Page 26 of A Summer to Save Us

“Of course, they’re not there! They’re not stupid!”

“Of course not,” River confirms in a whisper, pushing his sunglasses up over his forehead. He’s crazy! He doesn’t seem afraid at all.

I make myself even smaller. The situation reminds me so much of school that I can hardly breathe.

“Hey.” River points his index and middle fingers at his eyes and gives me a mesmerizing look. Just look at me , I deduce from that look as we squat opposite each other.

I clench my fist, but the only thing that happens is that I squeeze the orange wedge, and the juice soaks into the Handana.

“I’ll let security know; you keep looking toward the exit.” Footsteps move away. They’ll probably line the entrance with security guards or let the other guards loose on us like bloodhounds.

River just grins. Through the blue-silver lens of my sunglasses, his eyes shine like sapphires. His suntanned face is dark, the whites of his eyes bright. My chest is still constricted as if I were wearing a corset.

Suddenly, my cell phone beeps. Damn!

I hold my breath. At first, nothing happens, but then the steps come back in our direction.

Please, don’t let my time with River be over yet! I plead silently. The suited man’s trousers flash again between two packages.

I feel a drop of sweat running down my forehead.

With trembling fingers, I pull my phone out of my back pocket and switch it to silent.

The man is standing right in front of our hiding place, probably wondering where the beep came from.

Still looking at me mesmerizingly, River wraps his hands around my fingers and cell phone like he’s holding the paper crane.

His hands are warm and strong, but I can’t stop shaking.

I don’t know how much time passes. When something beeps again, this time, it’s not my phone.

“Turn that thing off already!” an unfriendly male voice whispers from another aisle.

Hallelujah! I want to sing with relief.

I cautiously inhale because I still feel like I’m about to suffocate. The man growls something under his breath before his footsteps move away again.

“Lesson two; always mute your phone if you want to be invisible,” River whispers. “Lesson three; go back to the scene and toast your success.” He pushes the package aside and peers into the aisle. Apparently, the coast is clear because he climbs out and motions for me to follow.

Clumsily, I crawl out from between the buckets and cleaning supplies, and River takes my hand as soon as I stand. It feels weird because we have salt on our fingers mixed with sweat.

At the end of the aisle, River glances around the corner before pulling me along.

Two young women in summer dresses come toward us.

The blonde looks at me disparagingly, and the brunette stares at River like he’s a movie star, but he doesn’t pay her any attention.

If I weren’t so agitated, I would be happy about it.

So, I let myself be pulled along, and River turns again into one of the intersecting aisles.

He runs his two fingers over the armada of colorful bottles of spirits, ticking them with his nails.

Tick-tick-tick. Like the second hand of our time running out.

At some point, he stops abruptly and, after thinking for a moment, reaches for a dark green bottle with an elegant label.

“Let’s go back,” he says urgently, so we take the same route out of the liquor aisle toward our salt faces.

“Champagne?” River lets go of me for a moment, uncorks the bottle, takes a big gulp, and passes it to me. I have no idea where I left the ice cream, but now I’m holding the dripping orange wedge and champagne in my hand.

“We don’t have much time. The manager will probably show up soon to look at the mess. Luckily, the store is huge.”

River sprinkles pepper on his salt smiley face to make it look like it’s sticking out its tongue, and I can’t help but giggle—silently, of course.

Suddenly, a wonderful tingling sensation washes over me, a mix of fear, agitation, and fun. It’s like the shaking after my fall, but this time, there is no sorrow. It’s a rush of adrenaline and happiness.

You can be someone else . And for a reason I can’t explain, I’m suddenly no longer afraid of getting caught.

River knows what he’s doing. Besides, he also knows what he can risk!

On impulse, I put the tip of the bottle to my lips and sip from the bottle.

The champagne tingles like fizz on my tongue, like butterflies in my stomach.

It’s so wonderful that I down several sips.

“Tucks, I can’t believe this!” River stands in front of me, staring with his hands on his hips. “Are you seriously drinking in public? You’re lucky that’s allowed in Wyoming, damn it! Although, you do realize that’s alcohol… and you’re not twenty-one.”

