The DOCK BOY of RAINY LAKE
Fourteen-year-old Will slips on a life jacket, shoves the boat away from the dock, and quicksteps onto the bow. He takes two strides to the back of his boat, tilts the prop of the fifteen-horsepower motor into the water, flips a switch, and with a yank of a cord, the engine snaps to life. It’s 6:20 a.m., and he heads east on Rainy Lake for work.
He squints at the orange-pink sky that fades into a light blue. Sunglasses slide over his eyes as the boat skips across the mirror lake surface and the engine whines. Grass-green patches of wild rice and cattails line the coves and bays. Goldeneye and mallard ducks paddle out of his way. Loons with babies on their backs laugh at him, and bald eagles glide overhead. If he’s lucky, he’ll spot otters and deer, a wolf, or a bear along the shore, which is lined with pine, birch, and tamarack trees.
A mile later, he drives down the channel past Stop Island
