Copper River

45

I t had been a hard day for Ren. Although his mother insisted he miss no more school, he wasn’t able to concentrate. At lunch when Amber Kennedy dropped her notebook beside the table where he was eating and bent to pick it up giving him a clear view down her blouse, he barely noticed. His worry about Charlie consumed him.

He ditched his afternoon classes and searched for her. He tried her father’s trailer, then in a moment of brilliant deduction thought about the abandoned lumberyard next door. She wasn’t there, either. He checked the old freight warehouse on the harbor that had most of the windows broken out and pigeon droppings spotting the concrete floor. No Charlie. The only other possibility he could think of was that she’d broken into one of the summer cabins on the lake or along the river, but there were way too many to check them all.

He stopped at the Farber House and Mrs. Taylor let him use the phone to call home. No one answered. He left a message saying he was hanging out in town for a while, and not to worry. He’d be home in time for dinner.

He went to the picnic shelter where he’d got high with Stash and Charlie and where all the trouble had begun. He sat on the table and watched the river sweeping past in striations of white and black water.

Where was Charlie?

He’d been worried before, only to find that she’d taken care of herself just fine. He shouldn’t be worried now, he tried to tell himself, but he couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling. Everything important in his life seemed to have changed or be changing. His father dead. His mother lost in grieving. Charlie getting weird. Bodine suddenly a scary place. He wished he could go back and stop time, freeze everything in place. He longed for it all to be comfortable and familiar, like the ground under his feet.

He finally got up, followed the Copper River to the old mine, and checked it again. Empty.

It was late when he started home. The Huron Mountains were eating the sun. The woods were full of long shadows. Far to the east, a few feathery clouds were already tinted with the glow of sunset. His mother was probably home from work, making dinner. She’d be worried. Still, he walked slowly, weighted. By the time he reached the Killbelly Marsh Trail, the sun had gone down and the path he followed was a tunnel of cool blue light. He turned off the trail and headed through the trees toward the cabins, past the shot-up car behind the shed. His mother’s Blazer was parked in front of Thor’s Lodge, but the Pathfinder was gone. Ren stepped inside the cabin and found it empty. The evening light through the windows illuminated the place with a steely grayness. Ren sensed something was wrong and wondered if an emergency had pulled the adults away. He left the door open and hurried to the kitchen, hoping for a note.

He found it on the counter, anchored in place by the toaster:

Ren,

Gone for a while. Cork and Dina are with me.

Back soon.

Love,

Mom

For a moment, he felt relieved.

Then he felt a draft of air on his neck as something moved in the room behind him.

“Hello there, Ren,” said a deep, unfriendly voice at his back.