Thirteen-year-old Sidney finds purpose and healing following the death of her aunt when she joins an effort to save an old-growth forest. While Sidney grieves the loss of her beloved aunt, she discovers that the old-grown forest along her Pacific Northwest coastal town is at risk of being destroyed. Losing Aunt Jess has created a hole in the heart of her family, and Sidney doesn’t want to imagine the possibility of also losing the place that meant so much to both of them. Yet, she feels as though her parents ready to give up on the forest without a fight, and the only member of her family that cares as much as Sidney is her youngest brother, Riley. Just when things start to seem hopeless, a class project provides Sidney, her best friend, and an unexpected ally with the chance to bring awareness to the importance of Cedar Grove’s old-growth forest. With the help of Elders in the community, the trio relies on stories from the past to bring memories to the present, in hopes of protecting the future. But will it all be enough to save the forest and keep Sidney from losing what matters most? Nikki Bergstresser can often be found hiking the forest trails and mountains of coastal British Columbia. Some of her best story ideas have grown from time spent in nature. Nikki loves travelling adventures, visiting quaint bookstores, building with Lego, and spending time with her husband, two daughters, and their plethora of pets. As an educator, Nikki values the power of storytelling to connect us. She loves visiting classrooms and schools to share her love of reading and writing. As the author of children’s picture books Lila Lou’s Little Library and Seasons for Stones , Nikki believes our words can shape our world. A Promise to Protect is Nikki’s debut middle grade novel. Chapter 1 We were all at home together when the phone call came. For that, I will always be thankful.  I was unpacking my backpack in a feeble attempt to find the permission slip needed for my parents to sign. It was for our upcoming 8th Grade class trip to go watch salmon spawning at Weaver Creek. There was part of me who wanted to forget the permission slip so I would not be cramped like a squishy bag of marshmallows into a stale-smelling school bus. Trekking out along the woods for the promise of seeing salmon struggling to achieve their final destination and ultimate purpose did not impress me much. The smell of final victory for these fish permeated the nostrils almost as bad as my older brother’s basketball uniform after an intense game.  My hands searched blindly through my pack. When was the last time my bag had been cleaned out? I was finding things at the bottom which bordered on being classified as UFOs (unidentifiable furry objects). Stuck to a half-eaten granola bar was my missing earbud. I set it aside to wipe the stickiness off. A few runaway M&M’S were hiding at the bottom. Oops! There was my missing house key I had accused my older brother of taking. What was that? A cap from my lip balm. EWW! The gooeyness now coated my fingers and my overdue library book. Guess I’ll need to research how to remove goo from a book cover. Our librarian would not be impressed. Finally, my hand felt a crumpled paper wadded into the far corner of my bag. Victoriously, I pulled it out, waving it above my head as if I’d found some lost hidden treasure.  Dad was getting supper ready in the kitchen. It was Friday, so that meant his famous meatball subs. He has a “secret sauce” recipe he uses, passed down to him from his Italian nonno. It calls for San Marzano tomatoes as the base. Dad said he would tell us the remainder of the ingredients when we were ready and “worthy” (whatever that meant). Family secret. A hoagie loaded with so much tomato sauce it oozed down your chin in the first bite. Not a meal you would want to eat without a stack of napkins. In fact, it had at least a four-napkin requirement. Mom sorted through the mail on the counter and muttered to herself about the house looking “like a tornado went through it.” I did a quick glance around our living space. Two laundry baskets of wrinkled clothes were dumped, taking up space on the sofa. We would probably need to do the sniff test to see if they were clean or dirty. The tangled vacuum lay in the middle of the floor with the best of intentions, but for the last three days we all stepped over it. Our family’s popular game of “who would put it away first” usually ended in whoever was the one that stubbed their toe on it. A pile of shoes by the front door was steadily multiplying over the week. How many shoes did we all own, anyway? The jumble of sneakers and boots looked like it belonged to a crowd instead of our little family.  On the dining table was a partially completed puzzle of a bookstore with a couple of calico cats snoozing among the books. My Aunt Jess and I had been working together on it last week. I promised her I would wait until she returned home to finish it. There were a few p