Once the sun has completely set, and the temperature drops, I want to go back. But in the dark, everything looks the same.
Good going, Riv.
I get up, dust the back of my shorts and pick a direction. I don’t have to go very far before I hear my name being called out in the dark. The beam of a flashlight shines around the trees.
“Here,” I say unenthusiastically. “Did you send a search party?”
“No,” Hutch says, walking through the trees. “Everyone’s at movie night. Besides, you’re not even in the woods yet. This is technically part of the parking lot.”
I scoff. “River Thomas: lost in a parking lot.”
He turns off the flashlight. There is only the light of the moon. “I talked to Helen. I convinced her you weren’t trying to jump. I know you’re not—I know you don’t want to harm yourself, but Helen’s lost people here before. One more sign, and she’ll recommend you to psych.”
“Right, because she can’t trust the word of an addict so you have to vouch for me.”
“Stop. You have to understand what it looked like to her. You don’t exactly walk around here full of pep.”
“So my general jadedness is code for suicidal? You should never go to New York.”
“River.”
“Hutch.”
He paces back and forth. I can feel his frustration radiating like waves.
His voice drops to a whisper. “You scared the life out of me. What if I’d been just a foot further away? What if I couldn’t hold onto you?”
“I didn’t realize I was falling forward until I felt you grab me. It’s a good thing you were paying attention to me.”
I let the words hang. I want him to tell me that he was watching me. I want him to admit that there’s something here.
“How can I not?”
I reach out and grab his arm. His skin is hot to my touch. His muscles tense.
“Thank you.” I run my hands down his arm. Our fingers entwine. I know I should pull away, but I can’t. I can’t let go of his hands.
“Promise,” he whispers. “Promise you’ll be more careful.”
I nod, but he can’t see that. I tug on his hand, and he edges closer. I press my other hand over his heart. It’s beating as fast as mine. I move my hand up, around his neck. I run my fingers through his hair. He grabs hold of my wrists.
“We can’t,” he whispers.
“I know.”
Still, he walks right into me, pushing me against the trunk of a tree. In the dark, I search for his lips. I kiss his chin; he kisses my nose. I hold his face with both of my hands. He grabs my waist and lifts me inches off the ground. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he keeps me pinned in place against a tree.
He kisses me. The stubble on his chin rubs my soft skin raw, but I don’t ever want to stop kissing him. This feeling is like the wind when it pushed me off that cliff. My head spins, free falling. I’m not ready to fall like this, but I can’t stop. I press him tighter against me. It’s been two weeks since the last time we kissed. Two weeks that I’ve dreamt of this.
He pulls back to catch his breath. “River.”
“Please don’t stop.”
I feel him nod against my lips. His tongue searches for mine and I push back. I bite his bottom lip. He hisses and presses me so hard I think I might melt right into the bark.
The sound of an engine revving makes us jump and break apart. We hide against separate tree trunks. Headlights shine into the area where we were kissing. I can feel my heart throbbing in every part of my body. I lick my swollen lips, then I laugh.
Hutch sighs. “I’m glad you think it’s funny.”
The car pulls out of the driveway. We wait a few minutes to make sure it’s safe. Twigs break under my feet as I walk to him. He grabs me by my arms.
“This is wrong for so many reasons,” he whispers. His fingers play with the end of my curls. “But you make me crazy, River Thomas.”
I press my finger to his lips. “Stop right there. Please. Please don’t ruin it.”
He takes my hands in his. He kisses each one, then presses them to his chest. It’s the strangest thing a guy has ever done, but I decide I like it. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I find his face in the moonlight. I kiss him. I etch this moment into my mind. It’s my first sober kiss with Chris Hutcherson, and it feels so good.
Chapter 15
Dear Sky and Leti,
I’m writing to both of youse to save time. Also this connection might as well be dial-up.
