It makes me run faster. One thing that sucks about this is that I can’t run from my thoughts. Thoughts stay with you. They pop up, unwanted, and run laps around you.
When I get to the barn, I hang back a little bit. The grass grows tall up here. It’s dry and tangled. I walk around the perimeter a bit and notice a worn trail.
Then the door flies open, and I throw myself into the grass. It pricks my skin, but I don’t know if I’m supposed to be up here.
I hear a male voice talking on the phone, but a wind blows and cuts out his words.
“I’ve got it, all right? Last night was a great turnout, promise. It’s at the pick up. Nope… Yep… I told you, you don’t have to worry.”
The voice sounds familiar. Male. Young. Perhaps one of the guys from group. I don’t dare stand up and finish my run. I’ll stay put until I’ve made sure he’s gone.
“I need to get back.” That’s the end of the call. I hear the rumble of an engine starting up, and wheels on gravel. Dust billows high into the air as he drives away.
Now I know where everyone was sneaking off to last night. I sit up and pull the hay out of my hair. I finish my run (though by now it’s mostly walking) back to HCRC. And for the first time since I got here, I wish I had someone to talk to.
• • •
“How was your run today?” Ransom asks me.
“Painful.” I lean my head back in the chair. My muscles ache fiercely. “You know, I’m not really the outdoors type.”
He laughs in that high-pitched way of his, surprising for someone so big. “This isn’t a spa.”
“There’s still time,” I say.
“Tell me. What did you think about while you were out there?”
“I don’t know.”
He stares at me for a bit. “I always replay the old days when I run. What about you?”
I look at my lap. I decide to tell him about running from the bookie.
“I can’t lie. I’ve been in similar situations. Though, I’d never bet on the Mets.”
For the first time during our sessions, I really laugh.
“When did your father pass?”
The question throws me off. I knew talking about my dad would come up eventually. I’m surprised Steven’s waited so long. I’m a walking case study of the Electra complex. At least that’s what Sky told me once. At first I thought she was talking about the shitty movie.
“A little over a year ago,” I tell him.
“Is that when you first decided to change your life?”
“That’s a funny way of putting it. Change your life.”
“What would you call it?”
I shrug one shoulder. “I still worked at a bar. I just decided to drink a little less. I stopped going to games.” I grab the book on the table beside me and thumb through the pages. The pages are thicker than a normal book’s, so it almost sounds like a deck of cards. The sound soothes me.
“I’d say that’s a change.”
“Okay.” I don’t want to talk about my dad anymore. “Hey, what’s that barn down the road?”
Ransom looks confused. “You must’ve run quite a bit.”
“You can tell that to my leg muscles tomorrow.”
“There are a few abandoned barns around here. I remember the first time I came out here. I didn’t know the difference between a farmer and a rancher.”
“Do you miss the city?”
“Sometimes,” he says. “Do you?”
He’s good at bringing the conversation back to me.
“I miss the noise. I miss real people.”
“What makes you think the people here aren’t real?”
I hold my arm out and point at the door. “Come on. You see them. They act like there’s nothing wrong with them. Fucking Pete’s back here because he’s afraid of the world. It’s like they’re hiding.”
He’s silent, and I’m afraid I’ve offended him. “Do you think you’re a real person?”
“I’m not lying to myself by thinking I’m okay. Sometimes I don’t think I belong here. I know I’ve fucked up, but it can’t be as bad as these people. I’ve never put someone in the hospital or abandoned my kids.”
“What have you done?”
I shut my eyes and try to push away the thoughts that run through my mind. Who have I hurt? I hurt Pepe and Tony by bringing my mess to their wedding. I hurt Sky when I get so messed up that she has to take care of me. I hurt myself. I hurt myself most of all. And maybe I’m okay with that. Maybe that’s who I am.
“I don’t know,” I tell him. I flip the pages of the book over and over again until Ransom stares at my hands.
“I want you to try something today.”
“You’re not going to make me run laps again, are you?”
He smiles softly. “I want you to have dinner in the main hall.”
“You want me to make friends.”
“Not necessarily. Being friends with people involves trust. Trust is hard to come by. I want you to open yourself up to the possibility of getting to know the people here. I think you might be surprised.”
I don’t tell him that I don’t like surprises.
Chapter 10
The dining hall is bustling. It has the feel of a small-town diner and smells like burning oil and french fries. It’s burger night and Lunchman Larry grills, while one of the patients mans the fixing stations.
I load up my burger with lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, onions, guacamole, and ketchup. I smile at Larry, and he gives me extra fries.
I feel nervous again. Sure, I like to think I have thick skin and a general New-York-don’t-care attitude, but as I stand in the middle of the room, I get that terrible feeling of not belonging. I kept telling myself that I didn’t want to make friends with these people. But for the first time I wonder if they feel the same way about me.
Pete and his table seem inviting, but I think I’m too dark for them. I don’t see Maddie anywhere, which is weird because she’s always here.
The counselors are spread all over. They don’t separate themselves, but eat with the patients. The longer I stand here without somewhere to go, the more my hands start to tremble.
Get a grip, River Thomas.
