Waiting for Me

By Alison Cheah

Alex can't believe his parents want to move to Alaska in January. For the whole nine days of their drive from California, he can't move beyond the cold dark days and the disaster of leaving behind all his friends.

Busy complaining about what he has to leave, he almost misses what's waiting for him—Alaska-style winter fun, definition-changing friendships, courage-stretching situations, and the dog he's always wanted.

Dangling over everything hangs the big question of who had made the plans for his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alison Cheah
• Release date: Dec 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223216247

Alison Cheah

Alison Cheah lives with her husband in Los Gatos, CA. She loves spending time with her six grandchildren and working with high school students at her church youth group. Her favorite way to spend an evening is reading a good story.

Book preview

Waiting for Me

By Alison Cheah

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Cover Illustration

By Iris Zheng

Chapter 1 –

What’s Up?

Alex Ortiz first realized something was up the afternoon he arrived home from school earlier than usual. Since he and his friends started sixth grade in September, their parents had allowed them to stay after school and play a pick-up hockey game. But that day, Adam was sick, and Ethan had a dentist’s appointment. That only left him and Matt—if you didn’t count Robbie—and nobody ever did count Robbie. He was so large and uncoordinated that the puck hit him far more often than he hit the puck.

It was beginning to rain anyway. So, they went home.

As Alex entered, Dad’s voice drifted out through the open office door. When would you like me to come up? ... I think so. Yes. Can I confirm with you when I get a flight?

Come up? A flight? Alex didn’t move. What more could he find out?

I’ll let you know soon.... Yes. Thank you. Goodbye. Dad raised his voice. Is that you, Alex? I didn’t expect you home so soon.

Alex went and stood in the office doorway. Hello, Dad. What’s up?

Dad built a tower with the magnetized paper clips on his desk but didn’t reply, probably trying to think up a true answer that gave nothing away. No hockey today?

Was that the best he could manage? If Dad wouldn’t tell him, he’d have to find out on his own.

He waited for Mom to come home. Are we going somewhere, Mom? I heard Dad on the phone saying something about flying somewhere, but he wouldn’t tell me what it’s about.

Oh, I’m sorry. We planned to tell you this evening. Dad and I are taking a short trip for our wedding anniversary. You’ll be staying with Grandma and Grandpa Ortiz.

Mom, it’s nearly Christmas. Your anniversary is in the summer.

I know. Silly, isn’t it? But we couldn’t do it in the summer. So now seemed like a good time.

It was okay staying with his grandparents. But that story about an anniversary trip was iffy. Time to develop his detective skills.

Chapter 2 –

Sleuthing

Mom and Dad left during the day on Sunday and were back in time to meet Alex from school on Thursday.

We got you a souvenir. Mom passed a white plastic bag over her shoulder as Alex climbed into the truck. The outside said, Made in Seattle.

He opened it and drew out a navy-blue slouchy beanie lined with brown fleece. Maybe kids wore that sort of thing in Seattle but not here in Santa Clara. Uh, thanks.

Try it on. I want to see how it looks. Mom always said that.

Alex dragged it on.

Mom clapped. It’s so cute. I thought you’d look good in it. And I’m sure it’ll be useful this winter. She shifted back in her seat and stared out of the windshield again.

Alex stuffed the hat back into the bag. Useful this winter? What was she saying? His inner detective suggested an idea worth investigating. The anniversary story was a cover for a voyage of exploration. Maybe Dad had been offered a job in Washington and they were moving up there.

However, that night, as Alex lifted the recycling bin to tip it out into the dumpster, a paper fluttered to the ground. He bent to retrieve it. Because the shape reminded him of the boarding passes they’d had when they went to Arizona to visit Granny Layton, the detective flipped it over. SEA-ANC. SEA must be Seattle, but what was ANC? Then he saw it. Above the airport codes were the words: Seattle Tacoma to Anchorage. Anchorage? That was Alaska—land of snow and darkness. Brrr!

Those sneaky parents. They’d bought him a Washington beanie to deflect him from where they’d really gone. But why didn’t they want him to know they were going to Anchorage?

He shoved the boarding pass into his pocket as though it could give him more information. Silly Mom. She must have forgotten what she’d thrown in there when she asked him to take out the garbage and recycling. If the recycling dumpster hadn’t looked so icky, he’d have climbed the side to see if he could find any other evidence. But it was dark out here. He probably wouldn’t be able to see much.

Before he lay down that night, he extracted the boarding pass from his pocket and slipped it inside his math book, which he left under his pillow. He had a math test in the morning, and Granny Ortiz always said if you wanted to remember what you’d memorized, you should keep the book next to your brain all night. Perhaps it would also give a flash of inspiration about his mystery.

