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158 pages

English

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Eighth grade is set to be a good year for Diggy Lawson: He's chosen a great calf to compete at the Minnesota State Fair, he'll see a lot of July, the girl he secretly likes at 4-H, and he and his dad Pop have big plans for April Fool's Day. But everything changes when classmate Wayne Graf's mother dies, which brings to light the secret that Pop is Wayne's father, too. Suddenly, Diggy has a half brother, who moves in and messes up his life. Wayne threatens Diggy's chances at the State Fair, horns in on his girl, and rattles his easy relationship with Pop.What started out great quickly turns into the worst year ever, filled with jealousy, fighting, and several incidents involving cow poop. But as the boys care for their steers, pull pranks, and watch too many B movies, they learn what it means to be brothers and change their concept of family as they slowly steer toward a new kind of normal.Praise for Steering Toward NormalFirst-time author Petruck's account of country life is never dull as she depicts the strong work ethic of cattlemen and women, along with the universal conflicts between siblings.--Publishers WeeklyThe plot is full of pranks and humorous situations but at its heart, it is a story about navigating the complicated and sometimes unexpected dynamics that come with being part of a family. Petruck captures the setting of rural Minnesota well, creating a small town where it seems like nearly everyone is related or at the very least always knows everyone else's business.--VOYA MagazineIn Petruck's capable hands, raising a steercaring for it, loving it, and eventually letting it gobecomes a keen metaphor for the loss of a loved one. Diggy is a perceptive narrator, but not unusually so for his age, and it's reassuring to see him sort out his tangled feelings.--Booklist

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Children's

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Publié par	ABRAMS BOOKS
Date de parution	13 mai 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781613124741
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0705€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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PUBLISHER S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for and may be obtained from the Library of Congress. ISBN: 978-1-4197-0732-2
Text copyright 2014 Rebecca Petruck Illustrations copyright 2014 Sam Bosma Photographs on pages this page , this page , and this page copyright 2014 Laura Seljan Book design by Sara Corbett
Published in 2014 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
Amulet Books and Amulet Paperbacks are registered trademarks of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.
Amulet Books are available at special discounts when purchased in quantity for premiums and promotions as well as fundraising or educational use. Special editions can also be created to specification. For details, contact specialsales@abramsbooks.com or the address below.

