Sirens! A scary sound, especially to Siria, whose brave pop is a firefighter. Siria loves everyone at Pop's city firehouse. She also loves to study the stars. Her mother named her after the brightest start in the winter sky.       When Siria hears sirens, she sneaks out to chase the trucks, to bring Pop and the other firefighters luck. She'd be in big trouble if she ever got caught. Good thing her best friend, Douglas, is always by her side.    As Christmas approaches, Siria suspects that someone in the neighborhood is setting fires. She has to find out who's doing it. When clues point to a surprising suspect, she realizes that solving this mystery will take all kinds of courage.    Patricia Reilly Giff, the author of many beloved and award-winning books, is at her best in this action-packed story. In Winter Sky, friends, family, and a very special dog help Siria see how brave she really is. Nominated to the Arkansas Charlie May Simon Children’s Book Award PATRICIA REILLY GIFF is the author of many beloved books for children, including the Kids of the Polk Street School books. Several of her novels for middle-grade readers have been chosen as ALA-ALSC Notable Books and ALA-YALSA Best Books for Young Adults. They include  The Gift of the Pirate Queen; All the Way Home; Water Street; Nory Ryan's Song,  a Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators Golden Kite Honor Book for Fiction; and the Newbery Honor Books Lily's Crossing  and  Pictures of Hollis Woods. Lily's Crossing  was also chosen as a Boston Globe-Horn  Book Honor Book. Her most recent novels are  R My Name Is Rachel, Storyteller, Eleven,  and  Wild Girl;  her books for younger readers in the Zigzag Kids series include  Number One Kid, Big Whopper,  and  Flying Feet. CHAPTER 1 A blast of sound: the clang of sirens, the rumble of fire engines. Siria heard it clearly, even from their seventh-floor apartment. She ran her fingers over Mom’s star book, then tucked it under her pillow. Tonight was like the beginning of that coyote story: no moon, no stars, only flakes of snow rushing through the darkness. She tiptoed across her room and opened the door an inch. Yes. Mimi, her sitter, was dozing on the pullout couch in the living room, her glasses still perched on her nose. Siria grabbed her jacket off the desk chair and shrugged into it. She pushed up the window without a sound, bracing herself against the freezing air. The fire escape was slippery with ice. She imagined tumbling through the open stairs all the way down to the bottom floor. Dead as a doornail. Toughen up, Siria. She ducked outside and leaned over the edge. On the avenue below, a traffic light turned red, and a minivan screeched to a stop. The store windows were dim except for those at Trencher’s Market, where red and green Christmas lights flashed on and off. Beyond the avenue, the sledding hills rose like pale pillows. The sirens grew louder as the engines turned the corner onto the avenue. The minivan screeched again as it veered out of the way. Siria slid down the icy steps, holding hard to the railing. Down one flight, her friend Laila’s window, where she must be asleep by now. At the fifth floor, she stopped for a breath. Inside, Mr. and Mrs. Byars were watching the late-night news. A surprise. They were usually fighting. On four, she angled around a pile of cracked flowerpots, then took a quick look into three, where Douglas lived. Douglas, with curly red hair he hated and kept hidden under a falling-apart baseball cap. Douglas, who loved working with his hands and said he’d build roads and houses one day. Douglas, her best friend since kindergarten. She tapped on his dark window. “Hurry,” she whispered, and there he was, jacket on already, ratty blue baseball hat on backward. He climbed out the window. “Yeow, freezing out here.” “Let’s go,” she said. They raced down the last flights to the snowy sidewalk. That afternoon they’d jammed their bikes in behind the apartment-house fence, and now, in a moment, they wheeled them out and brushed off the snow. They followed the fire truck, bent over the handlebars, splashing slush against the wheels. The truck turned and Siria pedaled faster, right behind Douglas, almost careening into Jason, the Trencher’s Market delivery boy. He leaned against the store window with the teenage kid who followed him around like a shadow. Mike? Yes, that was his name. She could see the tattoo on the back of his neck, a dark M against his pale skin. Siria’s bike skidded, but she righted herself and called “Sorry” over her shoulder. They hadn’t seen who she was. Lucky! If anyone knew what she was doing, she’d be in huge trouble. Fire chasing! Chasing Pop, a firefighter who rode high up on the ladder truck. Following him to keep him safe. If only she could. Look out for your pop, Siria. Had Mom said that long ago? Maybe it was a dream. She couldn’t remember Mom, who had died when she was little. She had only the star book to remind her. Pop was her w