Part One

It’s right this way.” The woman starts down the long hallway at a brisk pace.

I run to keep up with her. Clack. Clack. Clack. My face grows warm as I listen to the noise my shoes make on the granite floor. I can see a self-conscious image of myself in my mind’s eye: light brown hair, large gray eyes, freckled, hands clasped in front, eyes pointed downwards. The image causes my cheeks to redden further.

“It’s just routine questions, of course. Nothing hard.” The woman turns to reassure me.

I nod.

“Alright. Just in there,” she opens a door and ushers me inside.

In the room, an old professionally dressed man sits behind a desk with a small plaque that reads MR. DAVID WILLIAMS and below in smaller letters CHILDREN’S SERVICES. As I enter, he pushes his glasses up his nose to glare at me.

“Sit.” It is more of a command than an invitation.

I sit in the chair across from him.

“Name?”

“Eira.” I glance around the room. Somehow, it seems familiar, but I shake that thought away.

“Louder.”

“Eira,” I repeat, my voice hardly more than a whisper. I shake my head, attempting to dislodge the memory of the room. It doesn’t matter, Eira.

He scratches something on a piece of paper. “Age?”

“Fourteen.” The memory is growing stronger, pulling at my consciousness.

“Parents' names?”

Focus, Eira! But my mind doesn’t respond. Instead, the memory rears out of my control, pulling me with it.

“Age?”

The man towers like a giant above me. “Seven. See?” I hold out seven chubby fingers. 

“This is serious, Eira. Answer me seriously. What are your parents' names?”

I grin at him. I had hoped he would ask that! “Mommy’s a tree,” I chant. “With big long,” I hold the word out as far as I can. “Looooong arms to hug me. Daddy’s a mountain, always tall,” I hold out my arms to show the man. “Enough to hold me. And then they made me,” I giggle. “Their little snow angel! Do you like it? I made it myself!”

He shakes his head. “This is serious, Eira. Your parents aren’t here anymore.”

“Really?” My eyes tear. “But when will they be back? They didn’t tell me they were going.”

The man sighs. “You won’t see them again in this world.”

“Did you hear me, Eira?” The man shakes his pen impatiently. “Parent’s names.”

I stare at him. I blink back tears. “I’m sorry.” I wrap my arms to hug myself under the desk. “I don’t remember.”

DING-DONG. 

I wait at the door, heart in my throat. Could this really be my new family?

“Oh, honey, you're here!” Three pairs of hands pull me inside.

The room is spacious but modest and worn in a way that calms me.

“Very pleased to meet you.” A small voice says with effort, a minuscule hand grasping my own. The boy holding my hand has a head of curly brown hair, a pale complexion, and adoring chocolate-colored eyes.

A woman laughs. “Benny! This isn’t formal!” She ruffles his hair.

Benny hides behind her.

“Well,” the woman says. She pulls me into a hug. “That’s Benigno, but just call him Benny. He’s seven.” She steps away to bring a girl forward. “This is Aella, who’s ten, and I’m Amica or Aunty Amica.” She laughs, her long blonde braid bouncing over her shoulder. “Don’t you like the sound of that?”

“You’re Eira?” Aella asks. 

I nod, staring at her. Aella has long, tangled dirty blonde hair and startling dark eyes.

“How long are you staying here?”

“Forever, silly girl!” Aunty Amica runs a hand through Aella’s hair. “She’s your sister.” 

“But why is she here?”

“That doesn’t matter! She’s with us now. Don’t be rude.”

“I wasn’t being rude mom! Just direct.” Aella yawns.

“Well, I think it’s well past your bedtime. And yours too, Benny. Go to sleep.”

“Okay. I love you,” Benny says and hugs his mom.

“I’m not tired,” Aella announces.

Aunty kisses them both and pushes Aella away.

After they leave, she turns to me. “Why don’t we get something to drink, Eira?”

I follow her to the kitchen, and take the soda she hands me.

“So, how was the trip?” She reaches farther into the fridge to produce a bottle of beer.

I shrug, studying her curiously. Aunt Amica is plump and wears no makeup, but has a pretty face of blonde hair, blue eyes, and a proud grin.

She smiles. “I won’t make you talk.” She drinks a swig. “But your birthday’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”

I nod.

“And how old will you be?”

“Fifteen,” I whisper.

“Fifteen! Almost an adult! We caught you just in time.” She winks. “Now Eira,” she takes another drink of beer and sets it on a counter. “I have a dilemma.” She leans towards me. “I want to get you the most perfect present for tomorrow, but since we just met, I don’t know what! So I’m gonna give you the choice. You can have anything at all.”

