I looked in the back seat again cuz I couldn't hear the baby but the TV box was still there and the baby was in it and his arms was swimming out and you could see the windshield wipers slashing through his little blue eyes and I gave him my frostbite hand and he took it and put it in his mouth and I tried singing that "Hushabye Mountain" song to him but I couldn't get the words right cuz my teeth was chattering.
Then I looked out through the windshield again and Boobie kept walking backwards, smaller and smaller, and the snow was thick and white and sideways but you could still see how his hair was lifting off his shoulders. He raised his hand up like he was trying to say goodbye and even though he was far away now I put my good hand up and tried to touch him through the glass.
And I called out to him, too. I used the voice in my throat and the voice in my heart and the voice in my guts and the psychic voice in my mind, but Boobie couldn't hear me.
And I called out again and again till his hand fell and he started to fade, floating back and back, disappearing through the snowing trees.
33 SNOWFISH by Adam Rapp. Copyright (c) 2006 by Adam Rapp. Published by Candlewick Press, Inc., Cambridge, MA.
"Adam Rapp's brilliant and haunting story will break your heart. But then his words will mend it. . . . Absolutely unforgettable." - Michael Cart
On the run in a stolen car with a kidnapped baby in tow, Custis, Curl, and Boobie are three young people with deeply troubled pasts and bleak futures. As they struggle to find a new life for themselves, it becomes painfully clear that none of them will ever be able to leave the past behind. Yet for one, redemption is waiting in the unlikeliest of places.
With the raw language of the street and lyrical, stream-of-consciousness prose, Adam Rapp hurtles the reader into a world of lost children, a world that is not for the faint of heart. Gripping, disturbing, and starkly illuminating, his hypnotic narration captures the voices of two damaged souls - a third speaks only through drawings - to tell a story of alienation, deprivation, and ultimately, the saving power of compassion.