Amy Noelle Parks - Summer of Brave

I being brave worth the risk?

Twelve-year-old Lilla doesnt exactly lie. Shes justcareful.

To keep her parents happy, she hides how much she hates moving back and forth between their houses, and she ignores her doubts about the elite high school theyre pushing her toward.

To keep peace with her best friend Vivi, Lilla doesnt share that she got the junior camp counselor job Vivi wanted. And to avoid losing everything shes worked so hard for, Lilla doesnt argue when the camp coordinator dismisses an employees harassment as boys being boys.

After all, if Lilla starts saying what she feels out loud, everything in her life might come crashing down. And she doesnt need that.

Exceptmaybe she does.

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Printed in the United States of America

Jacket art copyright 2021 by Albert Whitman & Company

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is on file with the publisher.

Text copyright 2021 by Amy Noelle Parks

First published in the United States of America in 2021 by Albert Whitman & Company

ISBN 978-0-8075-7660-1 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-0-8075-7661-8 (ebook)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Printed in the United States of America

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Jacket art copyright 2021 by Albert Whitman & Company

Jacket art by Jensen Perehudoff

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For my mom and dad, who made me brave

Knox, Vivi, and I lie flat on our backs like spokes on a wheel, each with a dandelion in one hand. Its the last day of seventh grade, and were about to make our Summer Wish.

Close your eyes, Vivi says.

I obey.

Knox huffs in protest. I have got to get some guy friends. Hes mostly a good sport, but sometimes he complains that Vivi and I girl out on him.

You have Colby, I say.

Only because he doesnt know I do this stuff with you two.

Shh, Vivi says as the bell tower tolls. When the last of the five clangs fades, I purse my lips and blow. The wind catches a few seeds and lifts them up into the bright-blue sky, where they swirl about with the ones blown by Knox and Vivi.

Time! Vivi says. She sits up and tosses empty containers to us. Because of her nine-month-old sister, Vivis house has an endless supply of baby food jars. Vivi claimed them for our summer ritual so we dont fill up more landfills with plastic bags. I stuff my dandelion stem in and twist the lid. Vivi does the same, but Knox stays on his back, twirling his stem in his fingers.

No cheating, Vivi says, plucking the dandelion out of his hand and trapping it inside the jar.

Howd we do? he asks.

Bakery, Vivi answers.

Vivi and I leap up, but Knox stays on the ground, eyes closed. Hes always either moving or half-asleep, and its hard to get him to go from one to the other. Vivi and I each take an arm and pull him to his feet.

Dont you want to see who won? I ask.

Its always Vivi. Blowing dandelions is her superpower.

Vivi shakes her dark, blue-tipped ponytail. Neither of you actually wants to win. Lilla doesnt even try.

This is true. Too much pressure.

I like starting our summers this way because of the tradition, but Im not as into winning as Vivi and Knox.

Our game began when we were seven. Vivi and I were walking home on the last day of second grade, and I gave her a dandelion and told her to make a wish, but Vivi, being Vivi, turned wish-making into a competitive sport.

It started with counting pips. Vivi said whoever blew off the most seeds would be the winnerthe one whose wish was most likely to come true. But two years later, Vivi and Knox decided we couldnt trust fate (and blowing) to get what we wanted. So we added a new rule: whoever had the fewest seeds left on their stem got to make an epic wish for the summer, and the losers had to make it come true.

Vivi won (of course) and wished for the Summer of the Lemonade Stand. We set up across the street from the college campus, and I made enough money that Mom and Dad opened a bank account for me because they said it was too much to keep in my cat purse.

When Knox won at the end of fifth grade, he demanded a trophy to give to the person who carried out his wish the best. We claimed a golden bowling ball with little tennis shoes and a goofy grin that Vivis parents got at some kind of ironic bowling party. Id never admit this to Vivi or Knox, but I love its cheerful little face. Not enough to fight to keep it though.

Vivi and Knox rush ahead toward the bakery to start counting seeds, but Im caught by the golden afternoon light peeking through the pale-green leaves. I pull out my sketchbook, not worried about keeping up.

Ive gotten used to walking on my own.

When I lived on the same street as Knox and Vivi, we went home through campus together almost every day. Vivis and my parents work here, and so does Knoxs mom, so the college campus has always been our playground. We went to day care at the lab school, learned to swim in the pool, had picnics in the commons, and one time knocked over a bunch of college kids when we went sledding down the main walkway in the middle of winter.

Im not here quite as often now because last year my parents moved to a neighborhood of smushed-together duplexes on the other side of the college. Sometimes Vivi and Knox still walk with me, pretending its on their way, but its not. This will only be a problem for one more year, because all of us will ride the bus for high school. Wherever we end up.

Our county has two high schools: Morningside, thats the regular high school, and Grover Academy, a little magnet school where you focus on either the arts or math-science sorts of things. Grover Academy uses your seventh-grade test scores to decide if youre good enough to even apply, and we should find out if we hit the cutoffs any day now.

Knox grabs my hand, yanking me out of my thoughts. You fell behind. You didnt hear a word we said, did you? His brown eyes crinkle at the corners.

Vivis eyes are laughing too. You know we share Lilla with her imaginary friends. It was their turn to talk.

This is an old joke, and I scowl only because she wants me to. What did I miss?

What were going to make you do for the Summer Wish. Vivi snaps her gum. Knox wants a physical challenge, but Im planning psychological warfare.

Youre both mean.

And youre a pushover, Vivi says. Its our job to toughen you up.

This is the story of us. Vivi is the firecracker. Knox is the joker. And I am the good girl. Which is another way of saying Im not very interesting.

Vivi always wants Summer Wishes that are good for us. Last year, she did the Summer of Learning a Language, a challenge Knox and I had to admit was fair, since Vivi speaks three languages, and he and I are white kids from the Midwest who only know one. We wanted her to teach us Japanesewhich she knows because of her dad, but, honestly, Vivi is a terrible teacher. Everything comes so easily to her that she got mad when we didnt catch on. But Vivis mom is French Canadian and was on bed rest because of her pregnancy, so she was happy to take over our lessons if we switched to French. It ended up being my favorite Summer Wish, even though I can mostly only say that the ocean is big and that I would like to take a taxi to the airport. (Since I have never actually been in a taxi, its not all that useful.)