Induction Day: Book Two in the Butterman Travel Series Read Online Free PDF Page B

with camera-ready prospectors. Once we past Chiganak’s Inn, it’s clear how bad it’s gotten. A throng of non-locals with backpacks on stop to watch us approach, aware that at any moment, the objects of their media gossip could arrive.
    Luckily, with our fur hoods and goggles on they can’t tell us apart from the next local, but I have no doubt they’re ready to pounce should their potential story makes itself known.
    “Veer right, behind Old EagleEye’s,” I call out to Agnes.
    “They can’t see your faces,” she calls back. “Want me to stir up some wake? Soak’em with snow?”
    I pat her upper shoulder through her heavy coat. “Better lay low. I don’t like the way they’re staring.”
    She doesn’t answer, speeds up and around Chiganak’s, then bears a quick right, where we weave between the narrow space of Old EagleEye’s house and workshop. My body shivers, even though I’m now plenty warm enough inside my pink thermal puffer and new snow boots, compliments of Tristan’s favorite ski boutique in L.A. It isn’t snowing at the moment, but the Arctic skies are an overcast pearly gray. Unfriendly and dreary. Not the hopeful return I was dreaming of, but anywhere’s better than L.A., where microdrones seem to materialize in thin air. Gives me the total creeps.
    Tristan’s arms sneak up and around my waist, giving me a little squeeze, as if he’s thinking what I’m thinking. He’s taking the heat for being aggressive and for smashing that microdrone, but truth is, if he hadn’t, I would have. What would the media have to say about me then? Not that it could get any worse, but I’m petrified of damaging my family biz’s reputation by doing something stupid on camera.
    I reach over and clutch Tristan’s gloved hand with mine, holding on tight while Agnes speeds up my mountain and into a nice, even idle to the back of Butterman Travel’s red brick building, where my house is located.
    “Looks clear,” Agnes says, leaving the snowmobile in neutral at the back door.
    It does look clear, but I’m on full guard as Tristan and I hop off and grab our backpacks.
    “Here’s hoping it stays that way,” I say.
    Agnes nods, spits off to the side, her leathery face barely visible from beneath her goggles and hood. “Gotta get back before Dalton loses his cool. I made a new vat of chowder. Come on in for some once all this settles.”
    “And some sourdough pancakes,” Tristan says with a grin. “Been dreaming about them.”
    Agnes lets out a raspy chuckle. “You got a deal. At least all this hullabaloo is bringing in some business.” She frowns. “When you expect it to be over with?”
    I start for the back door. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything.
    Thanks again, Agnes.”
    She waves, then zooms out of sight.
    A whiff of hickory fills my nostrils and the tension in my shoulders eases. I glance upwards at the smoke rising from the chimney of our quaint train-station-style house. So quiet out here, in the little patch of woods on our mountain. It’s good to be back.
    Zip! Zap !
    I jerk my head to the right, left. What the …? There it is again.
    Microdrones zigzag in all around us.
    “You’ve gotta be kidding.” I sling my bag at one that buzzes right past my face with a series of blinks and snaps that must be still-frame photography.
    “Get inside,” Tristan says.
    At the same second, the back door flings open and Dad pulls me in, Tristan following.
    I drop my bag to the floor and push my hood away from my face. “Dad, you didn’t tell me they had the place surrounded. This is supposed to be my safe haven.”
    Dad gestures with open, helpless palms in front of him. “I’m afraid at this point, this could all be part of our new reality.”
    “We didn’t want to worry you.” Mom appears, her dark curls loose around her beige turtleneck. “It’s not as bad as it seems.” She takes my coat, brushes off the damp residue from the ride and hangs it on the coatrack, before motioning