Calli Be Gold by Michele Weber Hurwitz

Dad lets out a laugh. “I think she cried for two days afterwards.”
    “There’s the junior high. The hill’s right over there,” I interrupt, and point, wishing Dad would stop the embarrassing story.
    At the hill, we get our stuff; then he waves to us as he drives away. I watch the puff of steam from the back of the van disappear in the cold air. “Sorry,” I sigh, shaking my head.
    “Don’t worry,” Wanda says. “Dads are like that. They live to embarrass us.”
    “At least yours are around,” Claire says, then looks over at the sledding hill. “I still think we’re getting too old for this.”
    Wanda grabs Claire’s arm. “See those guys over there?” she says, gesturing to a group that beat us to the hill. “I happen to know they’re in eighth grade! They’re not too old for sledding!”
    “What else were you going to do today, anyway?” I ask Claire.
    She looks at the hill, then back at us. Finally, she grins. “Okay, okay. You’ve convinced me.”
    Wanda grabs my gloved hand and Claire’s as well. “We always go together the first time down the hill. It can’t be any other way.”
    The three of us pile into the longest sled—Wanda in front, me in the middle, and Claire in the back. We’re pretty squeezed in now that we’ve all gotten taller and bigger, but it doesn’t matter. We dig our hands into thesnow to push off, and then sail downward, making a clean first path on our part of the hill.
    Claire screams in my ear—she always does—and Wanda lets go of the sides and sticks her arms high into the air. The wind is sharp and cold against my cheeks. We coast to a stop and the three of us tumble out. When we finally stand up, the snow reaches the tops of our boots.
    “Let’s climb back up!” Wanda yells, and we stomp up the hill. Wanda grabs a saucer, plops down on her stomach, pushes off, and flies down. I follow her on a smaller sled, and we wave to Claire, who’s still at the top, and yell, “Come on!” Claire positions herself neatly on a snowboard and floats down the hill toward us without falling.
    “Show-off!” Wanda calls, and when Claire reaches us, Wanda pops up and pushes her over. We laugh and run up the hill again, dragging the sled and saucer and snowboard behind us.
    All my worries disappear in the crisp, cool whiteness of the snow and the open clear blue of the sky.
    After we’ve gone down the hill about fifty times, we drop to the ground. The air is warmer now and the snow is getting slushier. Wanda picks up a gloveful of snow and licks it.
    “Ew.” Claire frowns. “You know that’s probably polluted. Loaded with chemicals.”
    “So what? It tastes good.” Wanda takes a bite of snow and smiles at us.
    Wanda’s and Claire’s cheeks have cheerful red patches on them, which means mine do too. That’s what I love about winter—the way the cool air makes my skin tingle and come alive.
    I look across the long, open field at the bottom of the hill. The redbrick junior high building stands across the street, empty and silent and big. “We’ll be there next year,” I say, pointing.
    “Done with elementary school at last,” Wanda replies happily. “Actually, I’m ready for sixth grade right now.”
    “I’m not sure if I’m ready,” I admit.
    “My cousin turned into a completely different person in junior high,” Claire says. “Dyed her hair and pierced her eyebrow and started wearing all black.”
    “That won’t happen to us,” Wanda says. “My mom won’t let me even get my ears pierced.”
    I shade my eyes with a wet glove. “We’ll still be friends, won’t we?”
    “Of course,” Wanda shouts.
    “People change,” Claire says.
    “But not us.” Wanda takes another bite of snow.
    “Hey!” I say. “Let’s make a pact. Let’s make a pact to stay friends even if we change in junior high like Claire’s cousin and pierce something. What do you say?”
    I take hold of each of their gloves; then we stack ourhands vertically. I solemnly