“I’m fine.”

Aunty smiles. “You’re being shy, aren’t you?”

I stare at her.

“I want to get you a present, honey. And I want you to love it! So I need you to help me out. What would you like?”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“You’re positive?”

“Absolutely.”

“Do you think,” I pause. The idea is too outlandish to be spoken aloud. “Do you think… I could go on a backpacking trip?”

“A backpacking trip.” She leans back and takes another drink of beer. “Well, I’ve never gone on a backpacking trip before. I’m not sure I’d know how!”

“I can go by myself. I’ll be fine.”

“No way! We’re coming with you, sweety! Now, what would you do for a backpacking trip?”

* * *

3 weeks later

“How far have we gone?” Aella, Benny, and I walk together. Over two hours have passed since we set out on our backpacking trip. On either side of us, there is enough lime green grass and tall lodgepole pine trees to make them seem liable to overgrow the trail at any moment. Red, pink, and blue lupines poke out of the grasses which, along with large, shelf-like oyster mushrooms make the forest seem almost fairy-talish. 

“Do you know?”

“Two miles. Maybe three.” I look up from the brilliant green.

“That’s pretty far, right?” Benny tugs on my hand.

I nod. We are silent for a moment as we hike up a small hill.

“Eira?”

“Yes, Benny?”

“Do you still think this is a good idea?” 

“Why?”

“It’s just, I’m not sure I can do it. My backpack hurts, and Aella said there’s lots of bears here. Big ones.”

Aella laughs. “Ooh! Are you afraid, Benny? The big bears are gonna get you!”

“No!” He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s just I’ve never been on an adventure like this before.”

“You call this an adventure? I don’t call walking with heavy backpacks any kind of adventure. I’d much rather be at home watching TV or planning a real adventure.”

I stare at her and shake my head.

“Eira, why did you come to stay with us?”

“That’s probably rude, Aella. You haven’t got to tell us.” Benny reaches out to hold my hand.

“It’s alright. My grandparents were getting too old to take care of me, so I went to social services, and my grandparents went to a nursing home.”

“What happened to your parents?”

I stop walking.

“Wait.” Benny points to the side of us. “What do you think that is?”

“Clearcutting.” I follow his gaze. “We’re right next to the National Forest Service Boundary.”

Where Benny is pointing lies a clearing of tree stumps.

“But it’s huge!” Aella says.

I nod. 

“They can do that?”

“The National Forest Service doesn’t usually clear cut in California, but it could've happened a while ago.”

“Why?” 

I shrug. “To sell the wood, to make room for development, anything. Almost everything has some wood in it.”

Benny and Aella stare at the opening in silence.

“Can we keep going? I don’t like it here.” Benny reaches for my hand.

I nod, and we start back up the hill.

“Where are we going today?” Aella runs to catch up to Benny and I. 

I glance back to confirm Aunty is only a few paces behind before answering. “I think you’ll like it. It’s only two miles out.”

“But then we’re going right back?”

“Yeah, back to camp.”

“So this is our big stopping spot? That sounds fun!” Benny grins. 

“I guess so.”

“How far do we have to go?” Aella does not seem nearly as excited.

“Actually,” I pause dramatically. “Look right there!” I point to an opening in the trees only a small distance away.

In a few minutes, we arrive. 

Aella is forced into a rare silence.

Benny sinks to the ground.

“What is it?” Aunty walks up behind us.

I point ahead.

We stand only a few yards from a drastic drop. Forward lies the expanse of Yosemite Valley. 

Aunty whistles. “Those are some cliffs.” The gray-white cliffs tower thousands of feet above the valley floor, expanding far enough to grow blue in the distance.

“Wow,” Aella breathes. I couldn’t agree more. Instead of jagged edges and steep rock walls, the sides of Yosemite valley sink elegantly to the floor, with graceful curves and gullies.  

“Do you see that down there?” Benny stares down at the valley floor.

“There are a lot of trees.”

“And they’re all so small!”

“What’s that?” Aella asks after a moment.

“What?”

“The shiny white squares down there.”

“It’s a building,” I tell them. “Or a car.”

“Is the gray thing a road?” 

“Probably.”

“And why is there trash up here?” Aella holds up a beer can.

“People.” I frown. 

We are silent for another minute.

Benny finds another piece of trash to examine. “Can we keep going?” He asks.

I follow Aella and Benny into the dark tent, my body craving the thought of a warm sleeping bag.

“Eira?”

I turn.

