Shadows Cast by Stars Read Online Free PDF

I’m sure no one is looking, I throw it as far as I can. It floats on the water for a brief moment before it starts to sink. Madda, who’s still down on the docks, notices and fishes it out. She tucks it into her pocket and then turns back to her work.
    I ball my hands into fists. Why should I care if the girl didn’t want the necklace? But it wasn’t the refusal. It wasthe way she refused it that’s left me feeling hollow inside. She’s back in the truck now, the door open. Paul leans against it, smiling. I should be happy that he’s making a friend, but I’m not, though I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s that she didn’t help us. Maybe it’s the look in my brother’s eyes, the one that says he’s smitten. Maybe it’s the look in her eyes, the one that says she knows.
    The engine finally roars to life. “All right, everyone back in,” my father says as he slams the hood down.
    I cast one more look at the estuary. The ebbing tide has created ripples of green water that look like a humpbacked monster, and a seal floats away on the current.
    But no raven. Maybe there never was.
    I turn away and refuse to think about what that might mean.

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    O ur path takes us through the forest. Ancient firs reach toward the sky as if they want to claim the sun for themselves. This forest is a dark, still place. The only sound is the truck, rumbling and grinding its way along the road. The trees aren’t happy that we are disturbing their slumber, so I close my eyes and wish for them to rest, to sleep. We mean no harm , I say. We only want to pass through .
    Whether the forest understands my silent request, I don’t know. I have no idea whether it does any good at all, but an offering, even one as meager as a thought, is something at least.
    And then the forest gives way and the town appears.
    The town had a name once, but names have little meaning anymore in this world where humanity is crammedinto population corridors, where numbers designate quarantine grids, where people are divided into Others and non-Others. A main street runs east to west, disappearing into more old forest. Buildings flank the street. Some of them are derelict, with broken windows and sloughing paint. One, in better repair than the rest, has STORE painted in blue across its pediment. A dark-haired girl sits on its steps, weaving a basket. A little ways away, sunlight glints off the bell in an old church’s belfry. Scorch marks race up the church’s side, and boards over the windows prevent anyone from looking in or the church from looking out.
    Standing at the top of the street, closest to the forest, is the longhouse. A green-and-red thunderbird rests on the apex of its roof, and flanking each corner is a watchman, gazing down on us with stern eyes. Their arms are not raised in welcome. No one may enter.
    I may not enter.
    Across the street, a path leads out to a park. Women stand out there, clustered around a fire, where racks of oolichan cure above the coals. The whole place reeks of smoke and fish, and my mouth fills with saliva. We haven’t eaten since yesterday evening, and even though I don’t really like oolichan, right now, I’m not choosy.
    The man stops the truck at the store. He gets out,nods at my father, and stomps up the steps, disappearing inside.
    My father watches him, then jumps out. “I’ve got something to take care of,” he says. “Wait here.” A man in a cowboy hat meets him halfway up the steps. They shake hands before heading inside. The girl on the steps doesn’t even look up. She just keeps weaving her basket.
    Paul and I exchange curious looks. We’ve heard of this place all our lives. It was a mining town long ago, filled with Chinese immigrants who came to dig coal from the earth’s bones, but Others lived here long before that, steeping the land in their legends, their stories. Our father told us those stories, of a raven pulling a man from a seashell, of mountains that swallow people whole, of the