Jackson could see the wolves so clearly. The pups scampered around, tackling one another, rolling in the mud like furry little wrestlers. The grown-ups lounged in the sun like they didn’t have a worry in the world.

  “And then, out of nowhere, this huge grizzly came crashing out of the woods.”

  “Yikes!” Chris yelped. For a second, Jackson wondered if he should stop. Was this too scary for them?

  “Go on!” Nora said, and the others nodded.

  Guess not.

  “The bear was massive,” Jackson said. “I’d say it had to weigh a thousand pounds.”

  He remembered how the bear’s muscles had rippled under its fur.

  “Grizzlies are way bigger and stronger than wolves,” Jackson pointed out. “One swipe of a grizzly’s paw can crack a skull, or slice open a wolf’s belly.”

  “That’s gotta hurt!” Chris said with a wince.

  “Poor wolves!” Mary cried.

  “But here’s the thing,” Jackson said, lowering his voice. It surprised him that the kids were so interested. “Wolves don’t fight alone. They fight as a pack. They stick together.”

  He described how the grizzly went after one wolf, and how the other wolves came up behind the bear.

  “They growled and snarled and snapped at the bear’s legs. They stood their ground, protecting one another.”

  “Did it work?” Nora asked.

  Jackson nodded. “The grizzly gave up eventually. It ran into the woods.”

  “The wolves win!” Chris cried out, raising his arms.

  All the kids smiled.

  “That was a really amazing story, Jackson,” Leonor said.

  “Better than a movie,” Mary agreed.

  Jackson sat back and took a deep breath. He was glad the kids liked his story. But he’d never talked so much in one day in his entire life. He could use some peace and quiet.

  Except at recess the kids wanted to play hide-and-seek.

  “Chris is it!” Nora shouted.

  Jackson played for a while. But as the kids were scattered around hiding behind piles of snow, Jackson realized this was his chance to steal some time for himself.

  He hurried all the way around the back of the school, far from the playground. He squeezed himself behind a shed and sat down. Finally, some peace.

  “You’re a good hider,” Leonor said when the bell rang and Jackson finally came out of his spot.

  The rest of the afternoon crept along. By three o’clock, Jackson’s head was pounding. He couldn’t wait to get home. But as he was putting on his parka, Chris came up to him.

  “Jackson!” he said as he was zipping up. “Want to come with us to Leonor’s?”

  “She has the new Beatles,” Nora said.

  “The new … beetles?” Jackson asked, picturing shiny bugs inside a box. That made no sense.

  Leonor must have noticed he was confused.

  “They’re a band!” She smiled. “The Beatles!”

  How could he know that? And what a dumb name for a band!

  “Wait until you hear their songs!” Mary said. “You’ll love them!”

  “And Leonor has a Hula-Hoop,” Nora said.

  Hula-Hoop? What in the world was that?

  Back in the bush, Jackson could name any bird by listening to its song. He knew every flower by its smell. He could find his way home by looking at the sun or the stars.

  But standing here, Jackson felt completely lost. His stomach started churning again.

  “Come on,” Nora said. “It will be fun. Leonor has some new Silly Putty.”

  Silly what?

  He had to get out of here — now.

  “Thanks,” Jackson said, hurrying down the hallway. “But I need to get back home.”

  He rushed out of the classroom and down the hall. He pushed through the heavy front door of the school, sucking in the cold, fresh air.

  Free!

  He’d made it through his first day.

  He tried not to think of how he would make it through the rest.

  By the end of the second week, Jackson had school figured out. He could remember all the words to the Pledge of Allegiance. He’d learned every verse of “My Country, ’Tis of Thee,” which they sang together after the pledge. He could get to the boys’ room with his eyes closed.

  As for the kids, Jackson had decided it was easier to just stay away. Half the time he didn’t understand what they were talking about. He’d stand there feeling all confused, like a moose calf lost in the woods. What was the point of even trying to figure out what a Hula-Hoop was, or why this beetle band was so great? Soon he’d be back in the bush where he belonged. None of that stuff would matter. He’d never see these kids again.

