Excerpt from TEAM CANTEEN 1: ROCKY ROAD by Holiday House

TASHA August

The worst part of Camp Happy Hollow was the end‑of‑the summer talent show. Tasha didn’t have a ta lent—playing “Hot Cross Buns” on the recorder in fourth grade didn’t count. That was why for the past three summers, while everyone else had gathered in the mess hall performing TikTok dances and the same ridiculous skits over and over, she’d hidden away in the kitchen freezer, eating her way through leftover five‑ga llon tubs of ice cream.

The summer between third and fourth grades, she hadn’t considered how cold it would be. She’d only lasted ten minutes before succumbing to numb fingers and chattering teeth.

The summer between fourth and fifth grades, she’d remembered a jacket, but forgotten a spoon. Luckily, she’d discovered a ladle in the nearby supply closet and managed to get her fill.

Between fifth and sixth grades, she’d packed an extra sweatshirt. And remembered a spoon. It was nearly perfect.

Nearly.

Now, on the last night of camp before the start of seventh grade, as she sat on an empty milk crate in the walk‑in freezer doling out the pug sweatshirts she’d brought from her cabin— two hoodies and two crewnecks— she realized that what she’d been missing all those years wasn’t the clothing or the cutlery.

It was the company.

Claire slipped Tasha’s pug life sweatshirt over her head and pulled

her mousy brown pigtails from beneath the collar. “This feels a lot like stealing.” She glanced over her shoulder at the freezer’s large metal door like she was afraid one of their counselors would burst through it at any moment. “Are you sure we’re not gonna get caught?”

Tasha tossed a green pugs & kisses hoodie at Raelynn and shook her head. “I’ve been coming in here for years. Everyone’s so busy patting each other on the back over how amazing they are, they won’t even realize we’re gone.”

Back in third grade, Tasha overheard her counselor talking to Ms. Kaufman, the camp director, about all the leftover food they threw away after the campers went home. It took all summer for her to work up the courage to investigate for herself. That’s when she discovered the extra ice cream in the freezer.

Billie’s formidable size prevented him from borrowing Tasha’s pugs not drugs sweatshirt, so he stood there shivering in his thin T‑shirt. “If Tasha’s right about everything in here getting thrown away tomorrow, it sounds like we’re doing the counselors a favor. Less work for them once we’re gone.” He continued fighting with the lid of a tub of chocolate and vanilla swirl, tumbling backward into Raelynn when it finally came loose. She winced when her stash of stolen mess‑ha ll spoons clattered to the floor. “Sorry,” he said, stooping to help her pick them up. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Nope. I’m fine.” Raelynn wiped the rest of the spoons on her sleeve and handed one to Tasha. “You really came in here by yourself the last few years?”

“Yeah. I mean . . .” Tasha glanced around the walk‑in freezer at the others, remembering the tightness in her chest as the entire camp had divided into squads on the first day of camp back in June. Every summer had been the same: that feeling of being shuffled into some random group where no one really wanted her.

This summer, though, when the dust had settled, she hadn’t been the last camper standing. Three other kids had needed her as much as she needed them.

“Until you guys showed up, there wasn’t anyone else I wanted to hang out with.”

“I’m glad we ended up together on Team Canteen. And not just because of the ice cream.” Tasha’s sweatshirt nearly swallowed Claire as she shoved a spoonful of vanilla into her mouth. “I was nervous about coming to camp. I was so scared no one would want to be friends with the new girl. Now I don’t want to go home because I’m gonna miss y’all so much.”

Billie held his spoon in his fist and dug into the tub like he was shov‑ eling through rocks. His close buzz cut had grown out over the summer and was beginning to curl around his ears. “I’m glad your mom made you. And I’m gonna miss all of you, too. You guys are so much more fun than the kids from hockey camp last summer.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m never going back there. I don’t care what my dad says.”

Thunderous applause erupted from the mess hall. The third perfor mance was finished. Tasha swept a tendril of her long, dark hair from her face and began counting on her fingers. “Eleven acts at four minutes each is forty‑four minutes. We’ve got about thirty‑two minutes left.”

“When I need help with math this year, I know who I’m calling,” Raelynn said through a mouthful of chocolate.