I look from him to the bottle in my hand and back again, stunned.

Oh God, he’s right! Not about my age or the alcohol, but that I drank at all!

There’s laughter that desperately wants to come out right now.

I feel the waves pulsing inside me, but the fear of letting it out is like a wall blocking it.

Everything would change, and there would be no going back.

I would no longer be separated from the world, which could possibly crush and destroy me.

I drink more, as if I want to drown the loud laughter.

River watches me, but suddenly, his gaze glides over my shoulder.

“Holy shit!” he curses and puts his sunglasses back on. I turn and see two security guards and the men in cowboy boots at the other end of the aisle.

“There they are!” someone shouts, amazed, and the next second, they rush toward us.

River grabs my arm, and we run in the opposite direction. Maybe we have a significant lead, but there are four of them. My newfound fun turns into a mixture of high tension and panic.

“Let’s split up. You two go that way; we’ll go this way.”

We reach the end of the supermarket and stop. There’s a deli counter as long as two trucks. Behind it are the refrigerators with gallons of milk, and in front of them is the pyramid of watermelons.

“Stop!” growls one of the men behind us. River snatches the champagne bottle out of my hand and gives me a shove. “Run to the other side!”

As I reach the melons, I notice two employees in the middle aisle. They charge head-on, and two others appear on the other side of the market.

“Game’s over!” a man from the staff shouts, a big bear with a baton on his weapon’s belt. His red-haired colleague who approaches me reminds me of Chester.

For a moment, I freeze. The familiar feeling of helplessness catapults me straight back to my high school. The moment when I give up and just wait for it to be over. I can’t do anything anymore. They’ve surrounded us, we’re trapped. I glance frantically from side to side.

“The boy first!” someone shouts behind River. “Take it easy, my friend, and nothing will happen to you.” One of them stretches out his arm to grab him.

I get hot and cold. These men will call my dad.

I may never see River again! He might actually jump off the Lost Arrow Spire at the end of the summer, and I wouldn’t be able to stop him.

Suddenly, the thought is unbearable. For a split second, I imagine him falling into the depths, past sharp rocks, his arms outstretched like wings, his blond hair windswept, and a smile on his face.

With trembling hands, I reach for one of the lower watermelons.

“Don’t do anything stupid, girl!” the security guard with the baton on his belt shouts.

My heart is pounding, but I see no other option.

“Let…” With a hard tug, I pull the melon out of the perfectly constructed work of art and instinctively throw my arms over my head.

Projectiles like heavy medicine balls thunder down on me, and I’m pushed around by the weights like I’m hitting school lockers.

People yell as the tower of watermelons slides like an avalanche through the supermarket. Some of them burst on impact, making cracking, smacking noises like gigantic dinosaur eggs breaking.

When the watermelons stop attacking me, I check on River, but I lose my balance and tumble into the pulpy chaos and rolling fruit. Someone resolutely grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet.

River!

“Hurry!” I look around for the shouting men, who are somewhere in the melon chaos.

One of them is fighting his way through a few onlookers, while another is lying on the ground.

A crowd has also formed in the middle aisle, which is exactly where River is heading.

“Lesson number four; mix with other people,” he gasps breathlessly in my ear.

He raises his hand and divides the crowd like Moses parted the sea.

It’s incredible how everyone always does exactly what he wants.

He must also impart a certain fascination for others and not only because of his appearance.

The mob swallows us in its midst. We are like Jonah in the belly of the whale.

River gently pushes me forward. “Did you see that?” he calls out to the people.

“Those kids these days!” An older man wearing sandals and tennis socks merely shakes his head, unsure we’re responsible for the commotion.

The man with the dreadlocks, who was staring at me in the beginning, stands out from the crowd, and our eyes meet for a second.

I don’t know why—maybe because I’m feeling wound up, panicked, and cocky—but I smile at him. Bemused, he blinks but then grins.

I don’t know the last time I did that, if you don’t count River. I was probably five years old!

Without noticing, River has pulled me into the clothing department. “That was great, Tucks.”