“Do you wanta talk for a minute?”

I zip up the tent door to join Aunty in a camping chair.

“So. Why don’t you tell me something about yourself?”

I switch off my headlamp to stare at the stars. “What can I tell you?”

“Anything. What about your parents?”

“They died when I was seven. I don’t remember much.”

“Well, what do you remember?”

“I know they loved the wilderness. That’s all, really.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I think my earliest memories were outside. I remember one -- I’m not sure how old I was, I must’ve only been five or so--when my dad and I were walking on a trail. My father pointed out a tree stump and said to me, ‘Eira, do you see that?’ 

“I told him I did. 

“Then he said something like, ‘This is very important to me, Eira. I want you to look at that stump and tell me what you see.’

“I shrugged. ‘A stump.’

“‘But look more closely. What do you see?’

“I studied the stump. ‘It’s got lots of brown circles in the middle.’

“‘Very good, Eira. Perfect. Those rings grow every year a tree is alive. Some years, if there’s a drought, the ring is thin, and some years it’s uneven because of insects or hardship, but every year it grows.’ 

“‘There’s so many years!’

“‘Yes. This tree may have been over a hundred years old before it was chopped down. Since we’re near Yosemite, that means this tree was here when Yosemite first became protected, when it became a national park, here during World Wars one and two, and here when I was born!’ He pointed to the outer end of the stump. 

“‘Where am I?’

“‘Well, you're five, so count five rings out.’

“I did, and I was amazed by how close my ring was to the bark.

“‘See Eira, this tree stump has seen generations of people come and go, and all the trees around us will continue to do so for generations to come.’

“I thought about it differently after that. Trees and all of nature. I can’t describe it. I sort of realized how long it would all be there compared to us. But how much we could destroy despite that.”

Aunty pats my arm. “I understand. You really are a good storyteller! What about your mother?”

I lean back. “She was so passionate and sweet. Not afraid of mudd or danger. She was the one who brought me to a stream and dared me to swim, and accepted the thousands of mud pies I made for her.”

Aunty smiles and takes a can of beer from her pack.

“I told you you shouldn’t bring that.”

“I know. But it’s not too heavy.”

We stare at the stars together.

“What about you?”

Aunty sighs and I watch her breathe in the moonlight. “My childhood must have been the opposite of yours. Shiny buildings, shiny dresses, shiny smiles. And then I married Liam, and he was shiny too. Obviously, the marriage wasn’t.” She laughs and takes a drink of beer.

I wait for her to continue.

“He wouldn’t talk about anything Goddamn important! When he didn’t come home from work till morning, all we said to each other was ‘good to see you’, and then ‘love you, honey’, when we left again.”

“How’d you break up?” I find the courage to ask.

“It was Aella, actually. She’s braver than any of us.” Aunty takes another drink of the brown liquid. “She told me one morning. Just straight up, ‘I don’t think you love dad, mom.’ And then suddenly I knew it too. And then it was over. I signed the divorce papers, took the kids, and he went off to his new shiny bride. Then I started to drink.” She puts a hand around my shoulder. “Sorry to tell you that, hon.”

“No, don’t be.” I twist a piece of grass around my finger. “I get it.”

I can feel her eyes probing mine through the darkness, trying to make sense of my answer. Trying to locate my soul.

Good luck, I think to myself. I’m still looking too.

“Well,” Aunty says. “Do you think it’s time for bed?”

“Yeah.” 

I follow her to the comfort of our sleeping bags.

Birds chirp gaily in the branches above me, the grass I step on is greener than emerald, the pine trees on either side of my trail waving their branches down at me in the summer wind.

I laugh aloud and listen to my voice echo in the gurgle of a stream some distance away.

“I know!” Aella runs to greet me. “It’s actually pretty great here, isn’t it?”

“Beautiful.”

She walks beside me. “Eira?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“What did happen to your parents?”

I walk a few steps in silence.

“Eira?”

I turn to face her. “I don’t know, okay? You’ve got to learn that somethings should be left be. I don’t know what happened to my parents, and I’ll never know, so you’ve just gotta stop asking, alright?”

Aella stares at me as if she has been slapped. “Sorry.” She kicks some dirt over her shoe.

I start walking again. She follows me. I inhale deeply. “Sorry, Aella.”

She shakes her head and stares at the ground.

The silence breaks me. I can’t turn another girl into myself. “I could have asked... what happened to my parents, I mean. But no one thought to tell me. They just took me to my grandparent’s house, and told me I lived there now.” If I had more courage, I would have added how many times social workers had asked me if I wanted to know what happened, how many times I stared at my feet and stayed silent.