Claire held up her spoon, eyes wide. “We’re gonna get out of here before then, right? If we leave when everyone else does, they’ll see us sneaking out, and we’ll get in trouble.” She swallowed. “What if they won’t let us come back next year?”

“We’ll sneak out after the tenth act and wait by the back door,” Tasha explained. “Then we’ll just blend in with the others when they come through.” She dug her spoon back into the tub, pressing with all her might. The trouble with eating ice cream in the freezer was that it never softened up. Still, the extra effort was worth it. “Trust me. We’re not getting caught.”

The friends fell into comfortable silence as Tasha savored the creamy richness of her fudge ripple. Instead of the ice cream making her shiver,

warmth spread through her as she thought about what a great summer it had been.

All that would change tomorrow, when she had to leave her new Team Canteen friends behind and go back home to her regular life.

Her regular, boring life.

Except, wait. What did Dad’s last message say? Something about a surprise waiting for me. A new member of the family. Did Dad and Papa finally give in? Did they get me the pug puppy I’ve been begging for since I was six?

Maybe going back home wouldn’t be so lonely after all.

“Y’all think you’re coming back next summer?” Claire asked, her chin tucked like she was afraid of the answer.

Tasha had been going to sleepaway camp since second grade. Her parents both worked fu ll‑time, and since Papa had spent all of his child‑ hood summers at Happy Hollow, it was the only real option they’d ever considered for Tasha. Back in January, she’d lobbied against going to camp— she was almost a teenager, and way more mature than her class mates. Couldn’t she stay home? But Papa hadn’t budged. She’d attend camp until she was old enough to drive.

At the time, sixteen had seemed so far away.

Now, looking around the freezer at her friends, coming back to camp next summer didn’t seem so bad. “I’ll be here.”

“Me too.” Raelynn tucked a curl behind her ear as she reached past Claire for another spoonful of vanilla swirl. “We should all keep in touch and put in to bunk together if we can.” She frowned at Billie. “I wish they had some coed cabins. It stinks for you being alone with all those guys.”

“The boys’ cabins aren’t that bad, as long as they only make me stay there at night.” Billie shrugged like it was no big deal, but the downturned corners of his mouth told another story. “Just promise you’ll always wait for me at breakfast so I can hang out with you during the day.”

“We’ll always wait for you,” Claire said. “Team Canteen for life.”

After an entire summer in the sun, everyone’s complexion had dark ened. Everyone’s but Billie’s. And while it was true he’d spent most of his

waking hours inside the craft room or the theater, on the rare occasion he did venture outside, he was never without his trusty SPF 80.

Now, though, his almost‑transparent skin was a pale shade of blue.

“You look like you’re freezing,” Raelynn said. “Do you want to go?”

Billie shook his head. “I’m okay. You’d think I’d be used to the cold by now, living in Canada and hanging out at ice rinks my whole life.” He blew into his hands. “Guess not.”

Claire grinned. “Well, you look like a Smurf.”

“Or a blueberry,” Raelynn added. “Like Violet Beauregarde from Willy Wonka .”

Claire and Raelynn dissolved into a fit of giggles, and as Billie shiv ered, Tasha remembered the hot pink boa she’d nicked from the theater workroom earlier that day. She rifled through her backpack, before finding it tucked into the fold at the bottom. “Here,” she said, shoving it at Billie. “Wrap this around your neck. Maybe it’ll help.”

He held it at arm’s length, admiring the feathers. “It’s so fancy. Where’d you find it?”

“Beneath the stage storage cabinet. The big one with the broken lock. I tried putting it away, but all the costumes were already boxed up.” She shrugged. “It’s not like they’ll miss it, right?”

It was so long, Billie was able to wrap it around his neck and his head. He set a hand on his hip and posed. “I’m ready for my photo shoot.”

Claire and Raelynn pretended they were paparazzi, holding invisible cameras to capture his swagger as he strutted around. Their laughter echoed off the metal walls, almost drowning out the sound of approach‑ ing footsteps.

Almost.

“Shhh.” Tasha held a finger to her lips. “There’s someone out there.” She motioned for them to hide in the corner behind a stack of boxes, then flattened herself against the stainless‑steel wall, making room as Raelynn pressed in behind her. Claire tripped over a milk crate, but righted herself and scurried into the hiding spot just as the freezer door swung open.

