Shannon's Odyssey

By S.M. Stevens

Shannon Simpson has a kind soul, sometimes questionable judgment, and courage to spare. And she has no idea she can communicate with animals when she sets off on a 100-mile trek through the forest seeking her long-lost grandmother.

Finding

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.M. Stevens
• Release date: Oct 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798868909139

S.M. Stevens

S.M. Stevens began writing fiction during back-to-back health crises: a shattered pelvis and ovarian cancer. Her focus is contemporary adult novels that make you laugh, cry and think, but she also dabbles in short stories, script-writing, essays, and novels for Young Adults and Middle Graders. Follow her at www.AuthorSMStevens.com.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Open it. I know you’re going to love it, Shannon’s mother said, leaning forward from her perch at the picnic table, her straight auburn hair swinging over her shoulders.

The excitement in her mother’s voice almost made Shannon excited too, but the gift box was too small to hold what Shannon really wanted.

Go ahead, her father encouraged, licking purple frosting off his fingers and running his hand through his shaggy brown hair.

Shannon opened the top of the box. Oh, it’s a turtle, she said softly. A stinking turtle, she thought. It didn’t have fur. It didn’t have floppy ears. She brought the box closer and peered at the tiny head. Did it even have ears at all?

She tossed the box onto the picnic table where it landed with a thud. She wanted to check and make sure the turtle was okay, but didn’t want her mother to think she cared.

Terri glanced at Bob. I think I’ll get more punch, she said, walking into the house. When the back door shut, Shannon exploded.

Dad, come on! You know all I want is a puppy. Why, why, why can’t you guys ever give me what I want?

Shannon, I know it’s not a dog, but it’s a start, he said. And it’s a lot less work than a dog.

You know I can handle a dog. I’m twelve years old now! What am I going to do with a turtle? I can’t play ball with it, can I? I can’t snuggle with it in bed, and I sure as heck can’t take it camping with us.

He pulled her into a massive hug. He always said he learned how to give bear hugs from a bear he met in the woods when he was out logging for work. Shannon believed him until she was seven, when she realized he was joking. Still, she pictured her dad as a big, furry bear when his arms swallowed her up, the brown stubble on his face making her cheek itch.

I tried, Shana-banana, I really did, he said into her shoulder. Your mother just isn’t ready for a dog in the house yet. Shannon pulled away to look at him.

What about me? You know I’ve wanted my own dog forever. The only thing I’ve ever wanted more is --

I know, he interrupted. A little brother or sister. I’ve told you a million times, that’s not something you can just ask for.

I know where babies come from, Dad, and I know it’s not that hard to make one.

Bob didn’t smile. That’s not my point. It hurts your mother when you keep asking for a baby brother or sister, so you need to stop. I thought we put this behind us years ago.

We did, but that’s when I thought I might get a puppy instead. Now, I guess I’ll never get either one. Shannon turned away and stomped off into the woods edging her backyard.

Walking along on a narrow trail, she scuffed her feet in the dirt, making little dusty clouds that settled on her brand new, white sneakers. Scowling, she drew back her right foot and kicked a rock that dared to enter her path. The jagged stone stung like a bee, making her black mood even blacker.

She swore to herself and moved faster into the overgrown section of the path. She pushed aside the larger, leafy branches but let the skinnier ones scrape across her face and arms. When the path disappeared, she took sixteen steps through the brush—it always took sixteen steps—and came out on the bank of a small, clear brook—her secret place.

Shannon came here when she was happy, to be alone with the trees and tadpoles, and she came when she was upset. The mixture of disappointment and anger coiling like a snake in her stomach erupted from her mouth as she yelled to the bullfrogs and birds, It’s not fair! She spit some of her anger into the brook and watched the glob of white foam slide away on the gentle current.

Shannon was angry a lot these days. She was mad that she couldn’t ride her bike to the store by herself, mad that her father wasn’t home more, and sometimes even mad at herself for being mad without a good reason why.

Thinking about the puppy again, disappointment overtook her anger. Shannon threw herself down on the scratchy grass beside the brook, her forehead on her crossed arms and her shoulder-length ringlets making a curtain around her face, while her tears dripped silently.

Chapter 2

That was Thursday. By Friday, Shannon had forgotten all about being angry because she was sleeping over at Libby’s house that night, for the first time.

Being at Libby’s house was even better than just being with Libby—it was noisy and confusing and fun. At Shannon’s house, her mother didn’t care if Shannon made noise, but there was only so much sound one girl could make.

The only noise Shannon’s mother made was when she sewed, the machine humming and the pedal clacking. Years before, Shannon had heard her mother tell her father it was easy taking sewing jobs from home because Shannon was so good at occupying herself.

Shannon hadn’t known what that meant, so Libby looked up occupy in the dictionary. The only definition the girls understood was to live in. Shannon couldn’t figure out how she could be good at living in herself.

If she wasn’t sewing, Shannon’s mother was cleaning or cooking. She never had time to play ball or a board game. When Shannon was six, she had tried to help out, standing on a chair at the sink to wash the big serving bowl she found on the counter. She used lots of soap to get it extra clean. But when she rinsed it, the slippery bowl flew out of her hands and smashed on the kitchen floor.

What are you doing? her mother had exclaimed. That bowl wasn’t even dirty! She wasn’t really mad, though. She never got mad. She just wasn’t happy.

