Page 11 of A Summer to Save Us

River reads the text and laughs hard. “Sure, a girl problem.” Then his expression darkens, almost like it did this morning when he ran in front of James’ car.

“You don’t seriously think I’m going to let you go anywhere alone, do you?

You’ll end up running away from me again or drowning yourself in the toilet. ”

A police car passes us without its lights on.

I shake my head and press my lips together.

He sighs. “Okay. We’ll stop. But just so you know, I don’t believe you, and I’m going to keep an eye on you.”

We turn onto Sunset Drive, and River signals to pull into the gas station. This is where James, Ari, and I always used to buy ice cream before riding on to the oil refinery.

River gets out with me. He enters the aging gas station shop in front of me, and I automatically let my hair fall over my face and stare at my narrow feet in the dark green flip-flops. Hopefully, no one speaks to me. Please, just let everyone talk to River!

“That’s what happens when you throw your bag into Willow River. Get your stuff. I’ll pay.”

I stand there, frozen. I can’t buy tampons and pads when he’s around. He may be visually imagining me using the tampon. Oh God!

He obviously notices my embarrassment because he naturally grabs a pack of tampons. Mini!

My cheeks flush as if I’d stuck my head in an oven.

“Will these do?” he asks as casually as if it was a box of candy.

I believe I nod because River, unmoved, also grabs a pack of sanitary pads and saunters to the cash register, humming. He seems happy, but I have no idea why.

I stop about ten feet from the counter and consider fleeing as he pays, but he keeps looking back at me.

He asks for more cigarettes and gives the young man in the overalls a hundred-dollar bill from a wad.

A thick wad. Wow! Where did he get all that money?

He doesn’t look like one of the Hills, and he certainly doesn’t live here in Cottage Grove because Arizona would have noticed him much earlier.

Cottage Grove isn’t exactly a backwater, but it’s not a big city either.

Attractive guys like him don’t stay undiscovered for long, especially not if they have money.

River turns to me again, and I look away, uncomfortable, my eyes lingering on the magazine rack. Absentmindedly, I skim the headlines.

Demons ’N Saints cancel summer tour. Asher Blackwell—how sick is he really?

Ben Adams’ dramatic escape from prison! Correction officer in critical condition .

Meredith Fox—a portrait of an unusual artist. Everything about her opening in Las Vegas on page 7 .

Key witness Taylor Harden still missing. Read more about the former Desperados member .

My heart beats faster. I need this newspaper.

My phone buzzes.

Mr. Spock, I’m sure. I had almost forgotten about him. We always text each other during lunch break, and I immediately feel guilty.

With bright red cheeks, I accept the tampons from River and frantically think about how I’m going to get this newspaper since I don’t want to buy it myself.

River stops suddenly in front of the ladies’ restroom. I look at him, not comprehending.

“Go on!” Oh, yes! I remember my cover story. “But don’t get any ideas in there. Do you have a blade?”

My face must show that I’m at a loss as to what he means, which seems obvious because he adds, “A razor blade, of course. Or do you carry a sword hidden on your body? I should know about it, considering I’m taking you with me, right?”

What is he thinking? That I try to kill myself three times a day? He doesn’t even know me. He knows nothing about me, just as I don’t know anything about him. I shake my head.

“I don’t want to search you. The owner might misunderstand.” He leans his shoulder against the wall, folds his arms across his chest, and looks at me sternly. “If you’re not back in five minutes, I’m coming in. This girl thing can’t last any longer, I guess.”

Uh, no . I quickly disappear into the restroom, stuff the tampons into my pants pocket, and pull my cell phone out of the other to answer Mr. Spock. I unlock the screen and discover a video that was sent to me.

In the preview, I see Chester’s face, a slight smile on his lips.

I’d like to delete it immediately, but a sick impulse forces me to press play.

He holds his cell phone horizontally, looking directly into the camera.

“Hey, Kansas,” he says, sounding so harmless, I could punch something.

“I missed you in art class. Are you skipping again? You know we don’t like that, right?

I don’t like it.” The smile fades. “By the way, I’ve put together a secret group.

A Silent Girl in Trouble . Good name, right?

” He bites his lower lip and looks as innocent as a lamb, except for the glimmer in his watery eyes.

He can’t hide it, not when it comes to me. He is the wolf.

God, how I loathe him.

“The group already has fifteen members, all of them from school, and the number is increasing.”

Breathing suddenly becomes difficult. The image blurs before my eyes, and I only hear his voice, which is now growing darker.

“Tomorrow after school, come to me, Kansas. Maybe I can help you. I’m sure I can find a way to change the boys’ minds.”

The screen goes black, and something happens to the recording. When I click on it again, the video stops working, and suddenly, it disappears as if it destroyed itself. I press the screen like a madman, but it’s gone.

Shortly after, my phone buzzes again. A voice memo from Chester.

“You can’t restore it, Kans.”

Kans—that’s what he calls me when no one is listening. And he says it every time with that conspiratorial tone that sounds confidential but strikes me as a threat.

I watch in horror as this message also simply disappears into thin air. I don’t know how long I’ve been standing at the counter.

What should I do now? River is still out there waiting, and I have no idea what to do next. I don’t even know where he’s going. To the land of dreams?

