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 nothingmore than an act of cowardice—what James used to call Mom’s running away when he got older.
Chapter 5
Late in the afternoon, I send a WhatsApp message to James while we’re on the road. I claim I’m sleeping over at Samantha’s, even though there’s no one named Samantha at my school. Dad might not even notice I’m gone, as he rarely checks on me.
I close my eyes and feel the sun’s rays on my cheeks, but I’m too tense to enjoy the warmth. River doesn’t expect small talk now, but at some point, he’ll realize I never talk—truly—never and then he’ll just leave me stranded somewhere.
As we drive through a small town called Pierre, he digs a beer and a Fanta out of the glove compartment at a red light, along with two sandwiches. He places the Fanta and a sandwich on my lap, and I clench my hands around the newspaper I’m still holding. Since getting in the car, I’ve barely moved a millimeter. I’m just breathing, nothing more. I lick my lips nervously. My mouth is as dry as the Sahara, but I can’t eat or drink in front of River. I only do that in front of my family.
Okay, twice in front of Brent, Todd, and Noah, who held me down and put black and red bugs in my mouth. They grabbed me by the back of my neck and used brute force to make me swallow.Only a few ninth graders stood around and laughed or turned away in disgust.
I try to push the images away and tell myself that it’s over forever, even if it’s not true. I’m not so naive as to believe I can run away permanently. But I can escape for tomorrow, the day after, or maybe three or four more weeks.
I glance at River and he smiles when he notices, so I quickly look at my hands. It’s best to wait until River is asleep before eating or drinking.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him sipping his beer. “Don’t worry, Kentucky, it’s just to wind down.”
I wonder if he’s high and needs to come down, but even if he is, I don’t care. I don’t care because he’s the first person to treat me well.
At dusk, it gets cooler, so I pull the sleeping bag up to my chest and slip out of my flip-flops. I’m still clutching the newspaper, not yet wanting to look at the picture.
To distract myself from my thirst, I look out at the vast terrain of the Great Plains. Fields and meadows containing cattle by the thousands pass by in the twilight. Like deep blue watercolor paint, the twilight thickens into night; it seems as if the land is being soaked with it. It’s so endless. My room has protective walls, but here, there are none. No boundaries.
Suddenly, River brakes hard on the gravelly shoulder. The semi-darkness hovers over us, and suddenly, my heart is pounding in my chest. What if he is dangerous after all? What if he just wanted to lure me away to lock me up somewhere and hold me prisoner?
