Page 18 of A Summer to Save Us

“We only have one room left,” the black-haired girl at check-in explains, tapping her cherry-red painted nails on the motel counter.

I try not to stare at her breasts spilling out of her leather bodice like rising yeast dough, but it’s next to impossible. And River seems to feel the same way.

“Then we’ll take the last room.” He seems to be speaking to her breasts, but what did I expect? He’s a man, after all, no matter how perfect he is. He casually pulls out his wallet without taking his eyes off her ample bosom.

“A double room? Isn’t she a little young for you?” The black-haired woman nods at me and blows her chewing gum into a bubble.

“My sister. She’s eighteen, but she looks younger.” River lies as easily as Arizona when she’s hiding a party from Dad.

Bang! The gum bursts in the receptionist’s face.

She sucks it back in and happily continues chewing.

“I’m Mariah, by the way. I’m off work in an hour.

There’s a little bar across the road.” She looks at me like I’m some mutated Staphylococcus.

“Under twenty-one not admitted.” She stretches, and the leather of her bodice creaks as if it might burst under the weight of her breasts.

River’s eyes widen. “Sounds good.” He grins as if someone had given him the key to paradise. In this moment, he doesn’t seem at all like someone who hates himself or wants to jump.

I feel a nasty stab in my chest, but I should be happy that he wants to unload his testosterone elsewhere.

Last night, it was so explosive in the tent that I was afraid it might catch fire.

With a strange feeling in my stomach, I turn from them before Mariah tries to speak to me and my silence embarrasses me.

Strangely enough, it’s much easier to be around people with River by my side.

Just like it used to be in middle school with Arizona.

The thought of my sister briefly overshadows everything that happened today, but I push it away.

I don’t want to think about anything from Cottage Grove.

After some banter about Jack Daniel’s and other types of whiskey, River pays the young woman in advance, and I follow him toward the double room with mixed feelings.

Once River unlocks and opens the door, the first thing I see is the lumpy double bed.

It stands against the wall, taking up almost the entire room as if it wanted to send us a message.

There are dark-colored nightstands with tiny lamps on both sides, plus a table and two chairs.

A naked light bulb dangles from the ceiling.

“Tourist rip-off,” River says sullenly, hitting the light bulb so that it swings back and forth. He brought his sports bag with him, and all I have is my newspaper. I place it neatly on one of the bedside tables and sit on the edge of the bed.

“And?” River falls onto the bed and spreads his arms and legs out like a starfish.

I had my phone turned off all day long, so now I turn it on. Thirteen percent left.

I need a charging cable! I type for River, not replying to his question. He doesn’t have to ask my permission if he wants to meet Mariah.

He reads my words. “I’d say take mine, but it doesn’t fit your phone. We can buy one for you tomorrow. So, did you think about your Big Five?”

I look intently at my fingernails, which have a black crust of dirt underneath. Not good for my wounds. Okay, he didn’t mean Mariah.

River gets up, rummages in his bag, and then puts a pad and pencil on the bed where I’m sitting. “Since your cell phone is almost dead, use this. Do you want to shower first, or should I?”

I point at him. I have to look at the messages I received from Dad first.

“Okay. You might as well think about your Big Five.” He raises his finger in warning like a teacher calling his students to order.

Do you also have a list of your Big Five? I write on the pad.

“Nice handwriting, Tucks.” He winks at me. “Sure, I have a list.”

And what’s on it?

“I won’t say. Not yet.”

Do you have a family?

“Unfortunately. You?”

My dad. And Arizona and Jamesville.

“The finger-on-map principle is merciless, isn’t it?” He laughs.

We call him James.

“I would have called him Ville.”

Why do you hate yourself? I would like to ask him, but he hasn’t asked about my silence yet, and I find it too personal. I’d better not ask about June, either. How long have you been folding origami? I write instead.

“Long time.”

As long as you run lines?

Longer than I’ve been snorting lines.

He writes the last on the pad before grabbing his shower stuff out of his bag and disappearing into the bathroom.

What are your Big Five, Spock? I ask Mr. Spock on my phone when River is finally in the shower, briefly explaining to him what they are.