I shakily put my phone in my pocket, and I cringe when I look up and see River in the mirror. He’s right behind me. His blond hair falls over his oval face, and his expression is inscrutable.

“It took too long.” His voice is so dark it sends a shiver down my spine. For a moment, I think about how angry he looked this morning.

I quickly avoid his gaze in the mirror. I’m closer to crying than ever before. I’m A Silent Girl in Trouble . I swallow before looking at him again.

“You look terrible, Kentucky. Were you planning on doing something stupid again?”

I shake my head with pursed lips.

“Hey!” He puts a hand on my shoulder from behind but quickly removes it when I instinctively clench my fist. A sharp pain pulsates from my palm to my forearm. My skin burns much more than usual in the sore area.

“It’s okay.” He crosses his arms as if to signal that he won’t touch me anymore. “Is there anyone you want to say goodbye to before we leave?”

I answer again by shaking my head, and he points toward the door. “If we leave now, we’ll reach South Dakota and the Black Hills today. By the way, it’s also a good place for the final jump. Have you ever been there?”

With a dry mouth, I shake my head a third time. I’m so tired, so exhausted. I feel hollow.

He smiles encouragingly at me. “We can sleep out in the open, in a tent, or in a motel, whatever you want.”

Whatever I want? I don’t want to sleep next to a stranger at all. Who knows what River might expect from me if I go with him? I feel overwhelmed, but there’s no turning back.

Can you buy me a newspaper? I type with unsteady fingers, trying to ignore his smell of forest, herbs, and leather. It sickens me to think that I’m going to be with him all the time. Not because of him specifically, but because I’ve never been anywhere with a guy apart from the ones who bully me.

River looks at me strangely. “A newspaper?” he asks grumpily.

Please! I’ll give you the money.

“Don’t worry about it.” He sighs and points at me. “Just wait.”

Oh, that’s why he appeared so upset. He thought I was up to something.

He buys a Minnesota Today and hands it to me. I won’t look at it yet and save it for later; I don’t want River to know what I’m reading.

We go back to the Porsche together, and I’m shocked as I look at the back of the car.

He has a lightning-shaped scratch on the right rear side.

It’s no coincidence—the Porsche looks just like Chester’s.

It is Chester’s. I’m quite sure. Just last week, David Cassidy, a.k.a.

Snoop from the ninth grade, crashed his bike into it.

Chester allegedly slapped him and had his cronies strip Snoop naked.

Then, he had to run around the lacrosse field three times with no clothes on.

I don’t know if the story is true; I only heard it because Chester and Hunter locked me in my locker, and the principal’s daughter, Abigail, came over and told her friends about it.

It was the first time that I considered Mr. Spock might be Snoop.

However, the rest doesn’t fit with what I know about Mr. Spock because, supposedly, he doesn’t speak either.

So, McFarley, you stole the car, I think and grip the newspaper tighter. I look at the scratch with an uneasy feeling.

Should I confront him about it? What if he gets angry and leaves me here? Now that I’ve seen that video, I’m looking forward to going away with him. Better him than fifteen other boys. And better him than Chester Davenport.

It’s better if I don’t let on.

Quite naturally, River holds the passenger door open for me, and I get in with a fluttering feeling in my stomach. Is that why he was in such a hurry this morning and ran in front of James’ car? Did he want to steal a car?

“Let’s go!” He drops decisively into the driver’s seat and slams the door.

I nod, and the fluttering feeling becomes a gigantic eagle with a six-foot wingspan.

River studies me with his blue eyes. They contrast sharply with his tan, white T-shirt, and blond hair. “So, you’re sure? Because I’m not coming back if you change your mind.”

Obviously, I wouldn’t either if I had stolen such a conspicuous car, which also belongs to the son of the esteemed Chief of Staff at the hospital. But he certainly doesn’t know that. Yes , I type. Eighty percent sure .

He revs the engine while continuing to stare at me. “That’s good enough.” His long, thick eyelashes cast a halo of shadows under his eyes, and I have to look away because I get far too nervous when he stares at me so intently. Like he knows who I am or as if I’m part of a bigger plan.

To my surprise, River returns the same way and stops on the side of the road a few miles past the oil refinery. Except for the rushing of the river, there’s no sound.

“We were up there before.” He points toward the mountains, and only then do I spot the Old Sheriff.

Did he spot me from down here and decide to save me?

What were you doing up there? I ask in my head but don’t type it. Was I really up there only a short time ago?

“Did I tell you about the letter that was found on the desk of a Golden Gate jumper in 1963?”

I look at him expectantly as he revs the engine.

“He wrote, ‘I will go to the bridge now. If just one person smiles at me along the way, I won’t jump...’ He disappeared forever.”

With these words, River drives off, and the feeling of broad wings in my stomach spreads as if I were about to take off with the Porsche.

I don’t think about the fact that I don’t have any clothes or a toothbrush with me. I have my ID and a handful of dollars in my wallet, but nothing more. That doesn’t matter either.

It could be fate that River found me today.

Maybe this is my last exit before my road leads to nowhere—or into the abyss.

It’s my last chance at a normal life. A chance to get all my unsaid words out.

Or maybe I’m just so desperate that this is nothing more than an act of cowardice—what James used to call Mom’s running away when he got older.