The Rising Read Free

the truth was that I wasn’t at all worried about Nicole. She’d killed my best friend because Serena was dating Daniel. He didn’t know that. Worse, at the time of Serena’s death, he’d been ready to break up with her and if he’d just done it a little sooner, she’d still be alive. I hadn’t told him because I didn’t want to put that kind of burden on him. So I had to pretend I was still concerned about Nicole, too.
    â€œIt’s not just worry,” I said. “I feel responsible. Like they’re waiting for us to rescue them and we have no idea how to do that.”
    He put his arm around my waist and pulled me, so I could lean against him. “We’ll do our best.”
    I closed my eyes and tried to block the mechanical roar of the city and imagine my forest instead, the sigh of wind through redwoods, the buzz of thrush and the whistle of marmots, the soft drip of rain. It took awhile, but soon I was able to hear them, and when I did, exhaustion took over and I drifted off to sleep.
    There was still no answer at my grandmother’s place. She volunteered at the heritage center, most recently in project management. She was Haida, like my mom. Mom wasn’t really active in the Native community, but Grandma was. I help her out with festivals and such, but I always feel a little out of place. I’m adopted and I am Native, but Navajo, not Haida. I don’t know much about that part of my heritage, except that it doesn’t usually come with the ability to shape-shift into a wildcat. I’m just special. Unfortunately.
    There was a really good chance, then, that I knew the woman who answered the phone at the heritage center, but not well enough to recognize her voice. And, thankfully, she didn’t recognize mine.
    â€œHi,” I said. “My name is Joy. I know this is going to sound weird, but I’m trying to get in touch with Maya Delaney’s parents.”
    A sharp intake of breath on the other end.
    â€œI know what happened,” I said. “My mom saw it in the paper. We have a cottage near Salmon Creek, so I’d met most of the kids who died, and I wanted to let Maya’s parents know how sorry I am about everything. But no one’s answering the number I have. I remember she said her grandma worked at the heritage center in Skidegate, so I’m sorry to bother you, but this was the only thing I could think of.”
    â€œI’m afraid I can’t help, either,” the woman said. “Her parents are in Vancouver for the funeral.”
    â€œVancouver?” I thought I’d misheard and she’d said Victoria.
    â€œMaya’s grandmother was hoping it would be on the island, but the people who ran the town are in charge, and I guess . . .” She trailed off. “I know they took the parents to Vancouver after the crash. Maybe they think going back to the island would be too much of a reminder. It’s all such a horrible tragedy. I think everyone’s just relieved someone else is handling the arrangements.”
    Yes, I was sure the St. Clouds were happy to make the arrangements. Get the families to Vancouver—farther from us—after the crash. Hold the service there so it would be smaller. Get this charade over with as fast as possible, then whisk them off to parts unknown.
    â€œHave they had the funeral already?” I asked. “I was kind of hoping to go.”
    â€œIt’s the day after tomorrow. You should be able to find details in the Victoria newspaper. Maya’s grandmother has a cell phone, but she’s spending the day on Galiano at a friend’s cabin. A retreat before the funeral. She’ll be out of touch while she’s there.”
    We’d spent time at my grandma’s friend’s place on Galiano. I could get us there, and it was a lot closer than Skidegate.

THREE

    G ALIANO IS THE SECOND largest of the Gulf Islands, between the mainland and