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The winner eats.”
    Weeks pass and some of the children begin to hope for days when not enough food is served. Others realize they can force a fight by taking an extra roll.
    How swiftly and how well the children learn the lessons they are set.
    -translation by G. Pfeffer

    Chapter Four
    ILLILOUETTE CREEK
    Dad wasn’t real big on me going anywhere with Will, and I got an earful of that through the ducting that goes from our kitchen to my bedroom. He and Sylvia were arguing; I was making my bed—not an everyday occurrence—while waiting to hear the outcome. Will
    would come by in an hour.
    “I’m not saying his dad isn’t a drug-addict,” said Sylvia. “But his sister is the one with custody, and she’s doing a great job raising Will. She brought him here to protect him from their dad.”
    That was the rumor, but I knew now what else Mick was protecting Will from. I heard Sylvia rapidly tapping her foot. She does this when she’s really irritated but doesn’t want to come right out and say you’re an idiot.
    I couldn’t make out my dad’s response, but Sylvia’s foot tempo increased.
    “Sam’s going to Yosemite,” she said. “Will’s a great kid. He’s a good friend to
    Samantha, and we both know Sam needs friends.”
    My dad sighed long and loud; I had no trouble hearing that. Then he conceded. “Long as he gets her back before nine.”
    My curfew was eleven, but I guessed Dad needed to win at something. I smiled. He was a good man. More in love with crops than people at times, but that’s what made him a
    successful farmer.
    My cell buzzed with a text. Will’s sister was coming with us. I frowned and slapped at my comforter, trying to make it lie flat. This changed everything. I kicked a lone flip-flop across the floor. It stopped short of my open closet. Scowling, I walked over, picked up the sandal, and threw it into the back of the closet, slamming the door shut.
    Mickie was fine in the abstract. She’d even been by the house a few times to trade plant starts and gardening tips with Sylvia. But why couldn’t she have stuck to her plan of hanging out at the plant sale all day?
    I sighed. It is what it is.
    Sylvia somehow squashed two six-packs of Gatorade, two bags of chips, and a small
    cheesecake on ice into my day pack. Will was bringing sandwiches. Dad asked me three separate times about my cell: did I have it with me, was it charged, was the ringer on? It was annoying, but I gave him a big hug and told him I’d be fine. Then I saw him frowning at Will and wished I could take the hug back.
    “Samantha, do you get car-sick?” Mickie asked as we finished loading the Jeep.
    “Sometimes, a little,” I admitted.
    “Okay,” she said, “Will drives and you ride up front. Narrow, curvy roads don’t sit well with Will. He hurls if he’s not driving.”
    “Mick—geez,” Will groaned.
    I chortled, then turned it into a throat clearing as I climbed in beside Will. I’d found Mickie’s abrupt manner intimidating in the past, but she was kind of funny.
    We began the drive, crawling through Oakhurst, Sugar Pine and Fish Camp.

    “The Valley’s going to be full,” said Will, pointing at the line of hulking RV’s ahead of us. “How about we stay up top? The high country will be less crowded and a few degrees cooler.”
    “Illilouette?” asked Mickie.
    Will nodded. “Illilouette is this great waterfall that people never see because you have to hike in to find it. Above the falls, there’s a beautiful stretch of creek. Mostly hikers think of it as something to get across, not an actual destination. Which is fine by us, eh, Mick?”
    Mickie nodded, grinning.
    The Jeep gained elevation and the digger pines disappeared; sugar and ponderosa pines took over. Shrubs and greener ground cover replaced yellow, dry grasses. When we reached Wawona at four-thousand feet, the air was fresher, cooler, scented by resinous pine with the hint of horses and barns nearby. I felt excited. “Wawona” and