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Go at Photo copyright Andrea Gingerich; iStockphoto fiction Shaktoolik Mattox Roesch ometimes the smoke in the village was so thick, if you threw a rock you couldn't see it land. Other times there was just a haze. That week there had been forest fires twentyfive miles inland from Unalakleet. East winds had suffocated everything, putting some jobs on hold and even closing the school for a few days. And since all the planes were grounded--nothing was coming or leaving-- Go-Boy told me another week of this and AC Store would run out of food. But he laughed, FA L L 2 0 0 6 / T H E M I S S O U R I R E V I E W 1 2 1 and said, "We got fifteen bags of French fries in our freezer." I checked, and we did. Later that week, when the smoke had started to thin, Go-Boy left me a yellow note stuck to the on/off button of our TV: Meet me by the boat, two o'clock. We're spreading good news. There was a chance that Go would maybe give me the money I needed to move back home, so I didn't
The Missouri Review – University of Missouri
Published: Jan 8, 2006
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