Delinquent Camp

Chapter Twenty-Six

Twenty-Six

        I hear the rain pelting the windshield of the van, shaking me from my light sleep. When I open my eyes, the sky is starting to lighten despite of the weather. Beside me, I feel Rhyson’s eyes on my face but I don’t dare look at him. As soon as yesterday’s events come back to me, I start pinching my arms, my legs; anywhere, to keep me paying attention to the small pain so that I don’t start crying.

            “Hungry?” Rhyson asks, his voice soft. I shrug and he pulls off the highway into a fast food drive through. He order’s without asking what I want and hands me a bag a few moments later, the smell of hash browns, fries and a milkshake quickly making me straighten up.

            “Where are we?” I ask, shoving a hash brown into my mouth. The greasy, warm food makes my stomach growl.

            “Not too far away,” he replies, moving his eyes off the road to watch me. He opens his hand and I give him my milkshake. After he takes a sip, he grins. “I never thought I would miss fast food so much. Haven’s food really sucks.”

            I nod in agreement and stare out my window. After a little while, the rain stops and there’s a light fog in some places. Outside is damp and I pull on my red Safe Haven sweater for warmth.

            “Now for the latest news,” the radio murmurs, breaking the silence. When it was raining I didn’t even know it was on, but neither Rhyson nor I reach to turn it off. “Police are investigating the death of a Safe Haven teenager after he was found dead. Officers are not revealing much on the case but say that it’s a boy and no foul play was involved.”

            I instantly cover my ears as the two reporters start to talk about it. Squeezing my eyes shut, a few tears roll down my cheeks and I shake my head back and forth. It felt surreal, like this wasn’t really happening. But now that it’s on the radio, I realize that it wasn’t a dream. Danny is dead, and it’s my entire fault. It’s my fault that we went to the island. It’s my fault he had to climb down. It’s my fault he went on the rope swing and now he’s dead. I killed Danny.

            “No, no, no, no,” I whimper, shaking my head again. I feel a hand on my shoulder and lower my hands from my ears. Slowly opening my eyes, I see Rhyson’s pulled over and he’s watching me, his eyes worried. The radio is now off but it doesn’t matter; I’m not going to calm down.

            “Gemma,” he whispers, squeezing my shoulder. He searches for words but finds none. What can you say to comfort a murderer? Nothing.

            I turn my eyes away from him and hug my knees tightly to my chest. “I can’t do this anymore.”

            “What?”

            “I can’t do this anymore!” I practically shout.

            “You can’t do what, Gemma?” Rhyson asks, trying to turn me to face him. “What are you talking about?”