
Caitlin shouldered into the group next to Sam. “Is that a cat? Was it trying to get inside?”
“No, it wasn’t a cat,” Lucas said. “No tiny claw marks above the pads.”
“A dog, then. Or a wolf,” Aunt Vicky said. “They’re too big to be from a fox.”
“They are too big, and yet look at the position of the toes.” Armen scratched his chin. “Those are definitely fox prints.”
Sam hugged her arms. Ashander had been here. Outside Caitlin’s window. Probably while she was sleeping.
Aunt Vicky stood up and scanned the chicken yard. Six black-and-white hens bobbed and clucked, including Lady Louise. “The chickens seem fine. Lady Louise kept them safe,” she said. “But should we be worried about attacks? If there is some rogue fox on the loose…”
“Foxes don’t attack people,” Armen scoffed.
Foxes don’t normally recite riddles, either, Sam thought.
She wanted to tell them. The words were sitting on her tongue. But the moment she did, it would all be over. The tests, the Golden Acorn, the way home. Everything. And then Ashander might get really angry.
Armen stood up and rubbed his eyes. “We’re probably overreacting. I’m very sorry for Miranda, but chickens get out of their coops all the time.”
“And maybe this one just has big paws,” Lucas said, poking at one of the prints.
And even bigger claws, Sam thought with a shudder.
Overhead, the skies were darkening, the clouds now an angry swirl.
“It’s going to rain,” Aunt Vicky said. “Let’s get back inside.”
Armen helped Lucas up. The four of them headed for the kitchen as the first drops of rain plunked to the earth.
Sam hesitated. Something looked wrong with the mailbox. She’d put her letter to BriAnn in there last night and lifted the flag on the side to let the mail carrier know there was a pickup.
The little flag was now missing.
She took a few steps closer. Had the mailbox always been tilted like the Leaning Tower of Pisa? No, yesterday it had been ramrod straight, perfectly perpendicular to the ground. She was sure of it.
The lid was still closed, so she tugged it open. The first drops of rain dashed themselves on her forehead.
Her letter to BriAnn was still inside. At least, pieces of it were. Someone or something had ripped it in half. She pulled out one of the scraps and recognized her drawing of a palm tree, her lies to BriAnn. A reddish-brown chicken feather clung to the back.
But none of Aunt Vicky’s chickens were brown.