Yesterday I almost fell off a cliff. No big deal. My beautiful cowboy counselor saved me. The camp director has unofficially told me that I need a “buddy” the next time I do any physical activities. I feel like I’m in fucking kindergarten.
I think you’ll be happy to know that I’ve made friends. Clearly, not one will compare to my ride-or-die bitches, but then again, no one could. I’ve discovered an underground black market. And by underground I mean in a barn. When in Montana, do as Montanans do. I swear on everything that I haven’t gone in. The guy that runs it is a dirtbag. He should literally be made of shit. He keeps making snide comments about me. I feel like if I get enough dirt on him, he’ll have to back off. I know how these guys think.
He’s not the friend I was talking about. So far the person I like the most is Maddie. She’s a bit annoying sometimes, but I think she’s just lonely. It does gets lonely as hell. I’m lonely right now. Then there’s Julie, Fran, and Vilma. Vilma has three kids she’s not allowed to see. Fran and Julie aren’t even old enough to drink. Can you believe that? Granted, we were drinking when we were thirteen, but at least two out of the three of us turned out well. (Don’t look at me like that, Sky Lopez.)
Now, for the real reason I’m writing.
HUTCH AND I TOTALLY KISSED.
He’s been trying to keep his distance, but failed. I was really upset after the director (Helen of Troy) suggested I wanted to off myself. I don’t. I promise. Don’t even think about it. I just failed at being a nature person. Then I was in the woods and saw a REAL DOE A DEER A FEMALE DEER. It was amazing. It was like looking at the most perfect creature, because it was just innocent and pure and not terrible like people. Then Hutch found me and we just started kissing. I’m avoiding him because I know what he’s going to say. He’s going to try to put a stop to it.
How can something so wrong feel so right?
Are you guys back in the States? There’s a family visit thing in mid-October. It’s lame, I know. And I’m in the middle of nowhere. Bring me a deck of cards and a carton of American Spirits. Kidding. Kidding. (About the cards, not the cigarettes.)
There’s someone waiting to use the computer giving me a nasty look so I have to go.
Love you,
Riv
• • •
I hit send and move the arrow to sign out, but something catches my eye. I have a new e-mail address. I made this one specifically to keep in contact with Sky and Leti. No one has this address except the two of them.
But here it is, a new e-mail from [email protected].
“Come on,” Debbie mutters from the door. “I have to e-mail my boyfriend.”
I roll my eyes at her. “Do you even know how to use a computer?”
“Don’t you sass me, Miss Thing!”
I’m instantly sorry, but I turn back to the screen. The e-mail is marked NO SUBJECT. I click on the mouse with a clammy finger.
I know ur hiding. I know how 2 find u.
-K
“Are you okay?” the counselor on computer duty asks, looking up from her desk.
“Fine! Screen just froze.”
Debbie huffs behind me. “They only stopped using dial-up two years ago, what’d you expect?”
I delete the e-mail. If I could delete it a hundred times I would. I clear the inbox, then add the e-mail address to my blocked list. I close out of the browser and give my seat to Debbie. As I run out of the computer room, I bump into Hutch.
/> His smile vanishes when he gets a good look at me.
“River, what’s wrong?”
I slap his hand away. I didn’t mean to, but I just don’t want to be touched right now. He pulls his hands back. He repeats himself.
“I, um—” I’m being stalked by the man whose face I scarred. “I have to go to group.”
I run down the hall and shut the door behind me. I get in my seat and watch the doorways. Where is he? Is he in the state? How could he possibly know where I am? He doesn’t look smart enough to be a hacker, but people always surprise you. I know someone who can help, but I need to get my cellphone and get a number. The problem is, my phone is locked away in a metal cage.
There’s no one I trust enough to help me. Maddie’s close with Taylor, but Taylor is the last person I want to owe a favor to. Favors are blank checks. They’re get-away-with-murder cards, if you get one from the right people. My daddy used to rip up thousand-dollar ledgers in exchange for favors.
