I dig my nails firmly into my palm, but I don’t feel any pain, even though I’m not wearing the Handana. Heart pounding, I watch River read my words.
I can see him paling under his tan, and his eyes begin to glow. “Ches did this?”
He knows what my classmates have done to me; he himself mentioned it earlier. Tormented me. Beaten me.
“Did Ches touch you?” His tone sounds strangely foreign and it gives me chills.
I can’t nod or shake my head.
Involuntarily, I stand, and River jumps to his feet. Only now do I see his clenched hands, his fingers so tense that his knuckles glow white.
“Did he touch you?” he repeats, dangerously quietly. He’s so incredibly angry; I’m glad there’s nothing here for him to break. I never should have told him.
I stare at the ground for a few breaths as new tears well up in my eyes. I can hardly believe it myself. My head just can’t wrap itself around the fact that River is Chester’s brother. And now River sounds so angry, like I could have done something about it. He stands in front of me, every muscle so tense I can feel it against my skin. The air between us crackles like a thunderstorm. I can’t stand it. I just can’t stand this truth between us. I turn and try to run away, but River catches my arm.
“Don’t run away!” he says harshly. “Don’t run away again, damn it! Not from reality, not from your feelings. Not in front of me. Tell me what he did.” It feels like every fiber of his trembling body is demanding the truth. “Tell me!”
Of course, he wants to know. Chester is his brother, and I’m not indifferent to him. I swallow and shake my head desperately. How could I ever tell him?Hey, your brother tortured me physically and mentally, framed me for theft, repeatedly almost drowned me, locked me in a locker, and let others beat me because he wanted me to sleep with him whenever he wanted?
More and more tears flow down my cheeks, dripping onto the ground as if I want to bring the dead land to life.
“Don’t, Tucks.” River lets go of me and opens my clenched fingers—not as gently as usual, but with control. He doesn’t hurtme; he never does. He just can’t help it, having suffered at the hands of his family himself. I only realize that at this moment.
I glance up at the sky, motionless. It is now a deep blue, but over the snow-capped glaciers, veils of pink, peach, and plum flow around the low sun. Now, I would like to fly away over the mountain ridges.
F-L-Y.
“I’m sorry,” River says softly next to me. “I didn’t mean to yell at you like that.” He sounds sincere, but he’s still angry and confused. Without another word, he marches down the hill, so alien to me as if he had just landed on Earth by chance.
Still, he seems more real than he did an hour ago, I think as I collect my flip-flops. Before, he was a lonely figure in an empty painting. He could have been anything.
Ben Adams, Taylor Harden, Asher Blackwell. Now, he’s painted his past into the background, and I wish he hadn’t. I wish I’d never said anything and that everything was as it was before, because a dream thrives on imagination.
It’s funny how knowing one thing suddenly changes everything. We drive on, but I don’t dare hold on to River anymore. Instead, I grab the handles of the luggage rack on both sides, like it’s my fault he’s Chester’s brother.
He, on the other hand, pedals like a madman, as if he wants to escape reality. No more looking over my shoulder to see if I’m okay, nothing. And the longer we ride, the more I fear he’ll just leave me somewhere. This is too much for him. He wants to avoid the whole thing now that it affects him personally. Part of my story is also his. He may be afraid of being found by his family.
I sit tense, and motionless, on the luggage rack, feeling the throbbing in my jaw and my stiff muscles. My eyes water from the wind, and my head pounds so hard my eyeballs sting.
We meet an older man with a hunting rifle and a Jeep during a short break to drink, and he agrees to drive us to the nearest motel. I am so relieved that I almost start crying again.
River remains silent throughout the journey through the great basin of the U.S. It’s strange to see him this quiet; I’ve only seen him like this during the days when he was constantly sleeping.
My head can’t wrap itself around it.Did Ches touch you?Ches— that sounds strange. Too harmless for someone like Chester Davenport. And this from River’s mouth.
As if in a fog, I see sand and stone deserts pass by, sometimes wide valleys, then through dry river landscapes and flat stretches of land with nothing but sagebrush. Hopefully, he won’t leave me at the next motel.Please, please, make him take me further!
Maybe River doesn’t say anything because he’s somehow angry with me because I’ve put up with everything. Because I still don’t speak. No idea.
Carl Smith lets us off at a motel in Jackpot, and River naturally books a room. I cry again and half turn to the side so the receptionist won’t see me.
“Hey.” River’s gaze rests on me after he puts the pen down. And this “Hey” meansWhat’s going on now?OrDo you want to tell me something?
I thought you would leave me here, I write shakily.
He shakes his head, almost disapprovingly. “Why wouldIleaveyou? Logic dictates it would be the other way around.”
In the room, I immediately connect my cell phone to the new charging cable, and a completely different kind of fear takeshold of me. I have no idea how long it’s been since Dad last heard from me, but it has to be more than seven days. I don’t know if I even want to read his messages. Or James’s. My own family seems impossibly far away. I try to imagine them: Arizona theatrically dropping cucumbers into the blender, James readingPsychology Today, and Dad sitting stiffly and seriously in the kitchen. They’re like strangers, and the feeling grows stronger the longer I travel with River. What else do I know about Arizona? What do I know about Dad and James? Arizona is beautiful and popular, James analyzes and fixes everything, and Dad never laughed and mourned Mom. That’s it. I don’t want to go back to them. River is my family now.
