{"product_id":"soldier-sister-fly-home-isbn-9781580897020","title":"Soldier Sister, Fly Home","description":"A tender and gripping novel about family, identity, and loss.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Thirteen-year-old Tess is having a hard enough time understanding what it means to be part white and part Navajo, but now she's coping with her sister Gaby's announcement that she's going to enlist and fight in the Iraq war. Gaby's decision comes just weeks after the news that Lori Piestewa, a member of their community, is the first Native American woman in US history to die in combat, adding to Tess's stress and emotions. While Gaby is away, Tess reluctantly cares for her sister's semi-wild stallion, Blue, who will teach Tess how to deal with tragic loss and guide her own journey of self-discovery.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Lori Piestewa was a real-life soldier who was killed in Iraq and was a member of the Hopi tribe. Back matter includes further information about Piestewa as well as a note by author Nancy Bo Flood detailing her experiences living on the Navajo reservation. A pronunciation guide to all Navajo vocabulary used within the text is also included.♦ In this slender, elegant novel from Flood (\u003ci\u003eNo Name Baby\u003c\/i\u003e), half-Navajo\/half-white Tess, 13, feels like she doesn't belong anywhere. Schoolmates at her Flagstaff boarding school call her anmes like Pokeyhontas; on the reservation she looks--and sometimes feels--more white than Navajo. Set against the backdrop of the Iraq War (the book opens with a memorial ceremony for a young Navajo woman killed in combat, and Tess's beloved older sister, Gaby, is deployed soon after), the book successfully presents Tess's shifting emotions as she grapples with the vicissitudes of a close sibling relationship, revels in her daily runs in the desert, and struggles to bond with a temperamental horse. Navajo traditions, ceremonies, and family relationships are described with gentle reverence; even the butchering of an ewe is depicted as a beautiful act. Navajo words and phrases are used throughout in a fashion that always feels natural. Flood lived and taught on the Navajo Nation for 15 years, and this quietly moving story of Tess's growing maturity as she searches for her cultural identity resounds with authenticity. Art not seen by \u003ci\u003ePW\u003c\/i\u003e.\u003cbr\u003e- \u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTess and her older sister, Gaby, siblings who live in Navajo Nation with  their family, are close, but when Gaby enlists in the military, their  bond is threatened. Gaby entrusts Tess with her beloved stallion, Blue,  whom Tess deems unstable and scary. Tess would much rather take in and  experience the canyon while running on her own two legs, yet she makes  the promise to her sister that she will look after Blue. After Gaby  leaves, Tess questions where she fits into the world and how her  biracial identity affects her sense of self. At school, she is seen as  \"the Indian girl.\" Even at home on the reservation, Tess still feels  like an outsider. After spending time with her grandmother, her \u003ci\u003eshima sani\u003c\/i\u003e,  at sheep camp, she begins to realize there are many answers as to what  makes a person who they are. When tragedy strikes Blue, the true  strength of the sisters' bond is tested. Tying in this book with the  death of real-life fallen soldier Lori Piestewa feels a bit forced; the  story would have stood alone without this inclusion. Endnotes suggest  that Flood consulted with Navajo people; however, there is no mention of  Piestewa's family. VERDICT A tender story set in contemporary Navajo  Nation, with themes that will resonate with many readers on their own  journey toward self-discovery.\u003cbr\u003e- \u003ci\u003eSchool Library Journal\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003eWhen Tess' older sister is deployed to Iraq, the  13-year-old is bereft. To make matters worse, she is grappling with her  sense of identity as a part white, part Native American teen--an inner  conflict exacerbated as she splits her time between a mostly white  boarding school in Flagstaff and her Navajo reservation. Racist taunts,  both on the reservation and at school, leave her unsure of where she  belongs. After school lets out for the summer, Tess joins her grandma  for \"sheep camp,\" where she helps care for a flock and experiences  several important revelations. Flood provides a detailed portrayal of \u003ci\u003eShima Sani\u003c\/i\u003e (Grandma)--an iconic figure who can weave Pendleton rugs as well as she  can work the Internet, and herd sheep as easily as she can connect with  Emily Dickinson--who plays a pivotal role in helping Tess bridge the  two cultures of which the girl is a part. Despite some cultural  heavy-handedness, this engaging coming-of-age story will resonate with  middle-grade readers beginning to find their place in the wider world.