“Someone’s a little tense today,” Ransom says.
I try to play it off with a smirk. I have no control over my fingers, though. Two weeks without gambling and I’ve completely lost my cool. “I’m just sore from that nature walk.”
Vilma laughs. “That’s the worst kind of sore. The best kind of sore—”
“Come on now,” Ransom says. “Let’s get this show on the road. Today I want you all to think about one of the worst things that’s happened to you under the influence.”
There’s a collective groan.
“Hear me out.” Ransom paces around the room. “One of the things that helped my recovery was forcing myself to relive a lot of the terrible things I’d done. It helped me realize that I never wanted to go through that again. Facing your past is the same as facing your fears. You have to keep your eyes open.” When he stands directly behind me, I know he’s going to ask me to volunteer.
I’ve been pretty quiet during these sessions. I can’t help but keep my thoughts to myself. I do like listening to the others. Sometimes I feel bad for thinking, “At least I’m not like that guy.”
I watch Ransom watch me. I bet he’s thinking about yesterday, and my outburst. The smart thing to do would be to play along. Take the heat off me so they stop thinking I belong in psych. Besides, I don’t want to get stuck with the buddy system. Unless the buddy system involves making out with Hutch in the woods.
Hutch! I was a dick to him. Another reason we probably shouldn’t be together. I’m a wrecking ball. I destroy everything around me after I get one good push.
I get up and play with the wrinkles on my shirt for a little while. Everyone stares at me. People here are very good at waiting.
“I’ll spare you the mommy never loved me stories,” I say. No one laughs. Tough crowd. “After my dad died, I told myself I’d stop. Stop everything. Gambling, partying, drinking. It’s kind of hard when you work at a bar, but I did pretty well. Then a couple of months later, I started dating this guy. He grew up around the tables, just like I did. When we’d go to games I’d always hang back, smoking, and watching the other players for him. It was indirect gambling. Anyway, I had this chip. Just a regular blue chip, but it was my dad’s favorite. Told me it was the first time he ever won and he kept it as good luck. Now it was mine.
“Eventually I got tired of just hanging back because I knew I was better than him. I got sick of watching him lose. Sometimes, I’d tell him to stay in the game, and he’d fold just to do the opposite of what I said, because he didn’t like being told what to do.”
“Dick,” Vilma mutters, and Ransom silences her with a stare.
“Toward the end of our relationship, we went to this game in Boston with guys you don’t want to fuck with. I didn’t want to go, and I kept drinking because I was so nervous. They made me sit at the bar along with the other girls, and I was so pissed because he still wasn’t listening to me. He was down six grand. In the scheme of things, he’d make that money back. You always make it back somehow.
“I don’t know when it happened. I went to the bathroom, and he’d lost his whole hand. He started yelling at me in front of everyone. Told me I’d made him do it. I was the reason he lost. I swung at him, and he swung back. One of the bouncers threw him out. I was so pissed, and I couldn’t leave like that. So I bought myself into the game. Played until sunrise. I was up about four grand. I was feeling really baller, so I went all in. It was the biggest pot of the night. I don’t even remember the cards that I had, but at that point I just couldn’t get out of that chair, because I had nowhere else to go.
“Did you win?” a guy asks.
I scoff, shaking my head. “Nope. I made back nine hundred bucks to get back home, but by then I just felt like I was this thing crawling from the sewers. When I left, I didn’t see him until I was on the ground. I just remember glass and an alley. Some asshole must’ve thrown out a broken windowpane and just left it in the alleyway. There was blood everywhere. I thought I was dying. I just laid there, my leg all cut up and him standing right there, holding my dad’s lucky chip.”
I can see every single moment in my head. My mouth is dry and the scar on my leg is throbbing. I look at Ransom and shake my head. I can’t finish the story. It’s not because of what Kiernan did to me; it’s what I did to him when I stood back up. We both walked away with scars. I thought I’d run as far from him as possible. Everyone I knew in New York made it clear that I was off-limits. But after that e-mail today, I know it’s not over.