  At lunchtime he skipped the cafeteria and slipped right out to the playground. He’d pick out a quiet spot behind a giant pile of snow. That way he could eat his sandwich in peace.

  He avoided the recess games of hide-and-seek. When Leonor would invite him over after school, Jackson would make up an excuse. Same with Mary’s ice-skating party and sledding at Nora’s.

  Finally, kids stopped asking him to do things. They didn’t try to include him in their talks about bands or toys or games. They didn’t ask him to tell any more exciting stories about the bush. These past few days, nobody at school talked to Jackson much at all, except for Miss Lawrence.

  Which was what Jackson wanted, right?

  That Thursday morning, the class was buzzing with excitement. Easter weekend was coming up. School was closed tomorrow for the Good Friday holiday. All morning kids chattered about their holiday plans. There were family dinners. An Easter egg hunt. A basketball game at the high school. Ice-skating at the pond.

  But what the kids were most excited about was a big supply ship that would be docking in Valdez tomorrow afternoon. It was called the Chena, and it was coming from Seattle. Jackson had already heard about it from Uncle Solly. His close buddy was a member of the crew. Uncle Solly was hoping to see him while the ship was docked.

  “Half the town will be there to watch the Chena unload,” Uncle Solly had said. “Everyone is waiting for something that’s on that ship.”

  The stores in town were running low on food and other things, Uncle Solly had explained. Fresh fruits and vegetables. Toilet paper. Batteries. Parts for cars. Just yesterday Jackson had heard Chris complaining that the market was out of Twinkies.

  “I’m going to starve!” he’d moaned.

  Pretty much everything people bought at stores in Alaska came from the Lower 48. That’s what people in Alaska called the other parts of the United States — everywhere but Alaska and Hawaii.

  Alaska had lots of trees and animals and fish, but not many farms or factories. Even Mom and Dad and Jackson needed to buy things. Like their parkas and boots, the kerosene for their lamps, their fishing gear and woodstove. And, of course, the extra food they needed for the winter — rice, noodles, oatmeal, beans. They wouldn’t be able to live in the bush without all that stuff.

  Thinking about all this, Jackson eyed Miss Lawrence as she wrote out long division problems on the blackboard. He tried to picture her ancestors trudging across that icy bridge. There were no stores or ships back then. People had to get everything from the land — every bite of food, every scrap of clothing. They invented new ways to hunt and fish. They figured out how to build warm houses and fast boats from caribou hide or the bark of trees. They’d found ways to live, to have families, to stay in Alaska for all these centuries.

  Talk about Alaska tough, Jackson thought.

  At recess that day, Jackson had found a new pile of snow where he could sit on his own. He’d just finished his sandwich when he heard kids talking nearby. He recognized some of the voices — Nora, Mary, Leonor, Chris. They couldn’t see him, but he could hear what they were talking about.

  “The Chena is the best ship,” a boy was saying.

  “Last year I got three lollipops,” said Mary.

  “I got chocolate!” said another girl.

  “I got an orange,” Nora said proudly.

  An orange! Jackson had never even seen one of those.

  He listened as Nora told how she brought it home and saved it for days.

  “What did it taste like?” someone asked her.

  “Like sunshine,” she said.

  Jackson smiled a little as he tried to imagine what sunshine might taste like. Nora always knew how to describe things, Jackson had noticed.

  The kids bickered over when it would be best to meet at the waterfront. In the end they decided on five o’clock.

  “Should we invite Jackson?” Leonor asked.

  Jackson’s ears perked up. Maybe this was one time he’d say yes. He’d like to get his hands on a real orange.

  “He won’t come,” Mary said.

  “Don’t even bother asking him,” Nora said.

  “Yeah,” Chris added. “He hates us.”

  Jackson blinked, like he’d been slapped.

  “That kid’s weird,” said another boy. “What’s with that backpack? Who carries an army backpack to school?”

