Chapter One
Pippa
Age five
I slam my hands onto my hips before raising one hand to wag a finger at the small white animal in the tree.
“Roger. We talked about this. Once you get up there, you can’t get back down.”
I let out a big sigh as my cat climbs to a higher branch and gives a long, loud meow.
Rolling my eyes, I step onto the base of the tree and look closer. “Roger?”
He’s pacing. Stupid cat.
I wrap my hands around the lowest limb I can reach and pull myself up.
The next branch is harder, but there are some good places to put my feet on the tree, so I scrabble up. Roger’s still higher than me.
He lets out a wail. He’s stuck.
If I could just climb a little bit higher …
“Whatcha doing, Pipsqueak?”
I freeze before slowly turning around.
My brother, Lucas, stands at the foot of the tree, his arms crossed.
But it’s not him speaking. His best friend, Deacon, waits beside him, one eyebrow raised.
“Roger’s up the tree.”
Lucas snorts. “Why did you ever call your cat Roger?”
“Because I can.” I cross my arms and frown at him.
“It’s a stupid name.”
The branch jolts, and I let out a scream before dropping my arms to my sides and gripping the wood.
Lucas laughs, but Deacon takes a step forward.
“You okay up there, Pipsqueak?” he asks.
“No.” I sniff.
Deacon holds up his arms. “Drop down. I’ll catch you.”
I shake my head. “I can’t. I’m scared.”
“Trust me.”
Lucas moves beside him, reaching out his arms too. “Come on, Pippa. We’ve got you.”
Big, fat tears roll down my cheeks. “I just wanted to save Roger.”
“I’m pretty sure Roger is fine.” Deacon beckons me with his fingers. “Jump.”