“Billie? What are you doing in here?” Tasha recognized Miss Janice’s voice right away.

She held her breath, waiting for Billie to respond. He would take the fall before ratting her out. Her pulse sped up as she considered stepping out into the open.

“Have you been—” Miss Janice sucked her teeth. “Look at all this ha lf‑eaten ice cream. You’re gonna be sick as sure as I’m standing here. Now, come on. . . .” The door hinges creaked as the opening widened. “Let’s go.”

The door slammed shut behind them, and Tasha turned wide‑eyed to face Raelynn and Claire.

Everyone was headed home in the morning.

And if Miss Janice turned Billie in to the camp director, there was a chance they’d never see him again.

There was no air conditioning at Camp Happy Hollow. This was a big deal for a lot of the kids. It took weeks for some of them to acclimate to sleeping in the sticky night air. Claire was used to the heat. There was no central air at home—ju st a window unit in her parents’ bedroom. On the hottest of nights, when the air was so still and thick you could barely breathe, Mom would invite Claire to sleep on the floor, but she never slept well there, either. She knew better than to get used to the soothing hum of the motor or the cool breeze raising goose bumps on her skin. There was only so much money to go around, and when her parents had to choose between food and electricity, there was no telling how long it would be till the power got cut off.

So tonight, it wasn’t the heat keeping Claire up.

It was Billie.

Just before the talent show had ended, she’d hidden behind an old cottonwood tree near the mess hall exit, along with Raelynn and Tasha. As Tasha had predicted, they’d blended seamlessly with the rest of the campers flooding into the night. Yet instead of retreating immediately to their own cabins, they’d loitered by the bathrooms— the only place on the girls’ side with a view of the boys’ cabins— to wait for Billie. After almost a half hour with no sign of him, Claire couldn’t ignore her sweaty palms and churning stomach. If she didn’t get safely to her bed without her counselor noticing, she was sure she’d throw up every spoonful of stolen ice cream.

She couldn’t risk getting in trouble. Especially not now that she was part of Team Canteen. Everyone knew scholarship kids who caused problems were not invited to return.

Lying flat on her back in the top bunk, sheet bunched at her feet, staring at the sagging rafters above, Claire couldn’t stop thinking about Billie. Had he gotten in trouble? Did Miss Janice take him to the camp director’s office? Had he been sent home early?

Would they let him come back next year?

She was still stewing about everything she should have done to protect him— if only she hadn’t tripped over that stupid milk crate— when a rustling outside the window made her freeze. She sat up, care ful not to hit her head on the exposed beam, and squinted into the darkness.

There were six bunks in the cabin— ten campers plus two coun‑ selors. Twelve girls altogether. The beds had been arranged around the perimeter, leaving a big, open space in the center for dancing and playing board games. Curtainless screened windows lined the walls just below the ceiling, so the top ‑bu nk kids got way more of a breeze. Snag‑ ging a top bunk as a new camper was nearly unheard of, and although Claire loved the way the air felt against her skin, she’d quickly discovered why no one else wanted her bed: the nearby lamppost blazed right into her face.

The light had disturbed her sleep for weeks. Tonight, though, Claire was grateful for it because along the path to the restrooms, she spotted two—maybe three— distinctly person‑like shapes.

One of them waved using the Team Canteen secret signal— exploding sparkle jazz hands.

Claire glanced at her watch. It was just after midnight. There were consequences for roaming the woods in the middle of the night. Con‑ sequences like losing scholarships. But if something happened to Billie and there was a way to help, Claire needed to go.

Across the cabin, her counselor Aubrey’s chest rose and fell in a

steady rhythm. She was probably asleep, but even if she wasn’t, Claire could always pretend she was going to the bathroom. Still, it was better not to draw attention to herself.

She threw her leg over the end of the bed. Luckily, she was small, and between her petite stature and all those months of sneaking by Dad passed out on the couch, she was able to lower herself to the floor without a sound. She grabbed her sneakers but didn’t put them on. The left one’s broken, flapping sole would wake the entire cabin. Instead, she tiptoed barefoot across the room, careful to avoid the squeaking floorboard beside Aubrey’s dresser. The screen door was the trickiest part, but the relentless ballad of the cicadas helped cover the groan of the hinges.

