Life on the Level (25 page)

Make love.

I’ve never called it that before. Mostly because it sounds lame, and a little ridiculous. As I watch Hutch walk back and forth in the camp, getting ready to head back to HCRC, I feel my heart flutter and I want to shout at him, “I love you!”

Instead, I keep it to myself, filing it away where our kind of romance must be kept—in secret.

The day after we return from camping, I decide to take Ransom up on his offer to join his kickboxing class. It’s tough, because the guys in it are so much bigger than I am, but I’ve got loads of bottled up anger and resentment to throw into a punch. I alternate between picturing my mother, Kiernan, past managers who tried to feel me up, teachers who called me stupid, and, of course, Taylor. Even though Ransom insists that violence isn’t the way to fix problems, grunting and shouting at a big leather sack is pretty therapeutic in its violence.

“No violence toward
others,”
Ransom reminds me.

I know the difference between a person and punching bag. I do. I wonder how many times I’ll have to punch inanimate objects before all my anger is gone.

“Anger doesn’t fully go away,” Ransom says. “We live with our emotions. It’s the way we channel those emotions that makes us the people we are.”

“I think that’s the speech Uncle Ben gave Peter Parker.”

He chuckles, and the nerdy boy holding the punching bag for me looks at me with puppy dog eyes. Ransom shakes his head and laughs even harder.

“If anger doesn’t fully go away, then why do people always tell you to ‘let go’ and all that hippie mumbo jumbo? What’s the point?”

“Because,” Ransom says, correcting my stance before I do a high kick, “you’re letting go of specific situations. For instance, I had a lot of anger at my wife for cheating on me with one of the guys on my team. After my accident, I was angrier. It was a downward spiral, and instead of taking responsibility for the things that pushed her away, the things that led me to the darkest time of my life, I blamed it on her. It wasn’t ‘til a few years ago that I took any of the blame myself. I was angry. It was like I was stuck in a room and water was filling it up, and I kept floating to the top to try to get some air.”

I wipe sweat from my forehead. The other guys gather around and remove their gloves, focusing their attention on Ransom.

“How did you stop it?” Nick, my puppy-eyed nerdy boy, asks.

Ransom presses his lips together. I wonder if he even knows. He looks a little unsure. “Well, when the drugs and drinking almost killed me, I decided I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to be controlled by my hatred. It was like punching a hole through the wall, and the water—the anger—started flooding away. I could breathe again. I wanted to breathe. I wanted to live. But, like all things, you have to work on making sure that anger doesn’t come back. You have to sweat it out in a way that doesn’t harm someone else in the process.”

Ransom looks at me when he says that. Instead of saying something sarcastic, I simply nod. I recognize that suffocating feeling he was talking about. On some level, I’ve carried it with me my whole life.

• • •

After my muscles turn to jelly and I’ve given myself half an hour in the sauna, I hide in the library. I pick up
The Mists of Avalon
and try to get lost in a magical world. The library here is a small room, but the bookshelves go from floor to ceiling. There’s the girl walking around sniffing the book pages. When she sees me, she looks embarrassed, and takes her book outside.

The door opens again, and Taylor comes in. He surveys the room, and when he realizes it’s otherwise empty, comes over on the couch and sits next to me.

“What?” I ask.

“Heard you almost drowned,” he says. “You sure are accident-prone.”

“If you call a faulty life vest accident-prone, then sure.”

He chuckles. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I wanted to extend my services to you. I’m sure it’s been lonely here for you. If you ever need a friend.”

“Pass,” is all I say.

“Why don’t you like me River? I never did anything to you.”

“You want the truth?”

“Hit me.” He slouches, like those guys on the subway who manspread.

I wish I could hit him, but Ransom’s anger-speech is fresh in my mind. I set my book down and look him dead in the face. “I don’t like being threatened. I don’t like when people spook my horse. I don’t like the way you leer at the girls here, and frankly, I don’t like that you take advantage of the people you’re supposed to be caring for.”

Something dark crosses his face. “I’m not caring for anyone. I get paid to mop the floors and shovel some hay. I’m not some fancy head doctor or counselor that gets bank for listening to how sad your life has been. As for the other stuff, you’ve got a wild imagination, girly. Horses are like women; anything scares them.”

