Page 29 of River Wild

“Why did you shoot him? I don’t understand. River, why would you do that? Answer me!”

She moves toward me in a quick movement, grabbing for my arm, and I stumble back.

“Don’t touch me!” I cry.

She freezes. She’s staring at me. Then, her expression crumbles. “Oh no. Oh God, no. River … did he … did he hurt you?”

“I c-can’t. M-Mama said …”

“Oh God, River. I’m so sorry. But it’s going to be okay now.”

No, it’s not. It’s never going to be okay again.

“What did your mama tell you to do?”

I swallow. “To not tell anyone what really happened that day.” To not tell anyone what he did to me.

“People won’t understand, River. They’ll treat you differently.”

“And you haven’t told anyone other than me?”

I shake my head.

“Okay. You don’t speak this to another soul, you understand? You keep that promise to your mama. If you need to talk to someone, you talk to me.”

I nod my head.

She reaches out to touch me but stops and holds her hands together in front of her. “No one’s ever going to hurt you again, River. I swear to you.”

I nod my head again.

“Do you have homework to do?” she suddenly asks me.

“No,” I tell her.

“Good. We are going to carry on like everything is normal because, sometimes, that’s the only way to get through things. And normality would mean punishment for getting into a fight at school.”

“So, am I grounded?” Not that it would matter. It’s not like I go anywhere, except to school.

She gives me a look, like she’s just read the words in my mind.

“No, your punishment is to help me out in my workshop.”

“Making that glass crap?”

My grandma does glassblowing. She has a workshop out back. She makes vases and shit and sells it to people.

She gives me a disapproving look. “Don’t use that word. And it’s not crap. It’s art. And you, River, have way too much anger inside you. You need to learn how to handle that anger of yours, channel it, and the best way to do that is to work with something that’s easily breakable.”