“Now I’m here,” I say, but I won’t finish the story.
There’s a barrage of questions.
What happened to the chip?
What happened to him?
Did he go to jail?
Even if I finish the story, people have already let speculation make up the rest.
“Thank you for sharing with us, River.”
I sit back with a falsely triumphant smile. Vilma goes after me. She starts to tell a story about passing out drunk in the middle of cooking. Something must’ve happened with one of her kids. But she can’t get through the story, and it’s left hanging in the air that they took them away from her.
Vic from Iowa shows us the scars he got from burning himself on purpose, and waking up to an accidental fire that killed his dog. The dog is what really gets people to say awww.
I don’t see him until the end of the session, when Ransom is giving a pep talk that’s better suited for Friday Night Lights. Hutch is leaning against the wall. Has he been there this whole time? Did he hear everything I said?
Before I can go to him, Ransom beats me to it. Hutch gives me one last glance as they exit the room.
Chapter 16
Twenty days sober
I wake up to Maddie standing over my bed.
I instinctively slap her away. “What the fuck?”
“Ow!” She dramatically holds her hand over her eyes, like I just bludgeoned her. “Is that the thanks I get for checking in on you?”
My head pulses. How can I feel hungover when it’s been almost three weeks since my last drink? I blame it on the jogging and general physical exertion.
“You told me to wake you up for horsies.” She says “horsies” the way a five-year-old might say it.
She’s slicked her hair back and painted two stripes of pink on her cheeks. Is that an attempt at blush? I sit up on my bed and make a face at the terrible taste in my mouth.
“I’ll be right down,” I mutter.
“You are seriously not a morning person. I’m totally a morning person. I’m pretty sure I was born in the morning, too.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I was born at midnight.”
She makes a face. I wonder if she’s gone back to the barn since the last time I saw her there. I’m sure she has, but she hasn’t showed any signs of using. Maybe she’s getting a cut from Taylor just for being there. “Midnight in hell, apparently.”
“I said I’d be right down, okay?”
“See if I ever play at being an ala
rm clock for you ever again.”
I haven’t been a morning person my whole life. My daddy used to tell me that I would sleep through the day, and as soon as the sun set, I’d be ready to play. He worked most nights as a bartender, or played the tables, and eventually he just took me with him.
Horseback riding has been a secret dream of mine since I was a little girl. It’s taken me a while to warm up to actually doing it though, because up close, horses are terrifying. They’re massive, powerful creatures that somehow manage to be gentle at the same time. I like to walk near the stable and brush them. Jillian Montoya runs the stables. All the patients are assigned shifts to water and feed the horses. My favorite is a white one with golden brown splotches on his sides. Jillian calls him a paint horse. His name is Apollo, and today I’m going to ride him.
Because I’m the least prepared out of everyone here apparently, Helen volunteered to buy me a pair of cowboy boots. I told her to put it on my tab, but she didn’t exactly find it funny.
In my jeans, boots, and long-sleeved plaid shirt, I feel a little bit awkward. It’s like I’m wearing someone else’s life. Sure, I’ve gotten used to the routine, and I’m getting better at the talking thing, but something is off. It’s like I’m a stranger to myself.
I smile like an idiot when I see Hutch in his cowboy hat and boots. We haven’t spoken since we kissed, and then I hit him, and then he heard that story I told. He’s certainly been making himself scarce. He hasn’t even slept at the facility since the kiss happened. It’s like he’s getting ready to break up with me, and we’re not even together. But if anyone is going to break up with anyone, I’m going to break up with him. He can’t just kiss me and say nice things to me and save my life and then act like it doesn’t mean anything.
“Morning,” he says, while brushing his horse. Her name is Elphaba, and she’s pitch black from head to toe.
“Hey.”
Life on the Level: On the Verge - Book Three Page 9