You don’t know how good you have it, Shannon complained to Libby Friday night, sitting on the floor of her friend’s bedroom. Shannon twirled a lock of hair around her finger while Libby shuffled a deck of cards.

Puh-leze, are you kidding? Look at this tiny room I have to share with Julie. If my mom’s next kid is a girl, she’ll probably have to squeeze in here, too, Libby said.

But your mom is so nice. And happy. I think Terri’s official job is to torment me. Shannon always used her mother’s first name when annoyed. Remember when she wouldn’t let me take the training wheels off my bike until a year after everyone else did? That was mortifying.

Libby bent the cards into a bridge and let them flutter down. Okay, I admit your mother is a little over-protective.

Sometimes I wish she would just go away. Shannon whispered. Not forever, but for a while. Then I could go logging with Dad and spend more time with him and be outside all the time, not worrying about getting cold, or hurt. Does that make me a terrible person?

Let’s play War, Libby suggested, anxious to change the subject and improve Shannon’s mood.

Do you know my dad had to beg her to go out to dinner tonight and let me come here? said Shannon, unwilling to drop the topic.

Libby sighed. Maybe she was tired.

Libby, she’s always tired, or sad, or busy. I can’t take it. Yesterday, I heard them talking in the kitchen about going out, and my dad was reminding her that she promised to relax a little when I turned ten, and I’m twelve already! He said, ‘We’ve made it this far and nothing horrible has happened. It’s time to start living again.’ What do you think that means?

I have no idea, Libby shrugged, but it got you over here, didn’t it? Now, let’s play cards.

An hour later, when the phone rang downstairs, Shannon and Libby ignored it. Their game of War had become a vicious battle, Libby’s braids swinging madly to and fro over the cards on the floor between them and Shannon regularly shouting Take that! or Dang!" depending on which girl had won that hand.

When Mrs. Carter came and stood in the doorway of Libby’s bedroom, they didn’t pay attention to her either. Libby figured her mom was going to tell the girls it was bedtime. Shannon was losing and couldn’t pull her eyes away from the cards.

Shannon, Mrs. Carter said. The girls finally looked up. There’s been an accident.

Chapter 3

Mrs. Carter kneeled on the pale blue rug and put her hand on Shannon’s shoulder. Your parents were driving home from the restaurant and they were in a bad car accident. They’re in the hospital. Bob’s old pickup didn’t have airbags and they were hit head on— Mrs. Carter’s voice caught.

Shannon stood up too fast and got dizzy. Her mouth suddenly felt like she hadn’t had a drink of water in days.

What? Shannon asked. They’re in the hospital? Now?

Libby came over and put her arm around Shannon while staring at her mother.

Yes, that’s right, Shannon, they’re in the hospital. I’ll take you there if you want, but they won’t be able to talk to you. Would you like to see them tonight, or wait until tomorrow? Mrs. Carter’s voice sounded funny, like she was far away.

Um, I want to go. But what do you mean, they won’t talk to me?

They’re both unconscious—in a coma, the doctor said. Do you know what that is?

It’s like sleeping, right?

Sort of, Mrs. Carter said slowly. It’s like sleeping but you can’t wake them up. They can’t speak or hear or feel right now. They will only wake up when their bodies are ready. She took a deep breath as if she were going to say something else, but stopped talking.

Okay. Let’s go. Please. Shannon moved like a sleepwalker toward the door of Libby’s room.

She had never been to the hospital before. A boy in her class went there to have his tonsils out, but he didn’t even stay overnight.

After telling Shannon it was a thirty-minute drive to the next town, Libby’s mother was silent. Shannon was full of questions but didn’t know how to ask them so she, too, was quiet, although her mind raced.

How badly were her parents hurt? If they didn’t wake up tomorrow, who was going to take care of her? What if they didn’t wake up for a long time? What if they didn’t wake up at all? She kept her head turned toward the car window so Mrs. Carter couldn’t see her face. Even without asking them out loud, the questions were making her weep.

The Twin Falls Hospital reminded Shannon of her school, with its long hallways, and green and white squares on the floor. But the hospital was ten times bigger and didn’t have kindergarteners’ sloppy finger paintings on the walls. It was still and bright. A few women, nurses or doctors, smiled or nodded as they walked by.

Mrs. Carter and Shannon took the elevator to the third floor, where Mrs. Carter stopped and touched a sign, dragging her finger down to the letters ICU and an arrow. They followed the arrow to a waiting room that was even quieter than the rest of the hospital. Libby’s mom went to talk to a woman seated behind a desk, and then both women came and sat next to Shannon.

Shannon, my name is Judy, said the pretty woman, who had chocolate-pudding-colored skin and a little accent when she spoke. I’m one of the nurses here. I don’t want you to be frightened when you see your parents, so let me tell you what you’re going to see. They are both unconscious. I don’t know if they will be able to hear you, but I know they can’t see you.

Judy took a breath. Shannon watched Judy’s face as if it held all the answers she needed. They’re both pretty banged up. They’re hooked up to a lot of machines that make funny noises, and they have some tubes going into their arms. That’s so we can keep a real good eye on them, and help them get better as fast as we can. Okay? Judy gave a small smile.

Shannon nodded. Judy’s words hadn’t given Shannon any answers, or made her feel better. They only made her more scared.

Mrs. Carter led Shannon to her father’s room first. From the doorway, he looked peaceful, like