Summer of the Wolves Read Free Page A

from their lives, for not even showing up for their mom’s funeral, for being gone during a time when everything in their world had turned upside down, inside out, and backwards.
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    Nika’s teeth knocked together as the small plane erupted into a blast of sound during takeoff. She gripped her backpack as they became airborne and the roar settled into a loud, vibrating drone. When they tipped into a turn, it felt as if the lake were falling away. She smiled at Randall to show him she wasn’t scared, even though she was. But Randall seemed unaffected, hunched at his window, his forehead pressed against the glass. When the plane straightened out, Nika leaned and watched until Ms. Nordstrom and her minivan became dots on the lakeshore and finally disappeared from sight.
    Beneath them now was a rug of trees stitched through with threads of rivers and patched with lakes. An occasional ribbon of road led to a miniature house. As they sailed above, Nika settled into the monotone of engine sound. The smell of oil and scorched metal reminded her of the service garage near Meg’s house.
    Randall seemed hypnotized by the view. “Wow, can you believe it? It’s nothing but trees down there. Like an ocean.” He smiled at Nika and settled back in his seat.
    Maki handed Randall and Nika large headphones. When she fitted them over her ears, she didn’t like how the engine noise seemed distant and unreal, as if they were in a tunnel at the water park.
    After about ten muffled minutes, Nika released the death grip she had on her backpack, dug around, pulled out her yellow journal, and flipped to the back, where she’d made a taped-on pocket. It held three letters. She picked up the one that had arrived soon after Mrs. Fish’s call. The letter was tattered from being unfolded and refolded by Randall.
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Dear Annika and Randall,
 
I couldn’t believe it when I opened my mail and found the letter from Mrs. Fish. Yes, I am your father’s brother. He was much younger and we weren’t really close. I’m sorry that after he died I lost track of your family.
I was distressed to hear about your mom. I wish I had known. Apparently your mom’s accident happened when I was in Finland and Russia studying wolves. The letter written to inform me must have gotten lost.
I live way up in northern Minnesota now, almost on the Canadian border, where I do wildlife research with wolves. I hope you don’t mind the timing, but it seemed best for you to start your visit before I get busy with the summer season.
Anyway, I will try to call when I can get into town. (Cell phones never work here on the island.) I look forward to your visit.
 
Your uncle, Ian McNeill
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    The thing about cell phones not working where Ian lived was a plus. All of her friends with real families had unlimited text messaging, and being a foster child, she had never been able to afford a cell phone. Visiting the hinterlands, she wouldn’t be the odd girl out.
    Nika remembered how when they first got this letter, Randall had slipped onto the edge of her chair and asked her to read it again. She had felt his shoulders lift as he took a breath and held it.
    â€œHe studies wolves, Nika, real wolves,” he’d said. She had to admit that was pretty interesting but no excuse for losing track of two human children. “And he has the same last name,” Randall added.
    She and Randall had sat together and written a letter back, using a stamp from Randall’s collection that had a picture of a cat. Nika found the copy that Mrs. Fish made of that letter with the others.
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Dear Ian McNeill,
 
Randall and I would like to come visit for a few weeks. We are used to being helpful around the house, and we won’t cause any trouble. Right now we’re staying at a pretty neat foster home, and we hope to come back here later.
It’s okay if you are not around all of the time because I am used to looking