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 getall 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.
