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

Tiffany could hardly believe she’d taken part in their actions at the hospital. It seemed like a scene from someone else’s life, certainly not from hers. After sprinting across the parking lot and slamming herself shut in the cab of Teddy’s truck, she gathered the courage to peek over the dashboard. She spotted security guards running around inside the lit corridors of the hospital, black jackets whizzing past windows, through lobbies. Come on, Miranda, come on, she whispered. When she heard sirens coming from the streets behind her, she ducked to the floorboards. She closed her eyes as the red and blue lights passed, breathing as steadily as she could on the sandy floor mats. Did the police know which truck was theirs? They’d search the parking lot for sure. Tiffany swallowed. When the passenger door of the cab burst open, she couldn’t bear to look at her accusers. She just held her breath, waiting for a voice to command her to stay down, to move out of the cab, to read her her rights or whatever else it was police say when they arrest people. But it was Miranda’s voice that broke the silence. Tiffany, let’s go, Miranda hissed, slipping into the cab. Tiffany snapped back up into the driver’s seat, glanced at the empty cop cars blocking the hospital entrance, and then at Miranda, who was panting and untangling a small tuft of cedar needles from her hair. She had dirt on her face. Start the truck! All Tiffany could do was gape. Miranda stopped untangling her hair, placed a hand gently on Tiffany’s shoulder, spoke into her eyes. Tiffany, I did not just leap from a window to a pine tree to be arrested in the parking lot. In Jesus’ name, fly! The next part made Tiffany smile most, the way she turned the key and pumped the sloppy pedal all the way to the floor, the engine igniting and roaring to life. With her foot on both gas and brake, she yanked the truck in gear, popped the brake pedal, and fishtailed that big red pickup right across the median. She could still hear the squealing tires and see the empty cop cars in her rearview mirror, their turning lights drifting from sight.

Tiffany grinned at the stars. Madness, she thought.

“Okay,” said Miranda, “I think we’re ready.”

Miranda stooped over the canoe, touching the various packs and pieces of gear, tugging straps. They’d spent the morning packing for the trip—bedrolls and pillows, lighters, batteries, saltine crackers and peanut butter, cans of tuna, a hunting knife, and a twelve-gauge pump gun from Teddy’s cabinet. Constable Bobby, thankfully, had run out of cookies and left the farm. They spent the afternoon and early evening dragging the loaded canoe through fields and forests, miles of pines and brambles and boulders. Miranda didn’t want to leave the truck parked at any boat landings. If they hiked to the river, they could disappear. Tiffany cursed the branches and bugs. Miranda prayed out loud for a better path, and protection from mosquitoes. Then she took a shortcut, which proved to be even worse, dusk and mud and marsh, more bugs than before. But Tiffany was committed and irate by that point, and would have dragged the boat through a grass fire if it meant getting to the river any sooner.

“Water. Food. Extra blankets.” Miranda stood up. “We’re ready. Are we ready?”

“Just a sec,” said Tiffany. With all the gear in the canoe, there was only room left for two paddlers, bow and stern. It’d be a cramped ride, and no telling how long. They’d packed enough food and water for five days, but Tiffany drank four glasses of water to fully hydrate before leaving the farm. It made her nervous being away from amenities again. She ducked into the jack pines, found a place devoid of briars, and turned off her light as she squatted down in the grass. She became aware that now was her chance to turn back, but already knew she couldn’t. The thought of doing so seemed far worse than the bugs and mud and discomfort. She knew she’d stay with this woman, unreasonable as it seemed. When she returned to the riverbank, Miranda had set the paddles in place, bow and stern, and stood by the back of the canoe.

“Do you mind letting me steer?” Miranda asked. “I never asked how much paddling experience you had.”

“Very little, and no, just tell me what to do.”

“Hop in front, then. I’ll push us off. Wait. Do you want to pray?”

Tiffany shook her head.

“I’ll pray,” said Miranda, and folded her hands over her heart. “God,” she said, “be with us.”

“That’s it?” Tiffany expected something with a bit more gravity, given the seriousness of the endeavor, and given the way she’d already heard Miranda pray in the truck on the way back from the hospital. The woman was flighty.

Miranda nodded. “Hop in.”

Tiffany had no fear of water. She could swim fairly well, but the river was cold, and black, and the canoe felt awfully unsteady as it glided out into the current and nosed downstream. Tiffany clutched at the gunwales. The world was dark and fluid. She heard Miranda’s paddle stir the water, turning the canoe, and it felt to Tiffany as if they were tipping.

“Relax,” Miranda said. “Just let your hips absorb the roll. Don’t fight it.” The paddle stirred the water again, and the boat rocked again, and Tiffany deliberately forced herself to relax and loosen her grip on the sides of the canoe.

“That’s it,” said Miranda. “One with the water.”

“I have canoed before,” said Tiffany, “at a girls’ camp.” She looked out at the shoreline. Its shadows passed by very quickly. Already, the place where they’d put in was out of sight. The current pulled powerfully into the wilderness.

“Did you like it?” Miranda asked.

“We flipped.”

There was silence for a moment. Tiffany thought she heard Miranda smiling. “Tell you what,” Miranda said, “don’t paddle for a while.”

Tiffany wasn’t planning on it.

“Just