Lila's Magic Backpack: Packing for a Round-the-World Trip

The air in Lila’s sun-faded cottage smelled like cinnamon and burnt sugar on the morning of her eighth birthday, the sweet, sharp tang of her mom’s chocolate cake already drifting up the stairs before she even opened her eyes. She threw off her patchwork quilt—stitched with tiny foxes and pine trees she’d drawn herself last winter—and tumbled out of bed, her bare feet thumping on the worn wooden floor as she ran to check the living room. Tied to the back of the old leather armchair where her grandpa sat reading, a bundle wrapped in crinkly brown paper waited, a sprig of pine tucked under the twine that held it together. Lila knew that bundle was for her before she even saw the scrawled note in her grandpa’s looping handwriting that read: *For my favorite little explorer. Happy 8th birthday.*

She dropped to her knees in front of the armchair, her chipmunk Chip peeking out of the pocket of her flannel pajamas to sniff the twine. Chip was her pet, a tiny, skittish thing she’d found limping in the woods behind her house last summer, her leg caught in a piece of discarded fishing line. She’d spent three weeks nursing him back to health, feeding him sunflower seeds and apple slices, and now he followed her everywhere, even to school, tucked in the pocket of her backpack. She’d begged her mom to let him stay home alone that morning, but he’d followed her downstairs anyway, his tiny claws clicking on the hardwood.

She untied the twine, the paper crinkling loud in the quiet room, and pulled out a thick, tattered book bound in faded blue leather. The cover was scuffed at the corners, the gold lettering on the front almost rubbed off, but when she touched the cracked leather, it was warm, like it had been sitting in the sun. A tarnished brass compass was embedded in the center of the cover, its needle spinning slow, then stopping, pointing straight at her. “Whoa,” she breathed, turning it over in her hands. The edges of the pages were dog-eared, and a few old stamps were stuck to the inside cover: one with a picture of a pyramid, one with a picture of a penguin, one with a picture of a kangaroo. A crumpled piece of paper stuck out from between the pages, and when she pulled it out, she saw it was a handwritten note, in the same looping handwriting as the tag: > To whoever finds this, > This atlas has taken me to every corner of the world, from the ice of Antarctica to the heat of the Sahara. It will take you anywhere you want to go, if you believe in the magic of exploration. > Your great-great-grandpa, Elias, 1923

“Grandpa, what’s this?” she asked, looking up. Her grandpa smiled, his face crinkling at the corners, the same crinkles she had when she laughed too hard. “That’s Elias’s atlas,” he said, leaning forward to tap the compass on the cover. “He was a sailor, you know. Sailed around the world seven times, mapped islands no one had ever heard of. He left this to me when I was your age, and now it’s yours. But be careful with it—it’s not just a book. It’s a door.”

Before Lila could ask what he meant, Chip scurried up her arm and landed on the cover of the atlas, his tiny paws pressing right on the compass. The whole book glowed bright gold, so bright Lila had to squint, the light spilling out from between the pages, painting the walls yellow. Chip squeaked and dove back into her pajama pocket, but a second later he poked his head out, his black eyes wide with curiosity, not fear. The atlas flipped itself open, pages rustling loud, and stopped on a full-page map of the world, the continents painted in bright, bold colors: Asia was orange, Africa yellow, North America green, South America red, Antarctica white, Europe purple, Oceania pink. The map wasn’t flat, though—Lila could see tiny, moving pictures on each continent: the Great Wall of China snaking across the orange of Asia, a giraffe trotting across the yellow savanna of Africa, a penguin waddling across the white ice of Antarctica.

“Grandpa, it’s moving!” Lila gasped, leaning in so close her nose almost touched the page.

“I know,” he said, his voice soft. “It’s because it likes you. But before you go anywhere, you need to learn the basics, so you don’t get lost. You can’t explore if you don’t know where you are, or where you’re going.”

He stood up and walked over to the wall-sized world map hanging above the couch, covered in the stickers Lila had collected over the years: a shell sticker from her beach trip last summer, a maple leaf sticker from her fall camping trip, a hand-drawn penguin sticker she’d made in art class. He tapped the map with his bony finger, the same finger that had pointed out constellations to her on camping trips, that had helped her hold a paintbrush when she was little.

“First, let’s start with the big pieces of land,” he said. “You know Earth is a big ball, right? Most of it is water, but the parts that aren’t are called *continents*.” <concept>continent</concept> *“Continents are the large, continuous landmasses that make up the Earth’s surface. For a long time, people counted six continents, but now most of the world uses seven, which is what this atlas uses.”* He pointed to the orange continent on the map. “This is *Asia* <concept>Asia</concept>. It’s the biggest continent, bigger than all the other six put together. You’ve been here, remember? We went to Beijing last year, climbed the Great Wall, ate dumplings that were so hot they made your eyes water.” Lila nodded, her hand flying to the sticker of the Great Wall she’d stuck on the map right above China. “Asia has the highest mountain in the world, Mount Everest, so tall that the top is always covered in snow, even in summer. It also has the longest river, the Yangtze, which flows all the way across China.”

He moved his finger to the yellow continent next to Asia. “This is *Africa* <concept>Africa</concept>, the second biggest continent. Most of it is savanna, big open grasslands with acacia trees, where giraffes, lions, and elephants live. You love that *Wild Kratts* show, right? The Kratt brothers go to Africa all the time to film the animals. Africa also has the biggest desert in the world, the Sahara, which is so big it’s almost as large as the whole United States. The sand dunes there are taller than this house.” Lila’s eyes went wide. She’d seen pictures of the Sahara in a book, the dunes looking like golden waves, and she’d always wanted to climb one.

His finger moved west, to the green continent on the left side of the map. “This is *North America* <concept>North America</concept>, where we live. It has three big countries: Canada, the United States, and Mexico. We went to Yellowstone National Park here last year, remember? You saw the bison, and the hot springs that were so bright blue they looked like they were glowing. You even collected a piece of obsidian from the side of the road, remember? It’s on your windowsill right now.” Lila grinned, she’d found that shiny black rock and had it in her pocket for a week, showing it to everyone at school.

“Below North America is *South America* <concept>South America</concept>, the red one. It has the biggest rainforest in the world, the Amazon, where it rains almost every day, and the trees are so tall you can’t see the top even if you stand on the roof of a ten-story building. There are pink dolphins that live in the Amazon River, and parrots that are every color of the rainbow. You drew a picture of a pink dolphin last month, remember? It’s taped to the fridge.” Lila nodded, she’d spent three hours on that drawing, using every pink crayon she had.

His finger moved down to the white continent at the very bottom of the map. “This is *Antarctica* <concept>Antarctica</concept>, the coldest, windiest, driest continent on Earth. It’s covered in ice that’s two miles thick in some places, and the temperature can drop to -80°F, which is 62 degrees colder than the coldest temperature ever recorded in their state. No one lives there permanently, only scientist