\u003cbr\u003e- \u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The daughter of a Navajo woman and a white man struggles with her  older sister's deployment to Iraq and her own sense of self.  Thirteen-year-old Tess feels abandoned when Gaby, six years older,  shocks the whole family by enlisting in the military. Worse, Tess must  reluctantly accept the responsibility to care for Gaby's feisty horse.  Flood nicely captures Tess' anxiety as she makes several attempts to  befriend her sister's aggressive stallion, as well as her sadness as a  lone sibling left behind. She feels out of place both at boarding school  in Flagstaff, where she's taunted for being an \"Indian,\" and at home on  the Rez, where kids call her an \"apple\": red on the outside but white  on the inside. She slowly comes to peace with her sister's absence and  her own identity during a summer idyll with her grandmother, taking care  of the family's sheep in the canyon. Tess narrates her story with a  healthy sprinkling of Navajo, and though she is likably earnest, there  is a lot of telling—to Gaby, her family, and readers—about her cultural  clashes with her peers and not enough showing. This story loses its way  by not letting readers into the modern world of the Native American  teenager, who would more likely write rap songs than ceremonial poetry.  At times Tess' grandmother feels more part of that world, with her  purchase of Day-Glo green sneakers, than Tess does. Heartfelt and  poignant, the tale nevertheless feels a little out of touch.\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e- Kirkus Reviews\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003eThirteen-year-old Tess is part white, part Native American, and she lives a split life between her white boarding school and the Navajo reservation. Tess joins her grandma for summer \"sheep camp\", where she helps care for the flock and experiences important revelations that help her bridge her two cultures.\u003cbr\u003e—\u003ci\u003eBook Links\u003c\/i\u003e, included in Middle Grade Mania roundupNancy Bo Flood was a research psychologist and studied brain development at the University of Minnesota and the University of London before writing books for children. She has a special interest in legends and folklore. Her titles include Warriors in the Crossfire (Boyds Mills) and Cowboy Up! Ride the Navajo Rodeo (WordSong). Nancy lives in Glenwood Springs, Colorado.Before dawn, Grandpa stepped into the kitchen. I had gotten up in the dark to take an early-morning run. Grandpa looked at me with eyebrows raised, then lit the kerosene lantern rather than switching on a light. I slipped on my running shoes, stopped, and waited.\u003cbr\u003e             Grandpa reached for his rifle from above the doorway, handling it as carefully as if it were one of Grandma’s newborn lambs. He sat down and reached for a flannel cloth and a can of oil. With a slow, steady rhythm, he rubbed oil into the dark wood. It was beautiful to watch.\u003cbr\u003e             Light from the lantern flickered across Grandpa’s face. He reached into his shirt pocket, took out an arrowhead, and placed it on the rifle. He repeated several phrases in\u003cbr\u003e Navajo, sat silent for a moment, and then returned the arrowhead to his pocket.\u003cbr\u003e             Grandpa revered his rifle nearly as deeply as Grandma did the sunrise.\u003cbr\u003e             Slowly he stood up, straightened out his stiff joints. I stepped out of the way as he replaced the rifle above the door.\u003cbr\u003e             “Going running?”\u003cbr\u003e             I nodded. “I won’t be late.”\u003cbr\u003e             He looked at the round white clock over the sink. “Watch the time, Teshina. This ceremony is important.”