It seemed to work. He awoke with plans for doing his own research project about Alaska. He started when he arrived home from school that afternoon. By dinnertime, besides learning that the area of Alaska was larger than Texas, California, and Montana combined, he’d discovered that it was known for dogsledding, fishing, outdoor adventures, and living off the land.

Seriously? Dad was a geologist, and Alex hadn’t found anything that related to that. Could those crazy parents be considering setting out into the wilds, building their own house, and living by hunting and fishing?

Mom might. But Dad was so practical. He wouldn’t do that, would he? And how would they survive in the snow if their only shelter was something Dad had built?

Dad often talked about fishing with Grandpa when he was a kid. Maybe they’d live on fish. And hunting. Perhaps Dad could shoot a bear and they’d have a bearskin rug on the floor before the fire.

Mom called him for dinner. Hamburgers. Alex had his usual tussle with her about whether he had to have lettuce in his, and as usual, she won. But her burger patties were the meatiest. Hey, Mom. What meat do you put in hamburgers?

Ground beef. But I guess you could use whatever you had.

Could you use bear?

Mom jerked her head around to fix him with a stare, as though he’d taken her by surprise. What made you think about bear?

I dunno. Meaning, If you’re not saying anything, neither am I.

Dad trotted out one of his random facts. The pioneers used to eat bear. There’s over one hundred pounds of meat in a black bear. That’d feed a family through the winter.

It didn’t tell Alex anything he needed to know, but if he was careful, he could use it to ask another question. Didn’t want them to know he was onto them. The pioneers had to build their own houses, didn’t they? I bet you couldn’t build us a house, Dad.

I bet he could if he had to. Mom bounced in her chair, and her eyes wore their life’s-an-adventure flame.

I say it’s a good thing I don’t have to. Dad’s eyes wore their let’s-be-practical cold-water glance intended to quench Mom’s fiery enthusiasm.

That conversation hadn’t gotten his investigation any further. But as they cleared the dishes, Mom said, I’m going to the charity shop tomorrow. Please tidy your room this evening and see what you want to give away.

She always did that before they moved. And she always expected a garbage bag full. Even though they were still saving for a down payment for their own house, Mom lived in continual hope that the next apartment would bear more relation to her ideal of a forever home. But a noisy neighbor or an inefficient manager or a bad smell coming through the ventilation system always convinced her to look again. Just one more move. I’ve found the perfect place.

Dad would groan and drag the pile of folded cardboard boxes out of the storage shed and he and Alex would pack their personal items, which never increased in number because of the garbage bag policy.

While Alex sorted, he kept his computer open to find out more about life in Alaska. As he read, a nightmarish picture grew of life shut in a little cabin on the windy, snow-covered North Slope, with no neighbors for miles. Sounded wonderful—for a polar bear.

An hour later, when he presented Mom with his garbage bag, the end of the world seemed near.

Thank you, Alex. By the way, before you go to bed, Dad and I have something to tell you.

The blanket of gloom sank lower. When do we have to go?

Mom and Dad exchanged glances. If they thought they’d covered their tracks, they hadn’t realized they were dealing with a determined sleuth.

Dad gave a short laugh. What do you think you know?

I don’t think. I know. We’re moving to Alaska.

Chapter 3 –

On the Way

They set out two days after Christmas on their long drive from Santa Clara, California. Their destination wasn’t the North Slope. It was a small town called Kenai. About seven thousand people, and it has a good middle school, said Mom. Won’t it be an adventure!

At least she wouldn’t be homeschooling him. That had sounded like the only solution in the wild north. And they wouldn’t have to build their own house.

But if it was a town, they’d just be living in an apartment like now. The only thing that would change was that he’d be doing it all without the friends he’d known since they all met on the first day of kindergarten, and what was the adventure in that?

They reached Oregon the first night and set out in the morning in thick snow. The despised navy-blue slouchy beanie didn’t seem such a bad idea now.

Santa Clara felt very far away from home.

Late in the second day, they reached the Canadian border. One car was ahead of them, and Dad switched off the engine. Four states in the last two days. The next one we come to will be Alaska.

Alex counted. California, Oregon, Washington. And recounted more slowly. California, Oregon, Washington. Not four. Three. California, Oregon, Washington.

You missed Idaho.

Alex ran his mind over the state map puzzle he’d played with since preschool. It didn’t make sense. Washington was next to the Canadian border. Why did we go into Idaho? We don’t want to take any longer than we have to.