Warm, moist soil pressed between Claire’s toes with a satisfying squelch, and for a moment, she considered leaving her shoes behind. But there were snakes in the woods— and sharp rocks. She undid the laces and slid her feet inside, ignoring the way her toes crunched into one another. Whispers drifted from the hedgerow beside the footpath, and Claire followed the voices, relief spreading through her when the top of Billie’s head came into view.

She ran across the soft earth to where the rest of Team Canteen sat in a triangle on top of Tasha’s pug blanket and wrapped her arms around him. It only occurred to her as his warmth radiated through her thin nightgown that she probably should have put on some shorts. Her cheeks burned as she thought of him catching sight of her polka‑ dot underpants. Too late now.

“I’m so sorry you got caught. Are you okay? Are they kicking you out?”

Billie hugged her back. He was still wearing the feather boa, and it tickled her nose. She had to back away to keep from sneezing.

“I’m fine.” Billie scooted over to make room on the blanket, and gathered his legs beneath him. “And I didn’t really get in trouble.”

“What?” Claire dropped between Billie and Tasha and pulled her nightgown over her knees. “Then where have you been all this time?”

“Hanging out with Miss Janice down at the lake. Did you know she

starred in a Broadway show when she was our age? She played Éponine in Les Misérables.”

Claire couldn’t help feeling impressed. Somehow Billie had been able to convince Miss Janice he’d eaten all that ice cream by himself, and she hadn’t cared? Something seemed off, like tuna fish on pizza.

“Wait.” Raelynn twisted a blade of grass around her fingers. “So, Miss Janice didn’t turn you in? Not even to any counselors?”

Billie shook his head. “Nope. She was really nice. I think she thought I was hiding in the freezer and felt sorry for me.” He held out the feather boa like he was walking a red carpet. “Before we got out of the kitchen, she asked me about this thing. Where’d I get it? Was I supposed to be in the talent show or something?”

Tasha leaned forward on her elbows. “What’d you tell her?”

Billie laughed, a breathy, gentle sound. “I made up this whole story about it being passed down through my family from my grandma who caught it at an Elton John concert in 1974.”

Tasha rolled her eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did. And she believed me! After that, we started talking about Elton and his music, and somehow musical theater came up. That’s when she told me about Les Misérables, and I told her about wanting to become a set designer.” He unwound the boa from around his shoulders and folded it neatly on his lap. “This thing saved me. Without it . . .” He shrugged. “I dunno. I think she probably would’ve turned me in, but she didn’t. She even said not to worry about cleaning up the mess. She’d take care of it herself.”

Claire couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Billie got all the luck. Raelynn brushed her fingers across the feathers. “Maybe it’s magic.”

Billie raised an eyebrow. “What’s magic? The boa?”

“I dunno. Could be.” Raelynn scrunched her eyebrows together. “This whole thing just seems like more than a coincidence to me.”

Hairs stood on the back of Claire’s neck.

“I mean, just think about it for a sec.” Raelynn clapped her hands

against her thighs. “First, out of nowhere, Tasha found this boa. She tried to put it back but couldn’t. Then she gave it to Billie, who got caught eating stolen ice cream while he was wearing it, but instead of getting punished, he literally had the best night ever with Miss Janice. It’s strange, right?”

A hush fell among them. Claire glanced around the circle at the others. For a moment, it felt almost like she was sitting in a church pew and speaking would ruin everything.

“It is strange,” Tasha said. “And you know what else is weird? The feeling I got when I noticed it under the cabinet in the first place. Sort of like I didn’t really find it at all.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “More like it found me.”

Usually, Claire didn’t like the idea of fate— th ings happening that she couldn’t control. It was better to focus on battling through tough stuff all on her own, without having to wait for luck to intervene. But this was different. “You think it was like destiny or something?”

Raelynn plucked the boa off Billie’s lap and wound it around her own neck. “Yeah, like what if Tasha was meant to find it today because Billie was gonna need a way to connect with Miss Janice tonight ? It obviously protected him from getting in trouble. There’s just no other explanation. She got all wistful‑looking, the same way Claire’s mom did whenever she talked about the way things were before Dad’s accident. “Wonder if its magic would work for me, too.”