  Jackson stared at his backpack.

  “Don’t be mean,” Leonor said.

  “Maybe he’d like us if we had fur and tails,” Chris said.

  A couple of kids snickered. Jackson’s cheeks burned, like he was sitting too close to a fire.

  The bell rang. Jackson heard the kids’ crunching footsteps as they hurried back toward the school. He had to stop himself from chasing after them. “I don’t hate you!” he wanted to shout.

  But it was too late for that.

  Because now they all hated him.

  Mom and Dad and Uncle Solly rushed through breakfast. Even though school was closed for Good Friday, they still had work to do on the house they were building. Jackson planned to spend the day doing chores for Uncle Solly. He hadn’t slept well last night. Every time he’d closed his eyes, he’d heard the kids’ voices from the playground.

  “He hates us.”

  “That kid’s weird.”

  “Maybe he’d like us if we had fur and tails.”

  Hopefully shoveling snow and splitting wood would help him clear his head.

  “Jackson,” Uncle Solly said as he was putting on his boots. “You remember that ship that’s coming in this afternoon? The Chena?”

  Jackson nodded. How could he forget?

  “I need you to go down to the loading dock and get a note to my buddy in the crew. I’m not going to make it down to see him tonight. We’re going to be working late at the house.”

  “Uh, sure,” Jackson said.

  Going down to the dock was the last thing Jackson wanted to do. Every kid in his class would be on that dock! But he couldn’t say no to Uncle Solly. He’d just have to avoid the kids.

  Uncle Solly scrawled out a note and handed it to Jackson.

  “Just give it to any of the sailors you see,” he said. “Get there around five thirty.”

  Would the kids be gone by then?

  Jackson hoped so.

  At five fifteen, Jackson grabbed his backpack and headed down to the waterfront. It was barely a five-minute walk. To distract himself, Jackson thought of all the fun times he’d had with Uncle Solly over the years. Heading out of the harbor in Uncle Solly’s little boat, they’d explored the coves and bays tucked between the mountains.

  There was always something to see — a walrus with dagger tusks, dolphins dancing in the waves, furry sea otters floating around on rafts they made from kelp.

  Best of all was the humpback whale Jackson spotted a couple of years ago. It broke the surface of the bay — a massive creature more than fifty feet long. Water shot out of the blowhole on its back before it sank down again. A moment later, it exploded up out of the water. Arching its back, it seemed to hover in the air before disappearing in a shimmering splash that drenched Jackson and Uncle Solly.

  Jackson’s chest tightened as he thought of those happy summer days. He wondered what Leonor would have said about that whale, or how Nora would have described it. Did Mary know any songs about whales? And what kind of joke would Chris have told to crack them all up?

  Jackson would never know. And why should he care?

  Jackson pulled his parka tighter around him as a bitter wind blew from the harbor. At least it wasn’t snowing.

  Jackson came to the end of Alaska Avenue. Just ahead of him was the waterfront. It was like a separate little town sitting right on the harbor — different docks, warehouses for fish and cargo, a salmon cannery where fish were cut up and packed into cans. Jackson could see the Chena floating with its right side up against the main loading dock. It was at least ten times as long as a humpback whale.

  Jackson crossed a busy street and stepped onto a bridge that headed out over the water to the docks. Uncle Solly had been right; at least half the town was here. Cars were parked up and down the street. Kids skipped past Jackson, their parents chasing behind. A truck rumbled by and the bridge shook.

  Jackson stepped off the bridge and onto the main loading dock. Dockworkers lugged crates into the warehouse. A forklift zipped past.

  Jackson walked slowly toward the ship, reaching into his pocket for Uncle Solly’s note. He looked around but didn’t see any sailors to give it to. The only sailor he could see was above him, on the deck of the Chena. The man was leaning over the railing, smiling down at a group of little kids gathered below.

  “Who wants an apple?” he sang.

  “I do!” cried a little girl in a pink hat. The man tossed the fruit down.

  “Got it!” She clutched the apple to her chest like it was a gold nugget.