I blush, and, at first, I think he means the smile. My heart is still pounding in my throat, and I feel dizzy, which could also be from the champagne.

River puts a hat on my head and grabs a cap for himself.

“Take off your sunglasses!” he says, quickly stashing his in the changing stall next to us.

I do the same. Somewhere behind us, I hear the men yelling.

They’ve probably fanned out again. Employees scatter in all directions, and announcements blare incessantly from the loudspeakers.

“Don’t run. Keep a low profile,” River softly advises as I glance around frantically. “We’re just customers. We’ll buy this hat and the cap, nothing more.” Holding my hand, he saunters to the checkout counter slowly.

He puts the goods on the conveyor belt and whistles “Yellow Submarine” by the Beatles to himself.

My gaze falls on the current newspapers, and for a brief moment, I fear I’ll see my own mugshot in the tabloids. However, that’s not the case. Apparently, the press is in a summer slump because it’s regurgitating the same topics.

Ben Adams still at large. Using almost magical tricks, he escaped from the officers.

Key witness Taylor Harden: That’s why he didn’t want to go into the witness protection program.

Artist Meredith Fox speaks with Samuel from Demons ’N Saints. Who will replace the successful band in Las Vegas?

Nervously, I look around for the security guards but don’t see them. I quickly grab the top newspaper and place it on the belt. The determined-looking cashier scans the prices and then points to River’s cheek. “You’ve got something on your face, sir,” she says with a frown.

Watermelon splatter .

I want to dig a hole into the ground, but River calmly brushes it away and says, “She proposed to me today, and I said yes.” He places the dark hat on my head as if it were the ring he’ll soon put on my finger.

The woman looks at me intently, and I pull the hat low over my face. “Well then. Congratulations, darling,” she grumbles gruffly. “And tell your boyfriend to wash his face before he leaves the house next time.”

I nod stiffly, praying she doesn’t ask me anything.

River puts the cap on his head and pulls it low over his forehead. Now, he looks like a rebel—or a criminal. “In Wyoming, you can’t shower on Wednesday.”

For the first time, something like amusement appears on her face. “That’s nonsense! And that only applies in Cheyenne!”

River smiles his one-million-dollar smile. “I’m a damn lucky guy, aren’t I?” He takes my hand resolutely, and we stroll toward the exit when we hear someone yelling, “Over there!”

I turn my head. Five men are rushing after us, two of them in uniform.

River and I start running at the same time, but my wedge heels suddenly feel like concrete blocks on my feet on the dilapidated asphalt.

“I’ll get the car.” River lets go of my fingers and sprints toward the Porsche. I glance over my shoulder.

The men have almost caught up with me. The young redhead who reminds me of Chester leads the group, a grin plastered on his face like molasses. Automatically, I stop.

“Did your knight in shining armor leave you?” he asks with biting mockery, and the others behind him laugh. He’s not thirty feet away. “They’re all like that. Be grateful we caught you. Who knows what other trouble he would have gotten you into.”

In a blind panic, I continue moving, clumsily and far too slowly.

“Come on, little one. Stay put,” I hear another milder-sounding male voice call out. “We won’t hurt you.”

River revs the Porsche’s engine.

“Look, he’s leaving. Didn’t I tell you he’d do that?” the red-haired man laughs, and another joins in loudly.

My heart skips a beat. What if River does leave me behind?

However, as soon as I think it, the Porsche’s tires squeal. The engine roars again, and the car races toward us at full speed. One of the men shouts something. I jump to the side, and a few seconds later, River brakes sharply next to me.

Without opening the door, I jump into the Porsche, and River peels out. Shaking, I cling to the door handle.

As we turn onto the highway, River throws the cap away and gives me a sideways glance.

It’s serious but so urgent that a sparkling hot-cold feeling spreads across my skin like a dark blue silk scarf.

For a moment, I’m transfixed. My mouth goes completely dry, but I can’t look away either.

It’s holding me. This look. It's so many things.

It conveys so much, tinged with confusion and a hint of anger.

I swallow. Why should he be angry with me? Or am I merely imagining it?