Raft of Stars by Andrew Graff (good books for high schoolers .txt) 📕

once before, or at least planned to, but he never made it up the porch steps, never got out of his car in fact. But now necessity brought him here, at four in the morning. Jacks needed a place to stay. He and Teddy would be traveling on horseback, and Cal had seen how fast horses ran in the Westerns, and he didn’t like the thought of Jacks bursting his heart trying to keep up. Cal cleared his throat again. The sky to the east was beginning to color. Cal rapped his knuckles on the aluminum screen door, gently at first, then a bit louder. He looked out at the yard. His truck sat idling in the driveway next to a cherry-red Ford Fiesta with a dent in its front quarter panel, the car usually parked outside the Sit & Go gas station. Cal turned to knock again, but as he did, a porch light blinded him.

“I’ll call the cops!” threatened a woman’s voice from within. The sheriff couldn’t see through the screen into the dark house. Jacks barked and growled. Cal held his hands up.

“Tiff?” he said.

“Sheriff Cal?”

“Yeah.”

Silence came from within.

Cal shifted his weight on his feet, squinted his eyes. “Tiff, you ain’t pointing a gun at me, are you?”

A light came on inside, and Tiffany Robins appeared. She carried a baseball bat in her hand and wore a T-shirt that came down about midthigh. She leaned the bat against the wall and tucked her hair behind her ears, unlocked the screen door.

“Sheriff,” she said sleepily. “Hey.”

Cal lowered his hands. Jacks grumbled, but Cal reached down and smoothed the fur on his back. “Relax, boy.”

“Sorry for the bat,” she said.

Cal wagged his chin. “Sorry for waking you up.”

The two stood on the porch for a moment, and Cal actually forgot what he came to say. Tiffany was pretty, there was no denying it. Cal always thought so. And she looked even prettier now, half asleep. Her legs flowed out of her shirt toward smooth bare feet. Cal didn’t know where to look at her. He tried her eyes, but the sleepiness in them felt somehow as intimate as her legs. He nearly turned to walk away.

“You want some coffee?” she asked.

“No, Tiff, I didn’t want to bother you. I just—”

“Come in,” she said, already turning inside, her voice waking up. “It’s cold. Your dog can come. Come in. Give me a sec.” She turned on the kitchen light and then disappeared into a darkened hallway. Cal stepped into the kitchen, took off his hat. There was a Formica table with two chrome-legged chairs in the center of the room. He wasn’t asked to sit down, so he didn’t, but he placed his hat on the table next to a few bills and a pen or two. He looked closer and saw writing on all the papers, just words, rhyming words, lines scribbled out. Silver furred, musk and haunch. And on an unopened utility bill: She is den born, moon born, speed and fire and bristle. Cal rubbed his eyes and face. He was in need of a shave. He must have looked like an absolute fool out there on the porch, barely able to speak. He shook his head. Useless. It gave him the same sensation he’d felt in Teddy’s kitchen when Teddy mentioned Fischer’s sustained lie about his dad. Cal didn’t think he had to think about that anymore. He blew the thought away. He would leave if he wasn’t already standing in the kitchen. Jacks sniffed at something under the table, found a spot to lie down.

A thud came from the darkened hallway. Then Cal heard what sounded like coat hangers being pushed rapidly aside. A muffled Dang it came from within.

The sheriff opened his mouth to ask if she was okay, but closed it again. A coffee pot sat on the counter. He knew Tiffany well enough to know she wouldn’t let him leave without making him a cup. Maybe he could help things along. “Tiff,” he called out, “you want me to start the coffee?”

More drawers, and now a running sink. “What’s that, Sheriff?” she called out.

“The coffee, do you want me to make it?”

He couldn’t be sure, but Cal thought he heard a blow-dryer come briefly to life.

“Just a sec,” she called back.

The sheriff decided to sit down on one of the chairs, just in time to stand up again. Jacks stood and barked. Tiffany appeared wearing tight-fitting blue jeans and a gray V-neck sweater. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her purple bangs framed her eyes. Because of his frequent coffee stops at the Sit & Go, she was the closest thing he had to a friend in town. Being a sheriff was kind of like being a pastor or a doctor. One gets to know the most intimate things without ever really becoming close to anybody. There was something uncomfortably paternal about it all. Cal couldn’t have real conversations with most of the people he knew, let alone ask one out on a date. He once drove thirty miles, from his cabin to Claypot, to ask Tiffany out, offer to take her to see Jurassic Park, which people said was pretty great. That’s how he’d planned to say it, People say it’s pretty great, the dinosaurs, and I was wondering if, but he couldn’t get the thing right in his mouth. When he got there, he drove right past her house. He didn’t even tap the brake. She wouldn’t be interested, and he’d be a fool. People would get the wrong idea if she said yes. A sheriff needed to remain aloof. He thought he would have learned that by now, given what had happened back home. Home. Texas. Why was he here in this awful North?

“Tiff, I really don’t have much time. Me and Ted, we—”

She smiled at him as he spoke, and turned to the cupboard to make some coffee. Cal caught a glimpse of a pack of