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it.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I know the way you do things,” he said. “You didn’t want Mom worrying. So you made it all sound so simple. I want to know what really happened.”
    “I made up a song about it. You want to hear it?”
    “Not really.”
    “Here’s the last verse.” I stood up and sang:
    “That’s my story, and here’s the last chapter:
I rode a mattress; Tanner, a helicapter.”
    For once, Tanner didn’t smile. “No jokes, Ryan. No dumb songs. I want to hear what happened.”
    “All right,” I said. “But you have to promise not to tell anybody.”
    “Why not?”
    “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. Just promise me.”
    “Okay, I promise. Cross my heart and all that stuff. Now, let’s hear it.”
    “We’d better sit down,” I said. “It’ll take a while.”
    We sat on my bed, and I told him the whole thing.
    When I was done, he shook his head. “I don’t get it. What’s the big secret? You saved my life twice. First you kept me from drowning. And then you got me rescued. The doctor said I wouldn’t have lasted much longer. People ought to know what you did.”
    “You promised,” I said.
    “Okay.” He got up from the bed. “Wait here a second.”
    I rested my head on a pillow. I felt better now that Tanner knew the story. I didn’t want to tell anybody else right then. I felt good about the whole thing. I’d made mistakes, but I’d done the very best I could. And I was proud of that.
    But how could I tell anybody else about itwithout seeming to brag? And I didn’t want to talk about how lonely and scared I had felt.
    Or think about bad things that could have happened.
    Tanner came back into the room. He flashed me that same old smile. “I got something for you. And I don’t want you acting dumb.” He handed me a little white box.
    I opened it and looked inside. It was his medal. “No way,” I said.
    “I told you. Don’t be weird about it. I figure you’re a real hero, and somebody ought to give you a medal. So that’s what I’m doing.”
    “But it’s not—” I started.
    “Don’t argue with me. Just take it.”
    Nobody can argue with Tanner. He always gets his way. So I didn’t even try.
    When Tanner left, I put the medal into the top drawer of my desk. Then I opened another drawer and dug out Chopper Demon.
    Just one game before bed. Or, if the Demon zapped me, maybe two.

P. J. Petersen has written many books for young readers. He is a graduate of Stanford University and holds a doctorate in English from the University of New Mexico. He lives with his wife in Redding, California. He has two daughters, Karen and Carly, and two grandchildren, Ryan and Emma.
    When he is not writing, P.J. enjoys hiking, kayaking, bicycling, and swimming. When it is raining, he bakes bread, works crossword puzzles, and reads other authors’ books.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
    Copyright © 2009 by P. J. Petersen
    All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
    Delacorte Press is a registered trademark and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
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    Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Petersen, P. J.
Wild river / P. J. Petersen.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: Considered lazy and unathletic, twelve-year-old Ryan discovers a
heroic side of himself when a kayak trip with his older brother goes horribly awry.
eISBN: 978-0-375-89268-4
[1. Wilderness survival—Fiction. 2. Survival—Fiction. 3. Heroes—Fiction.
4. Kayaks and kayaking—Fiction. 5. Brothers—Fiction.] I.