\u003cbr\u003e             “If I’m not back when it’s time to leave,” I said as my hand tightened around the door handle, “go ahead without me.”\u003cbr\u003e             “This ceremony is for Lori, for her family.” He cleared his throat. “We all need to be there.”\u003cbr\u003e             My glance met his. Neither of us said another word.\u003cbr\u003e             I stepped out, eased the door shut, careful to not make a sound so it wouldn’t wake Mom. She’d worked the late shift at the hospital in Tuba City and had returned home only a few hours ago. I looked up at my bedroom window. I had always shared that room with my sister. But not anymore. Not since everything had changed.\u003cbr\u003e             Already the light was brightening from dark to gray. Soon streaks of red would appear and a haze of gold would pour over the sagebrush and drifts of sand. Then the sun would lift over the mesa’s edge and start warming up the day. So many times my mother’s mother—my \u003ci\u003eshimá sánı́\u003c\/i\u003e—had reminded me that each sunrise was sacred, a gift, a time to greet the Holy Ones, a time to receive their blessings.\u003cbr\u003e             As always, Grandma had gotten up long before dawn in order to be outside facing east, ready to greet the sunrise. Afterward she began hauling hay and water to her herd of goats and sheep. I walked toward the corral, my steps cushioned by the soft sand. The air was still cool and full of good smells—sweet green hay, smoke from the cook fire, and the sour odor of livestock. Grandma turned, her face brightening as I waved. She continued with her work, tossing handfuls of grain to her animals, calling each by name, scolding the troublemakers. Apricot was easy to spot, because of her rust-colored wool but also because she was always nudging close to steal an extra mouthful of grain. Grandma laughed, pushing Apricot away from the feed bucket. Old Jack, with his long scraggly beard, shoved his head in as soon as Apricot’s head was out. Grandma pulled Jack away and tossed oats to both of them. Then she gave an extra handful to Betty. I smiled. Grandma had nicknamed that goat Betty-Boobsy because Betty made more milk than any other three goats combined.\u003cbr\u003e             I waved again and kept on walking, past the horse shed and the horse corral. Blue was circling round and round, kicking up dust and whinnying his complaints. I shook my head. I hated that horse. He was mean to everyone except Gaby, and he was hotheaded and stubborn. It was his fault that my sister’s ankle had gotten smashed. That translated into no more running track, no more trophies and blue ribbons. My sister lost all chances for a college sports scholarship. Then what did she do? She dropped out of college and enlisted in the army—how stupid was that?\u003cbr\u003e             My stomach did a flip-flop. We didn’t need any more fallen warriors around here.\u003cbr\u003e             A curve of sun broke over the mesa’s edge, and I was still staring at Blue. \u003ci\u003eGet moving, Tess. Stop thinking about stuff you can’t change. Run!\u003c\/i\u003e I breathed in, said a little prayer to the spirits just in case they really were listening, and took off. My body started feeling alive, and my mind quieted. I looked to the horizon and ran full out. Someday I’d run all the way to Elephant Feet. Gaby had promised to race with me. Nonstop. But now my sister isn’t running—she’s marching. My throat started getting tight. \u003ci\u003eStop thinking, Tess. Just run.\u003c\/i\u003e A steady rhythm settled in, my legs reaching, arms pumping. Breathe. Run. Nothing else.\u003cbr\u003e             The horizon shimmered as if the Holy Ones were pouring out their blessings. Running worked its magic. My heart pounded, and I was flying. Running free. Running and wishing I’d never have to turn around.\u003ci\u003e I don’t want to go to the ceremony. Not this one, not today.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e             I stopped. Breathing came in fast gulps. I yelled to the sky, “Gaby, why aren’t you here? Lori was your friend!” Overhead a raven swooped low, cawing as if scolding me. I stopped. Breathing . . .\u003cbr\u003e             I kicked at the sand, turned, ran slowly back home.