Free The Raft by S. A. Bodeen Page A

that’s for sure. A McDonald’s. A farm and ranch store. Subway. Rite-Aid. An old movie theater. But the screen was dark and the sound sucked.”
    I smiled. “We have an old theater on Midway.” My nose wrinkled. “It smells musty. There’s a DVD player rigged up so we can play movies on the big screen. Once I was in there by myself, watching an old World War II movie. All of a sudden, I felt like the theater was full, full of people. I turned around to see, but there was still only me.”
    Max went on. “At school, sports were pretty big, but I wasn’t, so I wrestled. Even though my natural weight was closer to a hundred thirty, I wrestled one twelve because seniors had the other slots all sewed up.” He paused. “That whole season, I was hungry. Starving.”
    My stomach rumbled. I knew how he felt.
    “Every night when I got home, dinner was a banana and fifty push-ups.”
    I shook my head. “That sounds barbaric.” But the thought of a banana was almost heavenly.
    “Not getting to drink as much water as I wanted was almost worse.”
    As dry as my throat was, I had to agree with that.
    “But the absolute worst was Christmas. I didn’t get to eat any of Ma’s cookies. She made fudge, divinity, caramel pretzels, cookies with chunks of Snickers in them, some with Rolos. Spritz. My favorites were the frosted snowmen sugar cookies.”
    I licked my parched lips. I wanted one of those snowmen. So bad.
    He continued. “Once, the night before a tournament, I went down to the kitchen after everyone was asleep. I told myself I was just going to get a glass of water. But instead, I went into the pantry where all the cookies were. I thought, just one. One Spritz wreath. A hundred fifty calories. I could run those off in a half hour. But it was so good, I ate another. A blue diamond. Another, a green cross … then the snowmen … the snickerdoodles.” He stopped for a moment. “Peanut-butter cookies with the chocolate kiss in the middle.”
    “I make those with my mom.” I teared up a little.
    “How many calories? Ten thousand? And I had to make one twelve in less than eight hours. I started to sweat, maybe from all the sugar … maybe from panic. There was only one thing to do: I went over to the backdoor and stepped into my work boots without tying the laces. Got a jacket on and scuffed outside to the nearest snowbank. Snow was falling, and the flakes sparkled in the moonlight. I admired the night for a moment. Then, I stuck my finger down my throat.”
    I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything.
    “It was dumb, eating all those cookies. I was just so hungry.”
    I knew the feeling.

 
    thirty-one
    Max was still, his eyes closed again.
    How strange, to learn so much about him all at once. Though I still didn’t know who the thumbprint belonged to. I wanted to ask, but I got the feeling it wasn’t any of my business. I would only learn what he wanted to tell me, and that had to be enough.
    For now.
    Once more, the sun was low in the sky. Our second full day at sea was almost over. If anyone had ever asked how long I thought I could survive in a raft on the sea, I’d have said I couldn’t do it at all. Nothing in my life had ever prepared me for something like that. It wasn’t like my home-school curriculum included Survival at Sea.
    Still, I was coming up on forty-eight hours of survival. Which made me feel …
    Nothing.
    No, that wasn’t right. I felt something.
    Numb. Blurred. Fuzzy.
    Dulled.
    Like none of it was real. Except for the hunger pangs in my stomach.
    I’d never been without food or water this long. Once in a while I’d gone without lunch or something, but there’s a big difference between missing lunch and not knowing if you’ll eat again.
    I was thirsty and ravenously hungry, especially after hearing about the cookies. My nose had started throbbing. I didn’t even try to touch it. Thinking about the last time was enough to make me shudder as I relived the fireball of