Billie nodded. “You should test it.”

“But we’re leaving tomorrow.” Claire’s palms began to sweat. Is Raelynn gonna risk getting herself in trouble again tonight?

Billie offered Raelynn a small smile. “You could take it home to see if it works there. And if it does, you can text us with all the juicy details.”

Tasha cleared her throat. “That’s not fair. I should get to take it home to try it, too. And so should Claire.”

For the last few weeks, Claire had tried hard not to think about going home. She hadn’t known what to expect when she’d arrived at

Camp Happy Hollow back in June, but now that summer was almost over, her chest hurt every time she thought about leaving Team Canteen behind. Tasha, Raelynn, and Billie didn’t look at her the way the kids at home did—with pity.

Then again, they didn’t know what things were really like for her there.

Still, none of that mattered if she couldn’t convince Raelynn not to do something reckless tonight. Sending the boa home with her wasn’t a terrible idea, and Claire didn’t hate the thought of getting a turn with it herself. In fact, having a physical connection with the rest of Team Canteen, something tethering them to one another until next summer made her heart race. “What if we passed it around? Mailed it to one another every couple of months so we all have a chance to test it before next summer?” She glanced at Billie, who met her gaze with a furrowed brow. “Or maybe not. Never mind. It’s really expensive to mail stuff, anyway. Especially to Canada.”

Tasha shook her head. “No, I actually like that idea. And maybe if someone really needs the boa’s power, we can send it to them more than once.”

“If it turns out to be magic,” Billie added.

Raelynn’s eyes widened, and a mischievous grin split her face. “Oh! And what if everyone wears it somewhere public and posts pictures.”

“Yes!” Tasha was practically vibrating with excitement. “And you need to tell everyone where you wore it and what happened.”

As Raelynn described how the plan would work, Claire’s thoughts drifted. What had seemed like a great idea five minutes ago knotted her stomach now.

My photos and stories will be so boring. Where would she even wear the boa? It wasn’t like Mom and Dad took her to fancy dinners or on exotic vacations. The most interesting place she’d been was the science museum in town, and that was only

because Mom had won four tickets from some raffle at the elementary school where she taught.

Her family got by. That was it.

So as the rest of Team Canteen worked out plans for shipping the boa, the temporary relief she felt knowing Raelynn wouldn’t risk testing its powers tonight was replaced by the dread‑fil led realization that for her, this whole boa thing was gonna be a complete nightmare.

BILLIE September

Before leaving Happy Hollow, everyone voted to let Raelynn take the boa home first, since she was the most convinced it was magic. Billie had agreed at the time— he hadn’t wanted to be the only one to object— but now that he was back home, he definitely regretted his decision. If he’d explained how desperately he needed the boa, whether it had magical powers or not, maybe it would be safely tucked away beside his skates inside his duffel, and things would be different.

Maybe then he’d have enough confidence to say what he really thought about today’s hockey tryouts or how sick he was of Chase always ragging him about his hair.

A knot tightened beneath his ribs as Dad pulled the Suburban into the rink parking lot. Billie recognized the Jeep belonging to Jack Waterson’s dad and Nick Gillum’s mom’s minivan. Last year’s team was already assembling near the front entrance, and by the look of things, Billie was still the biggest kid on the roster. If he ended up making the squad, he’d be goalie by default for the fourth year in a row.

Ugh.

“Well, here we are, all ready for the first day of tryouts.” Billie nearly choked on his last bite of Pop‑Tart as Dad clapped him on the back. “Gonna be interesting to hear what the kids think of your new do, eh?” Dad ruffled Billie’s scruffy mop of blond hair. “And even more interesting to see if you can keep up with the kids who went to league camp this summer.”

Dad’s tone was light, but Billie knew a jab when he heard it. Sure,

opting out of Mom’s end‑of‑the‑su mmer head shearing had caused a minor scene the night before, but choosing Happy Hollow over the prestigious hockey academy in Ontario where he and his older brothers went every summer had been a serious point of contention between them. Last winter, it had been a huge win when Mom had convinced Dad to let Billie pick his own camp for a change. Now, maybe not so much.

