Storm Night at Whispering Pines

About This Book

Nia likes lining corners up with corners. At Whispering Pines she checks every tent clip and tightens each guy line until it hums, and the tidy little campsite settles her shoulders. Around her, her friends bring their own gifts: Arjun's compass bearings, Mei's tools laid in rows on a sky-blue bandana, Sami's knots, Lila's listening, Ben's steady arms, and Ms. Rivera's voice like a trail you can trust. Then, partway along the next morning's loop, the clouds stack into gray pillows, the rain bursts open cold, and the creek rises fast — with their only map fluttering on a branch on the far side of the water.