“But then how do you know they're dead?” Aella starts to talk faster, her voice growing in pitch. “They could have been alive all this time just waiting for you to find them! You could really have parents! Or-”

“Their dead, Aella. I know that.”

She stops talking. “But Eira?” She asks after a minute. “Do you want to know what happened?”

I don’t answer.

“We could ask your grandparents.” She speaks slowly. Carefully.  “My mom wouldn't mind driving us.”

My eyes stay forward. I don’t respond.

“Don’t you think so?”

“Maybe we could.” 

Aella grins.

“But don’t expect anything. It was probably just a car accident. Something boring.”

Aella shrugs. “What’s that?”

“The parking lot. We made it!”

“Yay!”

Aunty and Benny come up behind us. “Well would you look at that.” Aunty whistles. “How was it, kids?”

“Hard, but fun.” Aella walks ahead to open her car door. “It was sorta exciting… I dunno. Like an adventure. From one of those shows I watch, but real.”

“Totally, Aella!” Aunty helps Benny unstrap his pack and shoves it in the trunk. “And it was so different from the city! So much less stressful, without all that noise! Don’t you agree, Eira?”

I nod.

“What did you think, Benny?”

“It was pretty good. I know I shouldn’t complain, but my shoulders do hurt. So does my backpack. But mom?” Benny tugs on his mother’s sleeve. “Can we go on another one soon?”

We all laugh.

Part Two

G randma? Grandpa?” I try to make out shapes through the window’s tinted glass. 

“Eira dear! I didn’t know you were coming.” My grandmother pulls open the door. “Come in!” 

The apartment smells distinctly of the elderly, cat droppings, and ginger tea. The walls are an unfeeling white, the rooms impersonal, the carpet stained yellow. 

Grandma leads me to a gray sofa where her husband sits. The apartment fits well with my grandparents, who also smell of ginger tea and cat litter. They also seem impersonal, but shriveled, and bent -- undoubtedly old. “Is there someone behind you dear?” Grandma’s voice trembles slightly as she speaks, one gnarled finger pushing glasses up her nose.

“I’m Aella. Eira’s new sister.” Aella reaches out a hand.

“Oh, hello there!” My grandpa shakes it, puffing a pipe.

“The doctors said you shouldn’t do that,” I say.

“Oh, the doctors say, the doctors say,” Grandpa takes another puff and laughs. “I’m going to live it up, my girl! Live up the little I’ve got left!”

“Grandma? Grandpa? I want to talk about my mom and dad.” I sit on the sofa, watching Aella drop onto a bench by the door. 

“They were good people, my girl. The best kind.” Grandpa pats my leg.

“What were they like?”

“Generous, kind. Happy with their lives,” Grandma says.

“Yes, my dear.” Grandpa smiles at his wife and takes another puff. “The best sort of people. The ones who would cry at a starving puppy on the side of the street. Who knew the world was broken, but they could help fix it.”

“And they loved you, darling. Even more than the outdoors.”

Grandpa chuckles. “That’s no small feat.”  

“But I want to talk about something else.”

My grandparents stare at me in silence. “What do you want to know, dear?” My grandma’s folded hands shake in her lap.

“I need to know how they died.”

Neither answer for over a minute. 

Aella stands. “She needs to know! She’s their daughter! You should have told her right when she came to stay with you!”

My grandparents glance at each other. “It was a long, long time ago, my girl. Perhaps the past should stay in the past.”

I shake my head slowly. “I need to know.”

“Calvin, tell her.”

Grandpa gives grandma one final glance before answering. “They were in Mexico that day. Staying in this beautiful rental by the beach. You, my little girl, were with us. We thought we were giving your parents a rest without you, another honeymoon of sorts.”

Grandma shakes her head. “We were so wrong.”

Grandpa nods. “It was a gunman who got him. It was early in the morning, just before some event they had planned. She says he knocked on the door. When your father opened it, he shot ‘im. Right in the face. No warnin’. No nothin’. Just a bullet.”

“That’s so awful.” I am silent for a moment. “But what about mom?”

I watch my grandparents' hands clasp one another. “The shooting broke her. When she came home, she was so desperate. Your father wasn’t our child, of course, but we were devastated too. Your mother though,” Grandma shakes her head. “She just lost it. We all decided you were better with us. We told the social workers, and your mom didn’t resist.”

“But you lied to me!” I am startled to find tears dripping down my face. “How could you?”

“It was for your own good, dear.” My grandmother clutches my shoulder. 