“Hey, New York,” Vilma, the Hispanic girl from Hutch’s group, shouts at me. “Come here. Sit.”
I’m so relieved that I practically sprint to sit beside her.
Then I realize Hutch is at the table, and I knock over my drink.
“I’m so sorry,” I shriek.
“It’s okay,” Hutch says, grabbing a bunch of napkins to mop up the water.
Some of the girls giggle behind their hands.
“So,” the dark-haired girl with the runny nose I met on my first day says, “you finally decided to come down from your lair.”
“Yeah, we have a bet going,” Fran says. “Julie thinks you’re a vampire. I said you were maybe a cutter, but now that I look at you, you haven’t got a scratch on you except that scar on your thigh. What’s that from anyway?”
“Guys,” Hutch says warningly. “Ease up, she hasn’t even touched her food yet.”
Vilma slams her hand on the table, and gives a telling look at Hutch and me. “Fran, what did I tell you not to say?”
Fran smacks her hand on her head. Then covers her mouth. “Sorry. Gambler. I’m sorry. We were just kidding.”
I grab my burger with both hands. “I went for a run today. In the daylight. So your vampire theory is out. You’re shitty at reading people.”
Hutch cocks his eyebrow in my direction. Is he just going to sit there, or is he going to tell them to stop? Is he “off duty” all of a sudden?
Vilma flicks a fry at Fran.
“Vampires can go out in the daytime,” Julie says. “They sparkle.”
“I’m a vampire purist,” I say, biting more of my burger than is polite. But if I have something to occupy my mouth, I’ll have more time to think before I speak. I can’t help but look at Hutch and think of something better to d
o with my mouth. I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing, because suddenly he looks away from me.
“What about the scar?” Fran asks.
I look around the dining hall and try to catch Ransom just to give him a side-eye. My hand instinctually goes to my thigh where my pearly white scar is. I try to block the memory of it by replacing it with something better—Hutch’s naked body walking away from me. Damn, he said. Damn yourself, I said. I think I damned us both.
“River, you don’t have to answer that. Fran, what did we talk about this morning?”
“I’m just curious,” she says. “Besides, she might just hide in her room all over again, and we’ll never get the chance to know.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “And the scar is from going through a window. Broken glass.”
Fran widens her eyes. She’s waiting for me to tell her the circumstances, but I smirk and keep eating.
“Is that all?” I ask them. “I have to say, I’m a little disappointed.”
“For now,” Vilma says. “Maybe you can help us figure something out.”
“All right, enough,” Hutch says, pointing a fry all around the table. Now it’s his turn to be clumsy. He almost knocks his water over, but his reflexes are better than mine.
The girls hoot and holler.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“We’re trying to figure out what Hutch’s girlfriend looks like.”
My daddy liked to tell his friends, “You don’t want to go up against my baby girl. She’s got the meanest poker face in all the city.” I think he’d be really disappointed right now as I choke on a fry.
“I still have to learn to chew my food,” I say self-deprecatingly.
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Hutch says quietly. I don’t know if it’s for my benefit or to quell the rumor mill. “And I’m starting to feel pretty uncomfortable with this conversation.”
“Come on, Hutch,” Fran says. “It’s just a game. It’s not like you guys have bought any new gossip magazines in over a year.”
Vilma turns to me to fill me in. “We think he’s totally full of shit. He’s been in lala land for a week now. Usually he’s all quiet and cool, but lately there’s something off.”
“Yeah, I catch him grinning to himself when he thinks no one is looking.”
Hutch shuts his eyes. “Okay, enough. Helen’s going to kill me.”
“No way, you’re her favorite,” Vilma says. “It’s River’s turn to guess. I say he’s into Latin girls. You’re part Spanish right?”
“That’s another bet we’ve got going on,” Fran says, then clamps her fist over her mouth. “Sorry.”
“I say he’s into blondes,” Julie says. “But the Playboy Bunny type, sorry River.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re all wrong.”
“Okay,” Hutch says, holding his hands up. “You’re all going to get me fired. No bets. Especially you.”
“Chill. I’m not taking a bet. I’m just going to state a fact. I see you with a pretty brunette. Someone small, but athletic. Someone sweet and polite. Someone nice. Someone you can trust. She probably rides horses and knows the difference between a dinner fork and a salad fork. Really put together.”
I lean back in my chair and hold his stare. I can feel the other girls watching us. I can feel their giddy energy as they wait for one of us to blink. Suddenly, I feel like I’m back at a table again, confident that I have an excellent hand. Does he see what I’m doing? I want him to say yes. I want him to say that I’ve figured out his type so that no one will ever think he could be with a girl like me.
Hutch blinks. He smiles that heartbreaking smile of his and throws up his hands. “You got me.”
The girls cheer and holler, patting me on the back. This time, Ransom looks over his shoulder and gives me a thumbs-up. I want to flip him the bird, but Hutch is getting up.
“I think I’ve had enough torture for the day.” He glances my way, then busses his tray and heads outside.
“That ass is dangerous,” Fran says, now that he’s gone.
“Do you think it might be a patient?” Julie whispers.
My heart gives a guilty little thump.
