“Dad’s not gone, Mom,” he told her. “We can’t see him, but he’s not gone.”
His mom trembled. “You’re right,” she said, smiling through her tears. She kissed his head, smelled his hair, rubbed the bones and muscles in his back and shoulders. “He’s still here,” she whispered. “I can feel him.”
THE BOAT PITCHED. ITS SQUARE BOW LEAPT AND SLAPPED THE WATER. The sun was lower in the sky now, orange and red, and darkness would come soon. The moon rose. The soldiers tightened clamps of spotlights to gunwales. The breeze felt colder. Something about the air felt like heaviness, something about the transition of light, or the smell of the boat exhaust. The boats hummed, and Fish couldn’t put his finger on it. And then it struck him. It was the weight of a dead man, still buried in the river. They hadn’t found him. The soldiers talked to Cal about it in hushed tones, turned their backs to Fish and Bread. Fish tried to picture Bread’s dad down there, waving in some dark current, pinned in the rocks, but when he did, it mixed together in his tired mind with all the other ways the boys imagined saving Bread from his father. There was the time they buried him in the anthill. There was the time they ran him down with tractors. And now there was the time they went over a waterfall, and the bruin bear came, and how it all buried the man for good. Fish couldn’t hold it all in his mind.
The river spread out into a tangled maze of marshes and channels now. Fish’s grandpa pointed, then held up his hand. As they passed the bay where the storm had hit, all of the boats slowed down and gathered together. The trees were all topped off, the water still strewn with debris. Everyone watched the bay as it passed. There was silence and stillness except for the low thrum and pop of idling motors. Bread and Cal and Tiffany stared together at the wreckage. Fish stared at them and at it, and then looked upriver toward his grandfather. His grandpa was already looking back at him, and he gave Fish a nod. It was a slow nod, quiet, and Fish knew what it meant. It made something cold and brave rise inside him. Fish stirred in his seat. He and Bread were alive, but the darkness had come too close. It had come with so much force. And part of the heaviness Fish felt—and there was something of this in his grandfather’s nod, too—was the realization that the darkness would come again. He and Bread would grow up. They’d learn to drive cars. They’d become men like the sheriff and Fish’s grandpa, and the darkness would come for them again.
Fish scooted back more fully into his mother’s arms until the warmth returned. As the boats sped up, Fish’s mom pulled him into herself, her wrapped wrist over his chest, and Fish knew he didn’t have to face anything right now, not right here, not yet. The sound of the motors sang bright songs. The boats ran together in a tight pack. Fish closed his eyes and looked up into the setting sun, let the shadows of branches pass through it. The bow of the boat leapt and sprayed, the wake hissed like sand spilling across a wilderness, and Fish imagined his dad sitting on top of a bright dune, smiling back at him. And Fish knew, leaning on his mom, looking up at his dad, that when the darkness came again, he would beat it again. And so would Bread. They would beat it because they would just keep going, like his grandfather said. Fish opened his eyes and watched Bread across the water. The river shone. Bread’s face shone. Bread rested against Tiffany with his eyes closed, with Jacks draped across his lap. Tiffany’s eyes were closed too, her purple hair waving. Cal had his arm around them both.
And then Bread opened his eyes without stirring, looked right at Fish for the space of a breath or two. The air filled with the smell of river and cedar and dusk. And the two boys smiled at each other, with the sun and moon above them and the river beneath them, and the smile wasn’t joyful and it wasn’t sad. But it spoke. It said, I see you, Bread. It said, I see you, Fish. It said, You are strong and you are good, and you are not alone.
Acknowledgments
MANY THANKS TO THE TEAM AT ECCO, WITH SPECIAL THANKS TO my editor, Helen Atsma, for loving these characters as much as I do, and for guiding the book toward a wonderful fruition. Many thanks to Janet Silver and Maggie Cooper of Aevitas. Thank you, Janet, for your guidance and kindness and investment in my work. Thank you, Maggie, for your phenomenal reading and energy and belief, and for bringing so much life and precision to this story. Many thanks to my colleagues and friends in the ELML department, present and past—you are a noble lot. Many thanks to the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, with special thanks to Sam Chang, Marilynne Robinson, and James McPherson, who provided opportunity and wisdom for which I will always be grateful. Many thanks to the English department at Lawrence University, who taught me to love good books, with special thanks to author and mentor David McGlynn, who has always been there when the answers mattered most, and who first taught me how to sit in the chair and do the work of writing. Many thanks to my family, to my brothers for being the best sort of men, and to my parents, who gave much to provide a home in the Northwoods where their sons could holler and dream and sit in trees and swim in creeks and rivers. And many thanks to my wife, Heidi, for all the days and nights—you are strong and you are good, and you are not alone.
About the Author
ANDREW J. GRAFF grew up fishing, hiking, and hunting in Wisconsin’s Northwoods. After a tour of duty in Afghanistan, he earned an MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. Graff lives in Ohio with his wife and children.
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Copyright
RAFT OF STARS. Copyright © 2021 by Andrew J. Graff. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Cover design by Kimberly Glyder Design
Cover photographs © Drunaa/Trevillion Images (landscape) and Mark Owens/Trevillion Images (boys)
Ecco® and HarperCollins® are trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers.
FIRST EDITION
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Graff, Andrew J., author.
Title: Raft of stars : a novel / Andrew J. Graff.
Description: First edition. | New York, NY : Ecco, [2020] | Summary: “An instant classic, for fans of Huckleberry Finn, Peace Like a River, and Jim the Boy: when two hardscrabble young boys think they’ve committed a crime, they flee into the Northwoods of Wisconsin. Will the adults trying to find and protect them reach them before it’s too late?”— Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2020013622 (print) | LCCN 2020013623 (ebook) | ISBN 9780063031906 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780063031920 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Wisconsin—Fiction. | Forests and forestry—Fiction. | Runaway children—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3607.R32926 R34 2020 (print) | LCC PS3607.R32926 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020013622
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020013623
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Digital Edition MARCH 2021 ISBN: 978-0-06-303192-0
Version 02192021
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-303190-6
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