  “How about a chocolate bar!” the man called.

  “Me, me, me!” a little boy squealed.

  Jackson watched until he spotted a sailor leaving the ship. Jackson hurried over to him and asked if he could deliver the note.

  “Happy to!” the sailor said.

  Jackson thanked him and darted away. Now he could get out of here!

  But halfway across the bridge, Jackson spotted four kids walking toward him. Without a second look, he knew it was Leonor, Chris, Nora, and Mary. They were all laughing. Leonor gave Chris a playful push. Mary and Nora linked their arms together and skipped ahead.

  Jackson remembered those scampering wolf pups he’d watched from the cliff last summer. That’s what these kids reminded him of. A wolf pack. He felt an ache in his chest — a lonely kind of ache. Wait … did he want to be part of their pack of kids?

  No, he thought, pushing the idea away. It was better to be on his own.

  But then why did he want to rush over to them?

  Get a grip, Jackson thought. Those kids didn’t want to see him. They hated him, right? Jackson slipped behind a parked car and squatted down behind it. He’d wait until they were out of sight and then hurry home, just like he’d planned.

  As Jackson watched the kids walk by, those wolves popped back into his mind. He remembered their ferocious growls and snarls when the grizzly appeared. He could practically hear them.

  Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

  The sound got louder.

  GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

  But wait … that sound wasn’t in his mind.

  It was all around him.

  What was happening? Jackson’s body started to tremble. But no … it wasn’t just his body shaking. Everything was shaking.

  Suddenly, a woman screamed.

  “Earthquake!”

  All at once, everyone who had been heading toward the docks rushed back toward the street. People screamed. Parents scooped up their children. Cars slammed on their brakes.

  Jackson started to stand up to join the rush. His heart was beating a mile a minute. But then he squatted back down.

  Earthquakes happen all the time, he reminded himself. There were more earthquakes here in Alaska than anywhere in the lower forty-eight states, even California.

  In the bush, the ground would suddenly start shaking. Trees would sway. Rabbits would dart out of their underground tunnels. Once, some jars of moose meat fell from their kitchen shelves and shattered on the floor.

  But that was the worst earthquake damage Jackson had seen.

  He braced himself against the parked car, expecting the earthquake to stop any moment.

  It didn’t.

  The roaring got louder. The shaking got harder.

  Louder. Harder. Louder. Harder.

  The water in the harbor began to churn and froth, like an evil witch’s brew. Waves sloshed across the bridge. Fishing boats in the harbor bounced around like toys. The Chena strained against its thick ropes.

  Louder. Harder. Louder. Harder.

  The bridge was shaking so violently now that Jackson was bouncing up and down like a ball. His backpack slammed into his head over and over again. He braced himself against the car and glanced around for the other kids. Where had they gone? Hopefully off the bridge and back onto the street — which was where Jackson had to go.

  He managed to stumble to the street. But then he fell again. And this time it was impossible to stand back up. The earth seemed to be alive — rising and falling, twisting and rolling. Jackson felt like he was trying to crawl across the back of a furious, thrashing monster.

  Louder. Harder. Louder. Harder.

  Crash!

  The wooden building on the corner collapsed into a heap.

  Boom!

  A telephone pole fell to the ground, dragging down wires that sparked and hissed like flaming snakes.

  Screams rose above the roar.

  And then came a sound so loud, Jackson was sure his ears would explode.

  WHHHOOOOSHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

  People had stopped running and crawling and were staring back toward the loading dock.

  The Chena seemed to be sinking. And the buildings and docks were crumbling apart and sliding into the harbor. Jackson couldn’t understand what he was looking at. Somehow the land was caving in, pouring into the harbor. But how was that possible?

  Jackson sat there on the ground, blinking hard. None of this could be real! But every time he opened his eyes, more of the waterfront was gone. The warehouse. The cannery. The cars and trucks. And it wasn’t just the waterfront right in front of him. Looking up and down the coast, all the land along the water seemed to be melting away.