Vilma shakes her head. “Doubtful. He’s a total teetotaler. Remember when he got that last counselor arrested for smuggling in drugs?”
“Wait, what?” I ask. Also, considering I met Hutch at a bar, he is most definitely not straight-edge.
“About two months ago,” Fran says, like she’s reciting a story from People magazine, “there was a girl who overdosed. Hutch found drugs in the counselor’s office.”
“Really?” I ask. “That’s something they neglected to put in the pamphlet.”
“Do you really think he’s into brunettes?” Julie asks hopefully.
“Maybe.” I smile. “I was just guessing.”
“That man can have anyone in the world,” Vilma tells her. “What would be want with an addict like you?”
Julie frowns, and eats her food.
Vilma is right. What would Hutch want with an addict? Still, hearing that he’s had a smile on his face for a week, I get a funny feeling in my stomach. Because it was me. I put that smile there. And that’s a bet I’d put money on.
Chapter 11
So maybe Ransom was right. Vilma, Fran, and Julie are okay. Fran is a terrible gossip, Julie is a bit depressing, and Vilma is painfully honest. But they’re still real. They’re unflinching about their addictions, and a part of me feels terrible for assuming they were in denial about themselves.
Maybe the one who’s in denial is me.
They convince me to stay for the bonfire after dinner. A few yards behind the facility is a giant circle of stacked stones. Logs create a circle of benches around a roaring fire pit. The flames are the same color as the sunset. I inhale the smoky air, the smell of cedar. The air is so clean it hurts as it expands in my lungs.
“I’ve never made s’mores,” I confess, taking a branch from the assembly table.
“What?” Helen says. She holds a branch with five smaller branches. It looks like a hand, and the marshmallows at the ends look like fat white finger stubs.
I shrug. “I’ve never been camping. I grew up in a city where the biggest park is manmade and the trees are transported from other places.”
“Still,” Stevens says. “I’m from Detroit and even I’ve been camping.”
“I’m doing it now, aren’t I?” I sass him.
“This isn’t camping,” Helen assures me. “We’re doing a camping trip at the end of the month. You should sign up.”
I make a face, and they laugh at me. I find a spot around the fire, and am just starting to toast my marshmallows when I notice Maddie coming down from her room. There’s something different about the way she walks. She’s trying to keep herself steady, and even though she’s doing a hell of a job, I notice the difference. She slinks her way around the fire and settles onto a log bench. She huddles under her oversized hoodie and shivers. It isn’t exactly cold.
“Maddie!” Fran shouts from the other side of the fire. “Missed you at dinner. Here, I saved you some marshmallows. What’s wrong?”
“My stomach hurts. I think it was the bacon this morning.” Maddie manages a weak smile. One look at her and I know she’s high. But how could she be high?
“Yeah,” Fran says. “I felt gross too. I think Lunchman Larry is trying to poison us.”
I think back to what the girls said about Hutch finding the drugs with the counselor. She sneaked out two nights ago, but she’s been fine since then. Maybe I wasn’t looking…
I look at the counselors, and I wonder if I should tell someone. Sky would tell me, Yes! Say something!
But I’ve still got months here, and my self-preservation tells me that I can’t be the girl who snitches. Maddie leans her head against Fran’s shoulder and giggles as she eats her marshmallow. Maybe she really does have food poisoning. Maybe I just want to find something wrong because everything’s too perfect.
>
“How’s your first s’more?”
Hutch is standing beside me. His presence startles the thoughts out of my head. All I see and feel is him.
“Let’s find out,” I say.
Avoiding Hutch is going to be harder than I thought. I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing. For me, it’s that he’s everywhere. He’s as big as the roaring fire. He’s the cool, end-of-summer breeze. He’s the impossible blanket of stars and skies. He’s the bearer of graham crackers.
“So what,” I ask, “I make a sandwich?”
“It is so much more than a sandwich. It’s a little bite of heaven.”
“I don’t know what heaven’s supposed to taste like. Do you?”
“I do.” For a moment, Hutch looks at me. He hasn’t been making much eye contact. Not the way he looks at everyone else. But now, he watches me, and his answer sinks into my skin. The implication is ripe with the things we are not supposed to be doing.
I clear my throat.
He breaks off a piece of chocolate, and instructs me to hold out my flaming marshmallow.
“Don’t let it burn too much. You have to blow it out.”
“Finally, something I’m good at.”
He acts like he didn’t hear me, but I catch the vein in his throat throb.
“Okay, pull.”
“Why is making s’mores so sexy?”
“River.”
“Hutch.” I pull the stick out, while he smooshes the sandwich together. It oozes down his fingers. I want to lick those fingers.
I bite down and let the sugar melt on my tongue. “That’s the second best thing I’ve had in my mouth all week.”
Vilma catches the last of my words. She saunters over in that cool way of hers. “Dirty girl. What was the first?”
Hutch looks like he’s carefully waiting for my answer. I wonder if he thinks I’m that much of a loose cannon. Like I’m going to rat him out or put him in a precarious situation. I hope he knows I wouldn’t do that. I hope he knows that I’ll protect both of us.
Life on the Level: On the Verge - Book Three Page 6