“I came in in the middle of the call so I missed the beginning,” River hedges. “Plus, it was the third call of the night.”
“That’s okay,” I say too fast. He seems nervous and reticent, and I don’t want to scare him by being too intense and desperate, hungry. But I also don’t want to seem so nonchalant he decides not to tell me.
“My grandfather said my dad has to get started before anyone in town realizes.”
“Get started on what?” I say. “Realizes what?”
“I don’t know.” He won’t look at me. “And he said my dad shouldn’t be worrying about buying beers and kissing babies. He should be worrying you’ll find it.”
My breath catches. So there is an it! Something to find, something they don’t want us to find. “Find what?” I manage.
“I don’t know.” He shrugs with just his right shoulder, arms down by his sides. “And he said…” He trails off.
“What?”
“My dad said he felt bad about, you know, you.” He blushes slowly. “But my grandfather said you’re your own fault.”
“We’re our own fault?” I feel like Monday. I understand each of the words, but together they make no sense.
“He said probably you drink nothing but cheap beer and two-liter sodas and eat nothing but white bread and chips, and probably you’ve never even seen the inside of a gym.” His face is getting redder, hotter, like he’s dawning. “And my dad said that’s not your fault because your grocery store doesn’t really carry much produce, never mind an organics section, and the only yoga studio’s in the church. And my grandfather said if you treat your bodies like that, what do you expect.”
I think of Mrs. Shriver, but her inversion of cause and effect is on purpose. I mean Duke Templeton’s probably is too but not so we’ll grow as learners.
“And my dad was worried you’d figure it out,” River says miserably.
“Figure what out?”
“I don’t know, but my grandfather said you wouldn’t because you’re…” He trails off again.
“What?” I know I have to keep him talking, and I also know I don’t want to know what he’s about to tell me.
He says it so low I almost don’t hear. “Inbred.”
“Inbred?”
“So my dad shouldn’t worry you’ll outsmart him.”
“What the f—”
“And that he shouldn’t feel bad anyway because really you guys screwed us.” He looks up and meets my eyes for the first time. Clears his throat. “Belsum invested all this money, and you guys sabotaged us and then lied and faked disabilities to scam us out of more cash.”
“He thinks all that?” It’s absurd, but it’s so absurd it’s hard to take seriously enough to get your feelings hurt.
“I don’t know,” River says again. “Maybe not.” His expression has crossed over from embarrassed to more like ashamed, which is something I guess. “Maybe he was just talking trash. Psyching my dad up. Shooting down his objections. Trying to get him to do what he wants him to do.”
Petra and I are speechless. If she weren’t, she would say “aphonic.”
Finally it occurs to me to wonder, “What did your dad say?”
“Not much.” He shrugs again. “He never does.”
“So what’s he going to do?” Petra asks. “How’s he going to get started on whatever it is before we find whatever he’s hiding?”
“I don’t know. And I can’t ask him because then he’d know I was listening.”
But that’s not the right question. “Why?” I ask.
“Why what?”
“Why did you eavesdrop on your father and your grandfather?”
He slides his eyes away from mine. “Lots of reasons.”
“Enigmatical,” Petra says to me.
“Agreed,” I agree. “When last we spoke”—I turn back to River—“you said I was crazy.”
“Yeah. Hoped you were crazy is maybe a better way of putting it. You have to admit it’s a little far-fetched. My grandfather knew his chemical was going to poison the town but he made it anyway? My grandfather saw it was killing everyone but refused to stop? Crazy.”
“The story’s crazy,” I agree. “But I’m not.”
“I couldn’t get it out of my head. I thought there’s no way it could be true. But…”