\u003cbr\u003e             Mom, Gramps, and Grandma, dressed in their best Navajo attire, sat around the kitchen table, sipping coffee, waiting. As soon as I opened the door, Mom glanced at the clock. No one said a word. I rushed through a cold shower, threw on some fresh clothes—my good jeans and the Western shirt Mom had washed and ironed the day before. I hurried outside. Mom had loaded the truck bed with gifts for Lori’s family. Grandpa sat in the front on the passenger side, his fingers tapping the sill of the rolled-down window. Grandma sat in the middle. Dad was missing—still in Phoenix, working overtime. He had transferred to Phoenix when Gaby started college. Not that he wanted to, but it meant a higher position in the computer department and more pay. When Gaby found out, she threatened to drop out of college and get a job. Both Mom and Dad had snapped back, “Don’t you dare.”\u003cbr\u003e             Well, she \u003ci\u003ehad \u003c\/i\u003edared and dropped out. But not for a job.\u003cbr\u003e             I climbed into the back of the truck, sat down, and off we went. \u003cbr\u003e             The truck bumped along the rutted driveway. Red dust swirled behind us. We turned onto the main road, and my insides got jumpier.\u003cbr\u003e             I sat upright, my back pressed against the cab window, and watched the long highway unwind. It felt strange sitting in the truck bed all alone. Usually Gaby and I sat huddled next to each other, singing silly songs and telling goofy jokes, like when we were younger. Riding in the truck bed was our special time. Even after Gaby left for college, every Friday after school I’d ride along with Mom to Flagstaff. We’d do some shopping, pick up Gaby, then head back home. I’d talk nonstop for a while, filling her in with all the latest Rez gossip. For the entire drive it was just the two of us with the wind whipping by.\u003cbr\u003e             Once when I was little, Gaby had leaned in close and said, “I’ve got a secret—promise not to tell?” Of course I had promised.\u003cbr\u003e             “I have a boyfriend and he kissed me, a big long kiss.” She had grinned. “Tess . . . I liked it.” She had a ridiculous look on her face. “We’re going to do it again.”\u003cbr\u003e             As soon as we had gotten home, I hopped out of the truck and told Mom. I didn’t want my sister kissing some slobbery boy. Gaby hadn’t spoken to me for a week. Finally\u003cbr\u003e I had written her a long poem about my sorry, sad heart. Even then I had to agree to do her share of dishes for an entire month.\u003cbr\u003e             Tuba City came into view as we drove over the final set of hills. Not much to see. Up ahead was the one shopping center—a grocery store, a pizza place, Frank’s Dry Goods store, and a Chinese takeout restaurant. Rows of government housing, identical, tan-colored houses with blue metal roofs, lined the streets. All along the barbed-wire fences, shreds of white grocery bags flapped like broken-winged birds. Our truck slowed, and we turned just before the post office, where the US flag flew at half-mast.\u003cbr\u003e             My stomach did another flip-flop. Half-mast. For Lori.\u003cbr\u003e             Traffic was backed up, a long line of pickups and SUVs. We inched along to the school and finally parked in one of the last remaining spaces.\u003cbr\u003e             Mom climbed out and hurried around to help Gramps and Grandma out of the truck. I didn’t move. Mom frowned at me. “Teshina, it’s time.”\u003cbr\u003e             I swung myself over the side of the truck. Grandma patted my hand. Grandma looked at Mom. They often said a lot to each other without saying a word. Gaby and Mom were like that too.\u003cbr\u003e             Car doors slammed shut. No one spoke. No one shouted hello. An uneasy quiet hovered over the parking lot. I followed my family into the gym.\u003cbr\u003e             I felt the drums before I could see them.\u003cbr\u003e             Their vibrations echoed through my bones.\u003cbr\u003e             \u003ci\u003eBoom-BOOM! Boom-BOOM!\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e             I felt scared like when I was little. I wanted to reach up and hold on to my big sister’s hand.","brand":"Charlesbridge","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304953237733,"sku":"NP9781580897020","price":16.95,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781580897020.jpg?v=1767736881","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/soldier-sister-fly-home-isbn-9781580897020","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}