115 West 18th Street New York, NY 10011 www.abramsbooks.com

CONTENTS
FALL
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
WINTER
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
SPRING
19
20
21
22
23
24
SUMMER
25
26
27
28
29
30
THE MINNESOTA STATE FAIR
31
32
33
34
IN CASE YOU WERE WONDERING
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DIGGY LAWSON STOOD IN THE BARN AND PROMISED HIMSELF AGAIN THAT he would not name this new calf. After three years competing steers at the Minnesota State Fair, he knew what to expect. Nothing could describe the long, final walk to the packer s truck, knowing that in only a few days his steer would be served at Hartley s Steak House.
He was an experienced cattleman now. No names, no tears. An eighth-grader shouldn t cry.
Diggy inspected his morning s work one more time. The stall was tidy, wood shavings evenly raked over the ground, water trough scrubbed shiny. The steer he had chosen would settle in to his new home fast and happily.
Diggy heard the distant whoosh of tires coming up the gravel road. He grabbed the rice root brush from its peg and shoved it into his back pocket as he walked to the driveway and watched July s truck crest the hill.
He patted his hair to be sure he hadn t broken the shell of goop that kept his cowlicks flat, then swiped sweat from his forehead. Mid-September weather was hit or miss in Minnesota, veering through summer, fall, and almost winter on a day-by-day basis. This Saturday was summer, but Diggy wore jeans and boots anyway. Anything less around a calf jittery after his first ride in a trailer would make July think he d forgotten everything she d ever taught him. She had chosen him to fill her shoes and become the next Grand Champion Market Beef, and there was no way he d let her down.
Pop came out, his orange hair bright as a glow stick, and Diggy was glad he d used the goop because it made his own hair darker. It didn t matter that July had seen him filthy before, covered in hay, dirt, and cow poop. He didn t like to look messy around her when he could help it. As her truck made the turn into the long driveway, he breathed deeply to chase away the stomach swirlies.
Do I get to say hi to her, or do I have to make myself scarce? Pop asked.
Har, har, Diggy said, though Pop s tone was so straight on, Diggy wasn t sure if he was teasing or not. He squinted sideways at Pop.
Pop laughed and roughed up Diggy s hair. What the-
Quit it, Diggy said. Luckily, nothing much had shifted. He pressed the shell back down.
Is that hair gel or rubber cement?
Geezer. No one uses rubber cement anymore. Diggy snickered at his own joke. At thirty-five, Pop was probably the youngest Pop on the planet, but calling him old never got old.
This geezer can still ground you.
That would hurt you more than me.
Pop snorted. I m thinking you deserve a little something special for lunch today.
Diggy groaned. Pop was an expert prankster with a sub-specialty in food doctoring. July parked, and Diggy headed over to her truck, calling back to Pop, As long as it s after July s gone.
Pop grinned, waved at July, and made himself scarce.
Diggy s gratitude doubled as he watched July climb out of the truck.
July Johnston.
Every time she was near, Diggy s heart became the sun.
July, like her five sisters before her, would be homecoming queen now that she was a senior. Her hair was long and dark and shiny, pulled back into the usual ponytail. Her face was clean, no makeup, and her brown eyes sparkled. She wore jeans, a T-shirt, and boots, and was pretty much perfect.
But it wasn t only that she was pretty. She was nice, too. Honest nice, not pretend nice like some of the popular girls. And she loved cows. Even though she didn t have to, she liked being there when Diggy had a new calf brought home for the first time.
Diggy had gone to his first 4-H meeting because of July. She had come to his class to talk about how cool 4-H was-all the different activities they supported, the community outreach, and the friendships with people from all over the county-but he had been hooked by her smile, her enthusiasm, and the sparkle in her eyes. He pretended to himself he would have gotten involved in raising steers on his own at some point, but he knew better than to believe it. As much as he had learned to love the animals, he competed for July.
Hey there. She hugged him sideways, the way she usually did, this time so she could look at the fence and post they d use for halter breaking. Everything all set here?
He nodded, reeling from her cut-grass smell and her bare arm over his shoulders and the little bit of sweat where her skin pressed against his.
Of course it is, she said. She gave his shoulders a squeeze, and he let himself press that little bit closer to her. You re an old pro. She smiled down at him and ruffled his hair.
Tried to ruffle it.
Her eyes widened.
Diggy jerked away. Sorry, I, uh His face felt like a thousand fires. My hair sticks up.
July grabbed his shoulders to make him stand still, then scratched his head like it was a steer s rump, breaking up the goop crust. I like your head the way it is.
Diggy looked up into her smiling eyes, a good six inches above his, wishing he wasn t the youngest and shortest eighth-grader in his class and hoping all his hope that four years wasn t so big a difference.
He could have stood like that with July forever.
She patted his shoulder and turned to look up the drive. Here he comes.
It took a few seconds for Diggy to hear the diesel engine over the thump of blood in his ears. Rick Lenz was coming with the calf.
Diggy joined July in waving Lenz in.
Lenz climbed out of the cab, walked back, and slid out the short ramp like it was one motion, proof of his having done it a thousand times. Their hellos to him were lost in the metallic clank of latches sprung and disgruntled moos, but Lenz heard Pop call out that there was fresh coffee inside. Barely a minute after Lenz s arrival, Diggy and July were alone again.
July shook her head. Never get a word in edgewise with that guy.
Diggy laughed. Everyone knew Lenz talked more to his cows than to people. July s teasing helped Diggy relax a bit. His new calf was home.
Diggy had gone out to Mr. Lenz s last weekend to select the steer he d compete from among the other spring-born calves, and he had felt an immediate bond with this one. But that was a week ago and in a different setting. Even though he knew all would go well with raising his chosen calf and had for the last three years, Diggy still got nervous when it came time to bring a steer home.
He walked around the back of the trailer and looked in, seeing mostly rump. The calf was in a simple rope halter tied through one of the openings in the trailer s side. It saved time with the breaking to let the steers fight the halter during the ride.
Diggy eased into the back as quietly as he could-pretty much impossible with boots and an aluminum trailer. The calf rolled back his eyes and bawled. Diggy scratched the calf s rump until he quieted, then pulled the brush from his back pocket and stroked it over the steer s hide.
Diggy couldn t help but admire what a fine calf he d chosen. He had a long, straight top with a clean line through the throat and brisket. He was full but not too muscled, so he had room to grow in the year they d be together, and his legs were sturdy, not too bent or too straight. What Diggy liked best was the way the calf watched him back. Calm and alert. The eyes and hair were almost equally black and absorbed light like it would help him grow. Only his nose glistened.
Diggy was so focused on his new calf, it took him a while to feel July looking in on them. He turned to her, scratching the calf s rump again. He already looks like a champ. And did you see how quickly he calmed for me? It was a sign of trust that meant they d have a good bond.
The steer twitched his tail aside and pooped. On Diggy s boot.
Crap, Diggy said, laughing. You re a real joker, aren t you. It was Diggy s fault for having his feet in the line of fire-but the laugh burst like a bubble overhead, becoming a black cloud. He had promised himself he wouldn t name his steer!
He clattered out of the trailer, setting off fresh bawling, and dragged his boot in the grass.
July gave him the eye, clearly not happy with his behavior. It s not like that s never happened before, she pointed out.
Diggy sighed. I wasn t going to name him.
Ah. The small sound was filled with echoes of Diggy s own regret. July knew exactly what it was like to care for an animal and have to let him go. She hugged him to her side. I used to tell myself that, too, but ever