Words evade me. I sink into my grandmother’s chest.

“But I don’t understand,” Aella says. “Why did they kill him?”

“Do you want to know, darling?” Grandma pushes away a loose strand of hair from my face.

“Yes.”

“The environment, my girl,” Grandpa pats my knee. “Always the environment. They went to Mexico for some protest about...What was it Adeline? Deforestation? Air pollution?”

“Both,” my grandmother corrects. “Mexico was expanding an automotive factory in the forest near Mexico City. Of course, that would result in deforestation, air pollution from the building, and the cars made there would result in even more pollution. But you know that deary, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Hear this, girls.” My grandpa draws a long breath through the pipe. “Before your father left, Eira, he told me something interesting. Wait a minute…” He reaches under the couch to pull out a pile of old journals and set them on the coffee table in front of the sofa. “I’ve got it here somewhere…” He flips through the first notebook’s pages. “Ahh! Here it is. ‘Mexico City fails to meet WHO standards on air pollution. Air pollution kills more than thirty three thousand people a year. Much of this pollution is caused by car emissions.’ Then it says Mexico has an annual loss of three hundred eighty thousand acres of forest and jungle. Boy, that certainly is some!”

“But why’d they kill dad?”

“He had spoken at the protest, and the native people in the area supported him. But there were always people for the factory and against the forest. It’s the way of the world, my girl. The way of the world. Always fighting. 

“The government looked for the murderer for a while, but after a few months, they decided it was hopeless. Your mother wanted to keep going, but they thought she was crazy.” 

“Do you understand, deary?”

“No,” I wipe tears from my eyes. “Not at all. I won’t ever. I-I wanta go now.”

“Alright. We love you, dear.”

I nod, grab a tissue from the coffee table, and hurry out the door.

“I’ve got to tell you something, Eira,” Aella says when we climb into the car.

“What?” I rub my eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not wanting to go on the backpacking thing. And I know when you got here, I was sorta… Unwelcoming. I think I was kinda mean.”

Aunty Amica starts the car, humming, seemingly oblivious to Aella’s words.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it wasn’t. It’s just, I thought you were one of those people everyone calls ‘nice’ and’s super boring. But you’re not like that. You’re more interesting than me. And brave.”

“I’m not.” I finish clearing my eyes. “But thanks for saying so. No one’s really like that.”

* * *

I stand at the third new door in only a few weeks, heart quivering in my chest. I’ve imagined this moment for so long. I’ve had dreams of tears and hugs. But after speaking to my grandparents, I can only imagine screams. How could she abandon me?

I squeeze my eyes shut. It would be too embarrassing to cry before I’ve even opened the door.

Don’t be a coward, Eira. You’re going to start being brave. I open my eyes. I ring the doorbell.

“Who is it?” A slender woman opens the door. She looks just like me: pale and dark-haired. But also confident. 

“Mom?” I hope she can’t hear the tremble in my voice. “It’s Eira.”

“Eira?”

I nod.

“That’s really you, my darling?” 

“It’s me.” 

She embraces me. I feel quiet tears slide down my neck. “ ’Course it’s you.”

I smile and press my head into her shirt, hugging her with all my might. 

“I’ve missed you, sweetheart. I’ve missed you so much. I’m so sorry.” 

I want to scream. I want to pound my fists against her chest and demand answers. But I can only cry. “I’m sorry.” 

She shakes her head. I let myself cry in her arms. 

“Darling,” she -- my mother -- finally chokes out, releasing me. “Come in. Sit!”

I do as instructed and take the tea she hands me. “I’m sorry.” I twirl the tea with my spoon.

“What for? Sweetheart, we’re together now, and I should say sorry. I’m the one who couldn’t find the strength to keep you. Mommy’s branches should be strong enough to hold you, dear.”

“No, listen. I should have found you. I could’ve asked! I should’ve been brave!”

“You are.” She takes the teacup from my hand and bends to look into my eyes. “You’re brave. You’re my hero. Sweety, do you know what woke me up all those mornings without your father? What kept me from burying myself in alcohol? The thought of you, darling. You.”

“But I should’ve been there with you!”

“No. We’re together now. That’s what matters. That’s always what matters. Nothing else.”

I fall into her open arms.

“You know,” Mom says after a minute. “They did build that factory your dad died for. And there’s lots of illegal deforestation in Mexico, and air pollution. But there’s factories going up in America too. I heard it’s much safer to protest here.”

I smile.

“In your father’s spirit?”

“In dad’s spirit.” I shake her hand.