Happy Families by Tanita S. Davis

Author:Tanita S. Davis [Davis, Tanita S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-375-98457-0
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2012-05-08T04:00:00+00:00

Happy Trails

Justin

The air smells like hot asphalt and dust. I get out cautiously, pulling my backpack up on one shoulder and looking at the people leaning on their cars and talking in little groups.

Dad’s friend comes around the car and gives me a huge smile. I give her a nod, taking in her Nordic giantess look. She’s taller than I am, and the long, bare legs beneath her black shorts are tanned and muscular. Her red golf shirt has letters on the pocket that make it look like a uniform.

“You must be Justin. I’m Treva,” the woman says, holding out her hand. I give it a quick shake and drop it, not much in the mood for meeting new people or making small talk.

“Nice to meet you,” I say. Her voice is no lower than Mom’s, and something in me relaxes a little.

“Good to see you again, Ysabel.” Treva smiles, waving as Ys comes around the back of the car to stand next to me. “Boy, you both look just like your daddy.”

“We’re nothing alike,” I’m quick to point out. Her innocent observation doesn’t set well. Right now I’m not ready to be related to my father.

“I’m sure you’re your own man,” Treva says calmly, giving me a half smile. “You ready to hit some rapids today?”

“Rapids?” Ysabel exclaims. “Nobody said anything about rapids.”

“They’re not too intense.” Treva laughs, moving toward her. “There are a couple of spots where it gets pretty fast, but we’re not talking miles of white water here, just a couple of exciting spots. I’ve been a guide for years, and I’ll tuck you up in my boat and make sure you stay dry.”

“No, thank you,” Ysabel says quickly. “I’ll just go with Justin.”

“We’ll probably all be stuck on the same raft anyway,” I tell her. “There’s something like seven people per raft, right?” I turn back to Treva for confirmation.

“Six, usually. We’re expecting about thirty-eight people, and some of the kids will just be non-paddling passengers.” Treva looks up as a dusty white bus lumbers into the lot. “I think that’s our ride to the riverhead. Chris! You ready?”

“I’m ready,” Dad says from right behind me. I twitch, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stiffen. I resist turning around to look at him. His silence since we left Dr. Hoenig’s office lets me know that he’s feeling bad, but I’m not ready to care yet.

We crunch across the parking lot, puffs of dust following. It’s already really dry in this part of the state, and I’m grateful I’m wearing Dad’s old running shoes and not mine as I see a wet swimmer climbing up the bank from the river and watch the fine white dust turn into sticky mud beneath his feet.

I buff the toe on the leg of my pants and then frown. Ysabel thinks I’m obsessive about my shoes, but I just like my kicks to be clean. That’s not an issue, is it? Is Dad this particular about his

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