Of course, I also ask how his arm is doing, even though he probably doesn’t want to talk about it.

Mr. Spock doesn’t reply; perhaps he’s playing another FPS game or watching Star Trek .

Next, I click on the message from Dad, who actually sent me a voice message.

“Kansas Montgomery, I don’t know what to say anymore.” He never does, but his voice trembles with anger. “Mr. Thompson called earlier and asked me if you were sick again. For once, I lied for you. Where the hell are you? I thought you were staying over at Samantha’s house?”

There’s a second message he sent late in the afternoon: “I asked Clark to ask Chester for this girl’s address.

” He asked Chester’s father for help? “I assume you know what Chester told me. There is no girl named Samantha at your school. Chester is worried about you. He says you’ve been acting strange lately.

And you... supposedly... were involved with several boys the other day.

” I’m almost breathless! “Kansas, that’s.

..” Dad snorts, unable to continue talking for a few seconds.

He takes a few deep breaths and then says, “He wanted me to keep him updated. He blames himself. Is it because of him? Didn’t you and Arizona have enough grief over him?

” My dad pauses again as if he’s waiting for an answer. “Get in touch. Today, that is.”

I press my nails tightly into my hand. The pain is all-encompassing, like red-hot iron on my skin.

How can he believe those lies? I feel sick when I realize what it all means.

Chester has taken precautions. Of course, no one would believe me after that!

With trembling fingers, I clutch my cell phone, which suddenly beeps. I stare at the screen that shows a push notification.

It was hot with you tonight. Should we repeat later? – H.

I stare at my phone in disbelief. It goes bing-bing-bing, and three more messages appear.

Great show. Please, give us more. – B.

You’re quite direct. I never thought you would want that too. – E.

If you say anything, I’ll finish you. Not a word. To anyone.

The last message self-destructs, and I curse the day we were forced into chat groups at school so that now everyone has my number. I tried to block Chester, but he keeps messaging me from other people’s accounts.

It was hot with you... H. Hunter?

Nausea rises in my throat like caustic brew in a test tube.

Even now that I’m gone, the terror doesn’t stop. Why won’t they leave me alone? Of course, they don’t know if I’ll be back tomorrow. Chester probably thinks I’m hiding somewhere or that I’ve sought refuge in counseling and reporting him.

I simply turn the phone off again, though I’m still completely beside myself later as I rinse myself off in the shower.

Maybe they’re distributing fake sex tapes of me, videos where you can’t see the head.

I don’t know. Dad will die of embarrassment, even without the sex tapes.

Everyone will believe I’m the biggest slut in school.

For a moment, I press my hands over my eyes and take a deep breath.

Actually, I don’t care about Dad, Arizona, and James. Let them believe I’m with some guys; they won’t call the police. That would be far too embarrassing for Dad. I’ll just write about a different guy every day.

Basically, it’s the option if I don’t want to be searched for. Still, the thought of it gives me a sour feeling in my throat again. I don’t want them to think that of me.

I get out of the shower, my limbs stiff, and wrap myself in a cheap yellow motel towel.

I stand in the steamy bathroom for a moment.

My mind is empty, but I feel the intense burning in my palm even more strongly.

I look at it almost impassively. It looks like a predator stuck its claw into it.

My lifeline is a mix of scar tissue and exposed flesh.

“Kansas?” I hear River call from outside. “Knock on the door if you understand me.”

It’s unbelievable, but after just a few hours, he understands me better than my family! I tap the wood tentatively with my right hand.

“I’m going out for a moment. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid? If so, knock again.”

He’s probably going to see Mariah. I knock again, even though I wish he would stay.

“I can’t tell if you’re lying!” River replies reproachfully from outside.

Now I have to smile. It was your idea , I think.

“Write down your Big Five. And be honest about them.”

I knock again, meaning I will, and even though it’s unspoken, he understands it.

“See you soon!”

I think of the tiny crane nesting in his hand. For you . Something inside me feels heavy. I can’t imagine what would happen if I had to go back. I think I’d go back to Old Sheriff. There is only escaping with River or jumping—nothing else.