If Billie didn’t make the hockey team this season, his dad would insist it was because he had gone to “fun” camp instead of “training” camp, and he could kiss going back to Happy Hollow with Team Canteen goodbye. On the other hand, getting cut from the roster would make the school year so much better. Sure, Dad would be super disappointed and Chase would tease him endlessly about being the world’s biggest loser, but without practice every afternoon, there’d be plenty of time to work on costumes and sets for the se venth‑grade play.

Or maybe even try out for one of the leads.

Billie sighed as he climbed out of the truck. Who am I kidding? Dad’ll never let me waste time on theater, even without hockey.

“I’ll do my best,” Billie called as he opened the back door and grabbed his gear from the seat.

“That’s my boy.” Dad passed Billie his goalie ma sk— one of Garrett’s hand‑me‑downs. “Oh, by the way, I might be a little late for pickup. We’re rigging a new gear on the line, and I have no idea how long it’ll take. If they force you off the ice before I get here, just wait near concessions.”

Billie heaved his bag over his shoulder and tucked his stick under his other arm. It was always something at the factory— a broken whosit or a busted whatsit. “It’s fine. I’ll just grab lunch while I wait.”

Dad chuckled and shook his head. “Just like me at your age. Always hungry.”

Billie slammed the car door shut without returning his father’s smile. Their height and enormous appetites were about all they had in common.

Nick Gillum raised his stick as Billie approached the front entrance. “Hey, dude. What’s with the lady locks?”

Billie pursed his lips. Of course Nick would say something. “I dunno.” He ran his hand through his hair, which was nearly long enough to tie back. “I guess I just wanted a change.”

Nick raised an eyebrow and shook his head. Billie braced for the torrent of questions he knew was coming. “We missed you at camp this summer.” Nick’s tone was light. Playful even. “You too good for us now or something?”

“Oh, no. It’s just that I . . . I, u h, wasn’t allowed. Chase hit me in the head with a street puck right before camp, and I was under concussion protocol for like six weeks. It was brutal.”

Billie followed Nick and the rest of the team through the metal double doors. The arctic blast from inside prickled the hairs on Billie’s arms. “Oh wow, man. I’m sorry,” Nick said. “That does sound bad. You okay now?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Billie didn’t like lying, but he was good at it, thanks to years of practice acting tough, exactly the way everyone expected a broad‑shouldered kid in the ninety‑ninth percentile for height to behave. There was a time when he thought if he pretended well enough, he’d eventually morph into an alternate version of hi mself— the kid who thrived on competition and smack talk. Instead, after twelve years, he still avoided confrontation at all cost.

Nick threw an elbow into Billie’s side. “That’s a relief. You’re the best goalie in the league.”

It was true. Billie was an incredible goalie. Not much got past him. But stopping the puck didn’t make him happy. There was no creativity involved. Being a good goalie was just being in the right place at the right time. What in the world did everyone find so rewarding about that?

Billie opened his mouth to respond, but angry voices from just beyond the threshold cut him off.

“It’s right here on the schedule. U12 Hockey, ten to twelve, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. We get the ice.” Coach Franklin was in some woman’s face. Billie had spent more than his fair share of time on the

receiving end of Coach’s infamous tirades, but it didn’t look like the petite woman was withering under the torrent the way he always had.

“That’s interesting, because the scheduled I received clearly says ice capades practice is from nine‑thirty to eleven thirty Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday. And since my skaters are already warmed up and on the ice, I suggest you take it up with scheduling or come back once we’re done.”

Billie’s eyes ricocheted from Coach to the woman and back again as they continued arguing. Behind them, several figure skaters glided effortlessly, gaining speed, and launching into loops and spins.

They were amazing.

That looks way more fun than crouching on the ice like a human shield.

“I’m not sure you want to fight me on this, Bob.” The woman squared her shoulders and lifted her chin defiantly. “Or have you forgotten what happened the last time you tried railroading the figure skaters?”

Resignation washed over Coach’s face. “All right, team. Let’s give Ms. Dallinger’s group the ice. You boys can head home if you want, or wait around until eleven‑th irty. Just don’t be late.”

Beside him, Nick grumbled, “Are you kidding me right now? I got up early for nothing?”

“This stinks, Coach,” someone else complained.