I feel a flash of rage fill my chest. I clench my fists, like I’m ready to defend myself, but I know Taylor would never hit me. Not here, at least. He wouldn’t risk losing his barn operation over me. He’s all talk, like most guys I’ve come across. He just gets off on scaring people, and because I’m not going to back down, it just makes him all the angrier.

I level my gaze at him.
You can’t scare me.

“I find your attempts at intimidation hilarious. You don’t want to fuck with me.”

“That’s my line,” Taylor says. “Well, you got me figured out. I guess I’ll leave you to it.”

He starts to head out the door. Pine-Sol fumes and smoke cling to his clothes. When he turns around, he smiles widely. There’s a knowing glint in his eye, like a predator who’s cornered his prey. Like he knows there’s nowhere for me to run.

“I’m glad you had a great camping trip, River. I’m sure Hutch enjoyed himself, too.”

I throw the book across the room after he leaves. Taylor knows. Either he knows, or he’s trying to trick me into revealing something. I shelve the book and pass by Hutch’s office. He isn’t there. He’s not in the media room, the cafeteria, or the backyard. I’m ready to break into a sweat when Hutch passes me in the hallway by my room. He’s got a great big smile and a little bounce in his step.

“Been looking for you,” he says. “Want to ride?”

“You or a horse?” I ask. I just can’t help it.

His grin is sly, and turns my brain into fluff as I follow him out into the stables. Jillian is saddling some horses, and has a couple of new people ready to ride. Group activities are great alibis, but a big part of me just wants to have Hutch all to myself, away from all of this. I want to be back in the woods.

Hutch demonstrates how to saddle the horse. Apollo nudges my arm, and I pet his face.

“Nervous?” Hutch asks.

“I wasn’t ‘til just now. I really don’t want to fall again.” I put on my gloves and secure the helmet strap under my chin. I’d much rather wear a cowboy hat like him, but that’s out of the question. “I have to talk to you.”

Worry scrunches his features. He nods. “When we rest in the field. I’ll stay close by.”

We ride as a group across the deep, golden grass. It’s amazing how suddenly the seasons change when you’re not looking. It’s a little bit like my feelings for Hutch. As I dig my heels into Apollo’s flanks, I feel this uncontrollable feeling surge in my heart, swelling like the mountains before me. I lean forward into the hard, cold wind, but I don’t slow down now that I’ve got a good pace going.

After a solid half hour, we stop in a beautiful field, where the grass is tall and there’s a trickle of water nearby. The new kids don’t want to dismount, so Jillian tells us we can wait here while they ride a little further. I don’t miss the wink she gives me.

Out here it feels like we’re the only two people on earth. Hutch helps me down from the horse. I wrap my arms around his neck, and lose myself in the magnetic attraction I have for him. He hasn’t shaved since the trip, and I love the way his beard tickles my face. We’re rolling around on the grass. I land on top, straddling him like my horse.

I rest my hands on his chest to feel his heartbeat. It gets faster the more I rub my hands across his chest. I look over my shoulder, my hair going all over the place.

“Hutch.”

“River.”

“We have to talk.”

“You’re not breaking up with me, are you?” He sits up on his elbows. He’s a miraculous sight, in his corduroy jacket with its wool lining. He takes a bit of straw and munches on it like a cigar.

“No, dummy. You’d have to be my boyfriend in order for me to break up with you.”

“Ouch.” His eyebrows rise high on his forehead. “I think I feel like your boyfriend.”

“We don’t go out on dates. We just hook up.”

“I knew you were tough, Riv. But damn.”

“I’m stating facts.”
Stop stating facts, River. Stop ruining the moment.

He doesn’t seem to like that. I regret saying that because I can see it makes him sad.

“Yeah,” he says.

“I’m sorry. I can’t help being a dick sometimes. I’m not— I’m not good at this part of things. I’m only good at the sex part.”

“You’re good at all the parts, River.” He squeezes my waist. “Every single part. You’re just afraid to let yourself go.”

I’d roll my eyes. Here’s another counselor telling me to “let go” like I’m some Disney fucking princess. Still, I ignore that because his words, his other words, make me so hot. I wonder how long we have before the others comes back.

No, focus.
I tell him about what Taylor said to me. He’s pulling me up in seconds, grabbing Elphaba’s reins.

