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

son sat cliffside now, looking off at the river. Miranda turned to talk to him, and Fish turned and smiled, and the two would look out to the river again, Fischer melting into his mom.

Tiffany noticed Bread watching too. He sat very still, so she squeezed his shoulders a little, and he looked up at her. He seemed on the edge of tears, and that was to be expected given all that had happened. He didn’t have a parent to meet him. Tiffany felt her throat get tight, but decided to swallow it back and straighten herself up a bit.

“What’s your favorite kind of food?” she asked him.

Bread thought for a moment. “I like spaghetti,” he said.

“Me too,” she said. “And what about dessert?”

“I like pie.”

“What kind of pie?”

“Apple.”

Tiffany nodded knowingly, as if apple was a very wise choice.

“What do you say, when we get back to town, I take you to the Sunrise Café and you and I absolutely stuff ourselves with spaghetti and apple pie.”

Bread smiled at the thought. “They have malts there too,” he said, a little embarrassed.

Tiffany wiped the embarrassment and a tear right off his face. Smoothed his hair in her hand. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said. “Malts are a given.”

Bread beamed, and his eye caught Teddy, sleeping under the tree. Bread felt for something in his pocket.

“Tiffany, would you excuse me?”

She released him, surprised by his formality, and nodded accordingly.

She watched Bread walk over to where Teddy dozed. Bread spoke and Teddy lifted his cap and smiled tiredly at the boy. He leaned up on his elbow and patted the ground by his side. He stifled a yawn and wiped his eyes while Bread shifted in place. The boy held out something small and metallic in his hands.

Tiffany watched this as Cal sat down at her side.

“We’ll get moving upriver in a few minutes,” he said. “More boats are on the way. It will be easier than the hike down to Ironsford.”

“Good,” said Tiff distractedly, and then nodded toward Teddy and the boy. Teddy had sat upright and accepted the offering. He turned the barlow knife in his hands and then unfolded it. He wiped the blade a few times between his fingers. Held the edge up to the sunlight, tested its sharpness with his thumb. He stared at it for a moment, nodded, folded the blade, and handed it back to Bread. Teddy said a few words, and Bread’s face brightened, and Teddy patted the boy on the hip. Bread turned and bounded back toward Tiffany. Teddy fell back on the pine needles, hat back over his eyes and a grin on his face. She was amazed at the way the youth seemed capable of rallying so fast. And she was humbled by it too. For a boy to be so good-hearted after surviving so awful a father was a testament to his strength and spirit. Bread’s smile brought tears to her eyes. Made her sit up straighter.

“Are you going to take me shooting now?” Tiffany asked.

Cal smirked. “I lost my gun,” he said, and shook his head, but then he took a deep breath, looked at the sky. “I’m thinking of farming, Tiffany. I am thinking of buying a farm.”

“Farming,” Tiffany said, with a bit more surprise than she intended.

Cal winced, looked at his boot.

Tiffany put a hand on his arm. She imagined him strolling up some gravel drive with a rake or a bucket in his hand, a rag in his pocket, suntanned, dusty.

“Cal, it’s good,” she said. “I can really see it, and it’s good.”

He looked at her and smiled.

“Can I come over to your farm?” she asked.

“That’s all I want,” he said very quickly, which made Tiffany stare right into his eyes, and her face colored. She was still looking at him when Constable Bobby strode up to them, hiked his pant leg, and put one foot up on the rock.

“Well, Sheriff, not much to do but get back and start the paperwork.” Bobby sighed heavily at the thought. “Gonna be plenty of that. And that Breadwin boy.” Bobby clicked his tongue. “Gonna have some extra work there getting some fosters lined up. Oh well, plenty of good fosters in the county, a mama and a papa and maybe a dog too.”

“Bobby,” said Cal.

“But then, of course, you got to do the state’s paper—”

“Bobby,” said Cal, more curtly this time. Bread was approaching the group, still wearing a smile. He rubbed the barlow knife with his thumbs.

“We’ll sort that out later,” Cal said.

Tiffany looked at Cal’s eyes. The thought of Bread going to live with strangers set an unbearable pang in her chest. She envisioned him walking through the slush in his sneakers, same as before, saw his face with all that shame and pride in it. She felt all of her own lonely years pile up inside her. Never again, she thought, and knew it like she knew she had bones. She was not going to let that happen to this boy. She gripped Cal’s hand and stared at him until he recognized the fire in her eyes. She would not, under any circumstances, let that boy be taken away. She’d pitch a tent outside the courthouse and live in it all summer if she had to. She’d work double shifts, buy a house, plant a garden, fill her cupboards to overflowing, to prove she was worthy of him. Tiffany was adopting a little brother, and there was no height or depth or power that could stop her. He was now part of her tribe.

Cal seemed to see it in her, and he put his hand on her hand and held it tight, gave her a nod. He felt it too.

Bobby turned and pulled up his belt when Bread arrived. “Say, this young man has got himself a real fine pocketknife.”

Bread sat between Tiffany’s legs, lifted his trophy up to her. She smiled at it.

“He said I took good care of it and I