Theoretically, there’s a faster route if we cross the border north of Seattle. But it’s only two hours quicker, and it’s narrow and windy. Do you want to see the route I printed out?

Dad passed over several pages taped together to form one large map. It was obvious Kenai was west of Santa Clara, but the route marked out had them taking a big loop east and curving back again. Toward the end, they even traveled north of Kenai and back again along a triangle’s two sides. Seriously? This is the best route you could find? Mom, is this one of your lunatic adventures?

The car in front moved away, and the officer at the booth waved them on. Dad produced their passports, and the officer asked about what they were bringing into the country. For a minute, Alex wondered if they’d be there forever answering that question, but when Dad produced the letter offering him a job in Alaska, the officer seemed satisfied. Dad drove through the border. Welcome to Canada. And, yes, Alex, that is the best route I could find. This isn’t California. There are large stretches where there are no roads.

The whole snowy world was pretty much shut down for the winter. Sometimes they were the only car on the road. Then a big rig would come from behind, pass them, and be out of sight within minutes.

Dad, we’ll never get there if you drive this slowly. Why are you letting those trucks overtake you?

Those guys are used to driving on icy roads. Dad didn’t sound as though he thought this was an adventure.

Which was good. Because it didn’t seem much like an adventure. Only Mom still preserved that idea, often snatching up her phone and snapping pictures for half an hour. Isn’t this glorious? Can you believe we get to do this?

As they drove further north, the hours of daylight decreased. By the fifth day, sunrise didn’t occur until nearly ten in the morning. But as the day progressed, the red dusk didn’t fade.

I’m not sure if this is sunrise or sunset now, Dad remarked when they pulled off the road for lunch.

From that time on, the sun never seemed to come out properly, and the light wouldn’t penetrate the truck’s back seat. If this was winter up North, it wouldn’t be much fun.

As if that weren’t enough, Mom had a crazy definition of fun and managed to drag Dad into it. That was how they ended up in the hot springs.

Alex woke the next morning to Mom’s voice. What about Liard? We promised ourselves we would, and we might not come this way again.

Do you think we should, Krissy? The forecast says it’ll be minus five.

Even with his eyes shut, Alex could imagine Dad’s worried frown.

Was that what Amundsen said when he was looking for the Northwest Passage? This was a variant of the question Alex had heard all his life. Was that what Amundsen said when he was trying to reach the South Pole? Mom would challenge whenever he or Dad showed any reluctance for an adventure she was set on. But now that they were up North, she’d modified it to talk about Amundsen’s earlier success, finding a sea route joining the North Atlantic to the North Pacific.

Mom could say what she liked. Dad was right. Nobody should be doing anything if the temperature was minus five. Fahrenheit! But Mom won, and an hour later, he and Dad stood on a snow-covered deck in their swimsuits trying to pluck up the courage to jump into a hot spring.

Mom was in already, her long red hair streaked with ice. C’mon, you two. This is awesome. She waved her arm out of the water, then pulled it down again, like someone settling deeper into their blankets.

But when he stepped down into the water, it was amazing—like submerging in a warm bath.

He’d get Mom to take a photo to send to the other guys. At least this move to Alaska would give him bragging rights.

But the warm water soon lost its appeal. His ears were cold, but if he ducked his head under water to warm them, they’d be even colder when he came out again. And the only way to get dressed again was to climb the icy steps and expose his wet body to the frigid air. He glared at Mom who was dancing up and down, ducking her frosty head under the water and coming up dripping into air that caused little ice crystals to form. Dad’s expression said he, too, had thought about the frozen path back to the truck.

Last one dressed is a rotten egg. Mom threw herself into a rapid freestyle. Dad and Alex followed.

What bliss when they were sitting in the truck with the heater blasting and their hands hugged around steaming mugs of hot chocolate from the thermos Mom had filled at the motel.

Wasn’t that fun! Mom’s head was wrapped in her towel, and her usually pale face glowed red around her nose and cheeks.

I think once is enough. Dad started the engine, and they drove out onto the highway.

You could say that again!

And there’s only one thousand, two hundred, and sixty miles left before we arrive. We’re nearly two-thirds of the way there.

Dad needn’t rub it in. What was Alex going to do for 1260 miles? Stare out of the window? Nothing but snow. Read a book? He’d read through all four volumes of the new fantasy series Mom bought for the journey. Play a computer game? Not again.

He clenched his teeth to keep his complaints inside. Mom had a nasty way of producing something she thought was educational. Last time he said he was bored, she made him listen to a Spanish lesson and wanted him to repeat all the phrases out loud. "Abuela will be so happy if you learn how to