River nods laboriously. When we enter the room, he immediately collapses onto the creaking double bed and falls asleep.
I glance around uncomfortably. The room is larger than the one in the Badlands, but it’s dirty and rundown. There’s a thick layer of dust on the table, the small, orangey carpet on the tiled floor is worn and covered in countless stains, and there’s a fissure in the windowpane. The glass isn’t shattered, but it doesn’t look like it would survive a tornado.
Not knowing what to do, I sit on the other side of the bed. Tired, I push my sweaty hair out of my face. River surely just needs to catch up on the sleep he’s been missing.
I sit and stare into space for a while before I take off the Handana and inspect my hand. The wounds still look bad fromthe exercises on the slackline, but not quite as bad as back at Kensington. I shake my head. My old school seems light years away.
I peel off my clothes and go into the bathroom, leaving the moldy shower curtain open simply because Norman Bates and the knife are on my mind. I smell terrible, like sweat and wilderness.
I slowly turn the rusty tap and wait until the icy, copper-colored water is clear and at the right temperature, then I stand right under the thin stream. The warmth tingles on my scalp.
I squeeze the last bit of shower gel out of the dispenser with both hands and lather myself from head to toe. I used to hate showering, but now it feels wonderful. At first, I thought it was just because I hadn’t been able to wash myself with soap for a while, but it’s something else. The bruises on my body hurt less.
I wrap myself in a scratchy towel and search the backpack for clothes. I find a huge black sweater of River’s and a pair of jeans that are way too big. I slip them on, use a scarf as a belt so the waist doesn’t slide down with every step, and roll the hem up a few times.
Exhausted from wandering through the forest, I lie down on the bed next to River and stare up. Moonlight shines through the cracked window, painting a circle on the ceiling. Did Dad call the police because I haven’t reported in for two days in a row? What would the police do if it was clear that I ran away? Plus, I’m seventeen, not eight. I have no idea what they’d do in such a case, but it’s certainly different than when a child disappears overnight. They certainly wouldn’t be searching for me here in Woods Crossing. This is a cow town, and the motel owner didn’t seem like someone who would care about his guests’ needs as long as he could drink in peace. No, I’m safe here.
Sunlight awakens me. I blink tiredly and immediately notice that River is still asleep.
Now, this is truly strange. He said he never, or only rarely, sleeps. I sit up and lick my dry lips. I have a bad taste in my mouth and urgently need to brush my teeth. Maybe River has a toothbrush somewhere in his backpack.
Clumsily, I rummage around but can’t find anything. Just a crinkly package he usually keeps in his pocket. Should I check what it is?
“Don’t worry. That’s not a head that I secretly pulverized and bagged,” River growls, turning back to the other side.
So, he is awake, after all.
I think for a moment. If it’s drugs, I should know so I can better assess River. I take a deep breath and pull out the crackling thing.
“Direct hit,” River murmurs dully.
I want to laugh, but I can’t. I stare at the square package in shock. It’s a condom.
“I like having sex. I just want to be prepared.”
Oh yes, I’m sure women and girls are at his feet in droves, but it still stabs at my heartstrings. I don’t want him going to bed with other girls. I self-consciously stuff the condom back, remembering what my family thinks of me.You go to bed with these guys for the attention. Or however James put it.
I fish my cell phone out of my backpack. Even if I could charge it, it might not work because it was in the soaked backpack. River’s cell phone, however, may have survived the short dip. The two days we waited before turning it on are over, so I hook it up to its charging cable because the battery is probably dead too.
While I wait for it to start blinking, I write a list of things we need.
Charging cable for my cell phone
Something to eat—fruit and sandwiches
Drinks (tap water is also possible if necessary)
Laundry detergent
Jack Daniel’s and cigarettes for River?
Toothbrushes and toothpaste
I realize that if River continues to sleep, I’ll have to get these things myself.
The sun climbs higher and heats up the room, so I open the cracked window and pray it doesn’t shatter into a thousand pieces. Then I sit next to River on the bed and tug on his sleeve.
He doesn’t react. He’s sleeping so deeply again, as if he were in a coma.
