Five trips, two cousins, one family feud, and a summer that will forever change their
lives.
Hello, Ramm Readers! I thought I’d do something a little different for this blog post and share an
excerpt from my young adult novel, Not Our Summer, which released in 2021 with Running
Press Teens. Every book I write has horses in some capacity (or in this case, mules!), so here’s a
short scene that I thought you might enjoy.
(Excerpt from Chapter 4)
By the time we’re sitting on our mules at the trailhead, I feel as if I might have a panic attack
myself. I’ve never been a fan of heights, but the Grand Canyon is a sight unlike anything I’ve
ever seen. The chasm is both stunningly beautiful and utterly terrifying at the same time. I’ve
honestly never seen anything so enormous and I can’t help but think about the fact that I could
actually die today. If Mom were here, I’m not sure she’d be okay with this. She already lost her
son, after all. When I risk a glance at K.J., I find she’s peering toward the canyon’s edge with
more of a look of anticipation.
I’m a freakin’ midfielder, I remind myself. The best on my team. I’ve had girls twice my
size coming at me on the field. I can do this.
My pep talk is only a temporary fix, though. When the leader of our ride, a thirty-
something cowboy named Dusty, shouts for everyone to follow him, I’m right back where I was.
My heart hammers as the mules fall in line, their hooves clip-clopping on the rocky ground. We
begin our perilous descent, and my hand clutches the horn on my saddle like my life depends on
it. It very well could, actually. Though the great void to my right is impossible to ignore, I force
myself to stay focused on the space between Geronimo’s floppy ears. If he has any idea that our
lives are in mortal danger, he shows no sign of it.
A ways ahead of me, K.J. yells, “Yeehaw!” as she rounds the first bend in the switchback
trail. I can’t even dwell on her dorkiness because soon enough I’m at the same turn. I suck in a
sharp breath as Geronimo’s head hangs over open space for a gut-wrenching moment, but he
makes the turn easily enough and lumbers on.
Just breathe, I tell myself, and that’s all I can really do. Not that I’d been looking forward
to this trip at all, but it’s worse than I’d anticipated. Why anyone would actually choose to do
this is beyond me, and with each step Geronimo takes down the trail, my stomach clenches
tighter. I keep hoping things will get easier or I’ll get used to the scenery, but after a half hour or
so, it becomes clear that isn’t going to happen. By now, my whole body is betraying me. My
back feels like it could give out at any second, and the muscles in my right hand ache from
gripping the saddle horn so tightly. Honestly, I think my hand might be permanently molded into
that shape by the time we make it to the bottom. This is the absolute worst thing ever.
Every time K.J. rounds another bend in the zigzagging trail and passes back by me, she’s
beaming, which sends a jolt of anger spiraling through my system. How is she enjoying this? I
don’t get it at all. Occasionally, she glances up at me, but I force my eyes elsewhere. Then, an
idea pops into my head. When she comes into view again, I try to smile and wave like I’m
having the time of my life. Only my body refuses to cooperate and a little squeal escapes my
mouth as I attempt to pry my fingers from the saddle horn. By the time I regain my composure,
she’s already moved on, probably having a good laugh at my expense.
If you’d like to purchase a copy of Not Our Summer, you can find it nearly anywhere books are
sold, including Amazon:
Grand Canyon Picture Credit: Mark Zimmerman on Unsplash
