Zoey's family has a strange feeling about the two-tailed comet in the sky. But that doesn’t mean Zoey will let them chaperone her class field trip to Reelfoot Lake, Tennessee—especially since Grandma Cope grew up near there. What if Grandma tells everyone about being a Native American? Zoey has no interest in her family’s past. All she wants is for her parents to get back together, and for herself to fit in at school. She doesn’t know what’s hit her when, during the bus ride to Reelfoot, she’s propelled back in time to 1811, when the lake was formed! Now Zoey’s cell phone doesn’t work, there’s no fast food in sight, and massive earthquakes keep rattling the land. Prim, proper Prudence Charity and her way-too-pregnant mother are the first people Zoey sees, but they don’t believe her story—until they meet up with Chickasaw Chief Kalopin and his beautiful Choctaw bride. Kalopin is convinced that the Great Spirit has cursed him for stealing Laughing Eyes from Chief Copiah, and that soon, the river will swallow up his village and everyone in it. Zoey knows they’re headed for disaster, but can she find the courage to save them? "Riveting . . . a compelling first novel." - School Library Journal Candie Moonshower lives in Nashville, Tennessee. Journal of Zoey (on being 13 and other important facts) November 23, Saturday I turned thirteen today. Finally! I'd been dreading my birthday for weeks, because of the current situation with the Parents, but it turned out all right. We went to Grandma Cope's house and celebrated the way we have every year of my life. Mom and Dad let me take Jillian along. I think they wanted another body there to keep things normal. But that's okay. Even though she has gotten on my last nerve since seventh grade began, I love Jillian to death. We've been friends since our diaper days at the Rainbow of Peace Preschool. Anyway, we were all at Grandma Cope's acting like everything was normal, which was hard. Nothing has been normal for a while now. It was time to open presents (the best part!), and I opened a bag from Grandma Cope and found this gorgeous journal that I'm writing in right now. The outside is a light brown leather and has colored beads sewn on it in a design that looks like a river flowing through a forest, with a guy riding a horse beside the river. In the sky is a shooting star, I think, but Grandma might have sewn too many layers of beads on one side. It looks kind of lopsided. But I'd never say anything. "This is so cool, Grandma!" I said, and meant it. "What kind of design is that?" Jillian asked. "I combined beadwork patterns from the Choctaw and Chickasaw tribes." Grandma Cope laughed her rusty-sounding laugh. "Something I learned from my grandmothers." I fingered the beads. "You love rivers, don't you?" "Yes." Grandma looked at me. "Rivers are the lifeblood of the land. Rivers take us away, and rivers bring us home." Sometimes Grandma Cope says deep stuff I don't understand. "Grandma Cope lived near the Mississippi when she was a little girl," Mom said for Jillian's benefit. "Yes, in Chickasaw Country." Grandma always calls West Tennessee Chickasaw Country even though it hasn't been called that for almost two hundred years. "Who's the man on the horse?" I asked her. "That's a Chickasaw chief." Grandma's eyes twinkled. "And that's a mule." Jillian and I took one look at each other and burst into laughter. "Mule Day!" we both shouted. In sixth grade, our social studies teacher, Ms. Simpson, took us to Columbia, Tennessee, Mule Capitol of the World, for Mule Day. Who'd ever think of celebrating a mule? "Why would an Indian chief be riding a mule?" I asked Grandma Cope. "Wouldn't he be on a fast stallion?" "A stallion is fast. A mule is strong. For a long journey, a chief might decide a mule served him better." Grandma smiled. All the talk of mules and journeys began to bore me. "How about some cake?" I said to Grandma Cope. She gave me one of those piercing looks of hers. I guess I never realized that mules are one of her favorite things. "Yes, let's have cake," Mom said. "I've got to head over to Mrs. Brady's house soon. Her baby might come today." "Oh, great," I mumbled. Mom must have heard me, because she shot me one of her looks. But I didn't care! This was my birthday. I didn't like the thought of sharing it with some squalling newborn. Dad patted my arm, but I could tell by how he was biting his lip that he was mad, too. Mom and Dad separated after Mom quit her nursing job to be a midwife. During one of their last arguments before Dad moved out, I overheard Dad tell Mom that he resented her throwing away her career to birth babies. Mom hollered that she was pursuing her calling. Dad hollered back that he guessed he would never pursue his calling. I didn't even know he had a calling. I thought he liked being an accountant. Mom bustled into the kitchen and reappeared with my cake. The candles were burning. Everyone sang "Happy Birthday" to me. "Time to make a wi