“I’m going to kill that—”

“Easy,
counselor.”
I grab his arm, but it’s like trying to move a tree. “Don’t you get it? He knows. Someone saw us, and I’m willing to bet it was Julie. I told you, it’s not just a harmless crush. That girl is seriously crazy about you. Do you know she cornered me and all but told me she rigged her own life vest to get her mouth on you?”

He looks at me like I just kneed him in the gut. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because! You’re too important. I want to protect you. You have more to lose than I do. Everyone expects me to mess up, but you—”

“Don’t make decisions like that for me.” He turns around, facing the mountains. He takes his hat off, runs his fingers through his curls, then sets it back on his head. When he turns toward me, the sight of him makes my heart squeeze. “I’m going to talk to him. Man to man.”

“That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.”

“He can’t talk to you like that.”

“What are you going to say? Don’t threaten my girlfriend? You’d be fired in a second. I think—I think I can get him to mess up. We can’t go to Helen without proof. Otherwise your career is over. Why are you smiling?”

He closes the distance between us. It is so hard to be objective when he looks at me like that. He takes his hat off and sets it atop my head. It’s too big, but he tilts it back so he can see my face. He bends down to kiss me. My lips give way to his too easily, too eagerly. There’s no stopping the pitter-patter of my heart. When he pulls away, I can hear the thunderous sound of hooves approaching. He steps back, a victorious smirk on his face.

“Because, you just called yourself my girlfriend.”

I make Hutch promise to leave the Taylor thing alone. To trust in my plan.

After my session with Ransom, I find Hutch in the game room. Sometimes he tries to teach me to play chess, but I don’t like it, so we change to Candyland, which is more my speed. I tell him about Sky and Leti and how amazing they are. He tells me about the pranks he helped his brother pull back in high school. He tells me about visiting his brother in prison, and how they don’t talk much anymore. I tell him Sky and I used to pretend to be fraternal twins just to fuck with people, and in the fifth grade got away with it for three whole days.

I want Hutch to get me a deck of cards, but he doesn’t think it would be a good idea. I still miss shuffling them. Sometimes I get nostalgic. We retreat into my room. I lie on his lap while he reads the local paper. In the halls we keep the most distance. We dance around touching each other—a hand grazes here; our feet touch there. Being away from him is like water torture. He doesn’t see me for three whole nights and I feel wrecked. I remember times sitting with Sky being all heartbroken because a guy hadn’t called her, and I’d tell her, “Get over it. There are plenty of boys in the sea, each one slicker than the last.” Now I feel like the same lovesick puppy I used to make fun of.

When he mentions the girlfriend thing, I tell him he’s crazy and to forget it. I’ve never been anyone’s girlfriend, really, and I can’t start now. I’m my own worst enemy. I’m my own Benedict Arnold. I’m fucking Lando Calrissian. I’m Roose Bolton, stabbing my future in the gut. Hutch drops the subject, but does little to hide his disappointment.

As part of our stay-away-from-each-other plan, I sit at every lunch table where he isn’t. During breakfast, there isn’t enough decaf in the planet to keep me awake while Randy tells me about each girl in a long list of conquests and how we should give it another shot.

At lunch, Nick and I rank the best superhero movies. I have a special place in my heart for campy superheroes, while he loves the super serious takes on them. Nick has cute dimples and shaggy hair. If his glasses were round, he’d be my rehab Harry Potter. I can tell by the way he leans in to me when he speaks and blushes when I make penis jokes that he likes me. In another time, I’d have ruined him.

Then I realize I’m not doing much better with Hutch. Just because he hasn’t lost his job doesn’t mean everything is going to end up well with us. I start to wonder: am I actually becoming a better person?

No, River. You’re still the same. Only sober.

• • •

I keep an eye on Maddie for days. She’s been retreating and hanging out less and less with others. Her time here is going to be over on November 1
^st
. I wonder if she’s counting the days ‘til freedom. I wonder if the first thing she’s going to do is go and get high as a kite. I wonder if she’ll be right back here the week after.

One thing’s for sure: I have to find a way to guarantee Hutch’s safety. I didn’t want to admit how much Taylor freaked me out. If we were in New York I’d have my bouncers put the fear of God into him. But we’re not in New York. We’re here, and as much as I hate it, he has a higher hand.