“Yeah. We’re just letting the dancing fairies tell us what to do now?”

Billie flinched.

Dancing fairies was a new one.

Within seconds, nearly everyone had arranged rides, but Billie had no intention of hanging out with the guys any longer than necessary.

No one invited him to go with them, though. Problem solved.

As the crowd thinned, Billie waved goodbye to Nick, who was heading out with Jack, and made his way to the concessions stand. After ordering a hot chocolate, he sent a quick text to Dad about the schedule change, then settled into one of the booths to scroll through Instagram.

But nothing on the app could hold his attention. His eyes kept drifting to the ice.

“Let’s gather around.” Ms. Dallinger clapped her hands, and a dozen figure skaters glided to the center of the rink. Most were girls, dressed in leggings and leotards. There were two boys, though, both thin and wispy, like the willow trees at Grandma’s house. They wore matching scarves folded neatly around their necks.

Billie took a sip of cocoa and leaned forward, straining to see their faces past the bleachers. Did he know them from school? It was hard to tell from so far away, so he gathered his mug and gear, and headed closer to the ice.

“As you know, this year we’re performing Annie on Ice with help from the community children’s orchestra. I trust you all had an opportunity to choose which role you’d like to try out for this morning.” Excited murmurs echoed around the rink. “Great. Julius, you’re up first.”

With a flourish, Julius—who Billie determined had definitely been in his music class in sixth grade—tossed his scarf aside, then waved the rest of the group off the ice. “I’ll be auditioning for the role of Rooster.” He paused dramatically, making eye contact with Ms. Dallinger. “And I’ll be getting it.”

Billie stifled a snicker, but as Julius began his routine, his doubt turned to fascination. Sure, Billie had watched figure skating before, but never like this— so close, the sound of the blades reverberated inside his chest. As Julius glided across the ice, his skates seemed to be extensions of his body. It was hard to tell where Julius ended and the ice began. Billie couldn’t take his eyes off the boy’s hands and the way they fluttered like a caged bird’s wings, perfectly in sync with the jazz music piping over the speakers.

For a moment, Billie forgot about hockey, Dad, and tryouts. The only thing that mattered was Julius and his mesmerizing portrayal of Rooster.

With a final twirl and a spray of ice, Julius came to an abrupt stop, chest heaving, sweat pooling at his brow. At that moment, Billie decided he was going to trade his hockey mask for a pair of figure skates.

All he needed was to figure out how.

TASHA you guys remember that message I got from my dads about getting a new family member when I got home from camp

BILLIE yeah was it a pug like you thought

TASHA no it wasn’t a pug it wasn’t even a DOG my aunt Brenda died and now my little cousin Jillian lives with us she’s the new family member they were talking about

RAELYNN

omg im so sorry about your aunt but what the heck like you just have a new person living in your house with you?

TASHA in my ROOM with me

CLAIRE oh wow I’d be mad as a box a frogs if I was you

TASHA I AM mad but I haven’t even told you all of it yet she actually has a

CLAIRE oh yay

dog and of course papa and dad let her bring it because

you love dogs

TASHA not this dog it’s a monster

CLAIRE like a monster monster? does it bite?

TASHA no it just wrecks EVERYTHING! the first week it was here it ate two pairs of my dad’s shoes and not just ripped them up but ATE them then threw them up it was so gross

RAELYNN ew now this is why I don’t want any pets at my house they’re disgusting

TASHA Papa got this crate for him to stay in so he’s not such a menace but Jillian

keeps letting him out because she feels bad for him and last week he tore up my favorite poetry book and she didn’t even say sorry

CLAIRE that’s so messed up

BILLIE but wait tho aren’t you adopted

BILLIE and jillian is your dad’s sister’s kid

TASHA I know

TASHA yeah

TASHA right

BILLIE so she probably looks more like his kid than you do cuz she’s like biologically related and all

RAELYNN omg billie!!!!!!!!

BILLIE what I’m just saying that must be weird

TASHA no its fine I guess you’re right tho

now that I think about it

she actually does look a lot like papa

RAELYNN

billie say you’re sorry that was so rude

BILLIE sorry tash

hope I didn’t make you feel bad are you mad at me

TASHA no but I gotta go so I’ll talk to you guys later