Read Online Ice Island by Sherry Shahan - Free Book Online

everywhere—learning everything I could teach him. He could not wait until he was old enough to go whale hunting. One spring a boat capsized and people drowned. Now his mother forbids him to go out with us.”
    Tatum didn’t know what to say to this. She watched Grandfather stretch a tanned skin over the hull.
    “I soak the walrus skin in salt water,” he said. “That is the best way to loosen the hair from the hide. Only then do I stitch the skins together.”
    She didn’t ask if he wanted help. Repairing a boat was man’s work.
    “Life outside is changing our world. We are losing our culture, losing our roots. How can a living thing grow if its roots are cut? Half of our village is on welfare, and few of us can afford the high-priced food in the store. Many of our men drink too much.”
    Tatum knew he didn’t expect an answer.
    “Cole is the only young person in our village who uses a
qamiiyek
—I mean, a
sled
to go to school. He knows ATVs scare the seals.
    “He will never leave the island, not like the others with their dreams of fast cars and fancy houses. The spirits live inside him. They live inside you too, little
kass’aq.
” He looked up, his dark eyes shining. “Remember that and you will always be safe.”
    He nodded with a gentle smile. It was the kind of smile that reaches out. “We are all part of the land,” he said softly.
    •  •  •
    Later in the afternoon, Tatum gave Bandit a good brushing, then settled on the couch with her notebook. Her mom had given her a choice of three essays:
Global warming—fact or fiction? What would the earth look like if we didn’t recycle? Is sled-dog racing cruel to animals?
    Tatum chose the last one. She could write a book about how well mushers treated their dogs. Dog food was flown to checkpoints before the race. Bales of straw were dropped for bedding. Key spots had vets in case dogs needed special attention. These dogs loved to pull. They lived to run.
    She smiled at Bandit. “Want to go out again tomorrow?” Bandit licked the air excitedly.
    Tatum had just finished writing an outline for her essay when the front door flew open. Cole came in, bareheaded. Not even a parka. Just an old sweatshirt splattered with paint. He set a squat jar on the coffee table. “Pickled gull eggs. They’re sour, like dill pickles.”
    She studied the water in the jar. It was a weird green. “Thanks.”
    His eyes landed on the picture on the TV.
    Tatum closed her notebook. “That’s my dad as a kid. He grew up in Homer.”
    Cole dropped into a chair, looking at home in the lodge. “He had sled dogs?”
    “Yeah, he ran the Jr. Iditarod a couple of times. Then hisfamily moved to Oregon,” she said. “He brought us back here a little over two years ago. He’s working in Prudhoe Bay for the winter.”
    “Drilling?”
    She nodded. “And construction.”
    “My father was on the first pipeline crew,” Cole said. “Now he and my mother work in a fish-canning plant in Ketchikan. At night Mom makes booties for my dogs. She says each stitch brings us closer together.”
    He picked paint off his fingers, talking about his brothers and sisters. “They left the island after high school to find work. They promised to come back, and who knows, Johnny might. He loves it here … loves to hunt. A good hunter can still make a decent living.
    “Next time I’ll bring pickled moose stomach,” he said, getting up and stretching. “It’s sweeter.”
    Tatum made a face.
    “Gotcha!” He paused at the door, as if he’d forgotten something. “I saw you out there with your dog. My team could use some competition before Kotzebue.” He shrugged. “Just a short run—twenty or thirty miles. No one around here is interested.”
    Tatum forced herself to breathe. Was he serious?
    “Thought I’d go out in the morning before school,” he said, opening the door. “If you’re up for it?”
    Tatum and her mom were flying back to Nome the day after tomorrow. It was now or