I have no new messages, including from Mr. Spock. Strange. Just a few old ones that I haven’t looked at yet.
I mechanically switch flight mode back on and slide the phone into my pocket. I see my mom through the wide glass front of Tivoli Hall. She’s seen me too and keeps staring at me in alarm as if she’s afraid I’ll go to her and reveal I’m her daughter. I unconsciously shake my head. Dad was right. We mean nothing to her anymore. I always thought he was lying to hurt me or to unload his anger somewhere.
Maybe I wronged him. All these years, I blamed not only myself but also him for her leaving. Because he was so serious, so unapproachable, so cold. Maybe he only became that way because he was so unhappy. Maybe he asked himself why and never found an answer.
Without turning again, I follow the ebbing stream of people. I don’t see River anywhere. He’s probably out there somewhere, dressed as a fan, so well disguised that even I wouldn’t recognize him.
I walk along the Strip with a feeling of unreality and detachment. Women in high heels stagger past me, and three scantily clad dancers with feather headdresses dance in front of a hotel entrance and take photos with tourists. The name Asher Blackwell floats around the streets. Sometimes, I hear it like a raven flying by before it disappears for minutes, only to reappear at another corner.
Did all of this really happen today?
Am I dreaming?
At some point, I realize I missed the side street and am lost. I go back, but I can’t find the street I need and wander around aimlessly. I check my cell phone several times, but no one texts me. Not Dad, not Mr. Spock, not River. River probably hasn’t taken his cell phone out of the flowerpot yet for fear of being recognized.
I feel more alone than ever before. I mindlessly turn off airplane mode and enter the name of the hotel into the Google Maps search. However, when the route fails to load, I remember that I turned off the GPS. I click Settings but decide to leave GPS off. Nobody should be able to find me now.
Flight mode on.
It probably takes two hours before I finally find our shabby hotel. Time enough for River to have returned, but for some reason, I know he’s not here. I don’t know why, but maybe he’ll never come back. Yet as soon as I think that, I know it’s not true.
You haven’t said I love you yet.
He won’t give up.
For June’s sake—or for whatever reason—he won’t give up.
As I push open the door to the lobby, completely exhausted, the sight of my dad catches me completely off guard.
I stand rooted in place.
Chapter 26
His dark eyes are red, his skin pale and stiff like plaster so that his wrinkles look like cracks. He is wearing his checked Boss sweater, the one he wore the morning after Mom disappeared.
“Kansas!” he chokes out as he approaches. I don’t move but allow him to wrap his giant arms around me and hug me—briefly and quickly, as if required by a secret father-daughter protocol, which he consulted to know what to do in cases like mine. He has never truly hugged me for long, except that one time in our laundry room, and he doesn’t do it today, either.
How did he even know where I was? How did he get here? I blink several times, confused.
“Kid, are you okay?” he ask, frowning as he looks me up and down.
I’m sure I look like a mangy dog, wet and worn out, and the bruise from Jack’s punch is still visible on my face, even though it’s fading. But despite all that, Dad doesn’t look angry. Why isn’t he yelling at me? Maybe it’s his stunned, deeply confused expression, but my heart is suddenly full of words.
Dad!I want to tell him so many things!I saw Mom! And I fell in love! I was so happy! Dad, listen to me! Just this once, please!
However, it’s so hard when you stutter, barely getting a word out.
I try to choke out “Dad,”at least once, to show him that I can do it now and that something good came out of my running away when I spot James and Arizona at the back of the lobby. As usual, James is wearing his dark stoner clothes, and Arizona looks even crazier. She’s leaning casually against the wall, wearing knee-high boots that should come with a license to kill, a skin-tight leopard skirt, and a tank top under which her black lace bra flashes through the mesh fabric. When our eyes meet, she blows a gigantic bubble of gum, which bursts with a loud bang.
She doesn’t say anything, just looks at me. I can no longer interpret the expression in her eyes. I’ve completely forgotten how to read her. Is that jealousy? Does she know about me and Asher Blackwell?
I open my mouth to say hi. I want to say something—anything—but my throat feels constricted.
How did you know where I was?I type into my phone and hold it out to Dad. “James.” He nods his chin in my brother’s direction. “James knew.”
“I’m sorry, Kans.” My brother runs his hand through his wild black curls, almost embarrassed.
“We have so much to talk about,” Dad says, but I’m not paying attention to him.
