Girl, Stolen

Griffin was the only one who might want to save her. Cheyenne had to make sure he continued to see her as a person. She had to make him care about protecting her. She had to give him a reason to hesitate. No more arguing with him, she vowed. No more fighting. Because her life depended on it.

But Cheyenne knew it was a one-way street. If she had a moment when she might turn the tables, she had to be willing to do whatever it took. Even if it meant hurting Griffin. Even if it meant worse than that. Because she was pretty sure this situation was going to end with somebody dead.

After a long pause, Griffin said, “How come you think I’m not like them?” She couldn’t read the emotions that colored his voice.

“You’re kind, for one thing. And for another, I think you’re smarter than they are.” Cheyenne was telling the truth. If she had to lie, she hoped she could make that sound like the truth, too.

He shook his head hard enough that she could feel it because the bed wiggled. “I’m not smart. I dropped out of school before they could kick me out.”

“I don’t believe it. Maybe you have troubles reading, but I do too, and I’m still smart, and so are you. If you start believing what other people think, you’ll never get anywhere.”

Cheyenne thought of her biology teacher, Mr. Waddell. Even though he insisted his name was wa-DELL, the kids all called him Mr. Waddle. “Just because you have a disability, I’m not going to be lenient with you,” he had informed Cheyenne, asking her to stay behind after her first class with him. “Don’t expect any special considerations from me. You will be treated like any other student.” Of course, was he really any worse than Ms. Crispin, who taught English? For their project, everyone in the group had gotten a failing grade. Cheyenne got a B. For the exact same project. Two weeks ago, Ms. Crispin had said to Cheyenne, “I wanted to tell you how impressed I am. You can hardly tell you have a disability.”

Griffin’s bitter voice snapped Cheyenne back into the here and now. “You really think it makes any difference what I think of myself? You really think I could be anybody I wanted to, even president of the United States? You’ve got to face facts, Cheyenne. You’re blind, which means you’re never going to be able to do a million things. And the facts of my life mean I don’t have many choices, either. I don’t have many choices at all.”

“So does that mean you just have to go along with what’s happening here? Just because you took my stepmom’s car doesn’t mean you have to keep going down this road with them.”

“What are you thinking? Are you thinking I’m going to drive you to the police station and turn myself in?”

Put like that, Cheyenne could hear how ridiculous the idea was. But what would happen to her? She blurted out her fear. “I don’t think they’re ever going to let me go.”

“Of course they will.” Griffin sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

“You know as well as I do what the easiest solution would be,” Cheyenne countered. “For them to keep the money and get rid of me. I’m the only witness. Probably nobody saw you at the shopping mall. Certainly not well enough to recognize you. And it was a fluke thing. You have no connection to my family or to me. None. Meanwhile, the police will be looking at people connected to Catlin Gabel School, and every housekeeper and groundskeeper we’ve ever had, and people Dad knows through Nike. They’ll look at everyone who works at Nike now or who has ever worked there, including all the people who have been fired from Nike and all the people who hate Nike because they think it has overseas sweatshops.”

“That’s a pretty big list. That’s practically the United States of America.”

“Right,” Cheyenne said. “So what are the chances that they’ll find you guys? Probably pretty slim. Unless you give me back. And those other guys won’t believe me if I say I won’t tell. That if you let me go, I won’t say anything. But I promise I won’t.”

“We’re gonna give you back, okay? We’ll take you someplace safe and turn you loose.” Again Griffin sounded as if he wished he believed what he was saying.

There had to be a way for her to get out of this alive, Cheyenne thought. There had to.

“What would have happened if I had gone through the bathroom window? What’s back there, anyway?”

“Nothing. No people anyway, at least not for most of it. It’s just woods. It stretches on for miles. To the east, there’s a river. To the west, there’s our road, and after about four miles, that meets up with a bigger road. But it’s still pretty quiet. You probably would have just wandered around and got lost and died. It gets down pretty far below freezing at night.”

Cheyenne opened her mouth to say something but found herself yawning so she made a creaking noise.

She felt his cool hand on her forehead. “I think the Advil brought your fever down. You need to get to sleep. We both do.” He pulled the blanket up to her chin. “The floor’s too hard. I’m going to sleep on the other side of the bed in a sleeping bag. Don’t worry — I won’t bother you or anything.”

Cheyenne knew that if she could see, Griffin’s face would be bright red.

She heard him stand up, turn off the light, then felt him sit on the other side of the bed. Rustling as he got into his sleeping bag. No part of him touched her, so she knew he must be lying just on the edge of the bed.

She was exhausted, but she was also wide awake. She couldn’t pin her hopes on Griffin. He might stop things from happening, but he probably wouldn’t. After all, he was just a kid. Like her.

Long after Griffin’s breathing had reached an even rhythm, Cheyenne lay awake, trying to think of a way out.

If she could get to a phone.

If she could find another way to alert the authorities.

If she could persuade Griffin to save her.

If she could escape.

Nothing but ifs.

LET’S SEND HIM A FINGER

When Griffin woke up, he didn’t know where he was. He was on the wrong side of the bed, in a sleeping bag, with someone breathing right next to him.

And then it all came back to him in a rush.

He levered himself on one elbow. Cheyenne’s breathing hitched, but then straightened out again. Her face was still pale, except for the flush across her cheeks, but she didn’t look as bad as she had the night before. He wondered if this was how married people felt when one of them woke up and the other one was still asleep. Her mouth was soft and vulnerable. Underneath her pale lids, her eyes moved back and forth. What was she seeing in her dreams?

Even though he had gotten just a few hours of sleep, Griffin was now wide awake. He managed to get off the bed with a minimum of rustling. He padded out into the kitchen, the floor icy under his bare feet. The woodstove was going in the living room, but the heat only went so far.

Griffin was surprised to find Roy, awake, leaning against the counter, drinking coffee. Next to him, the phone lay on the counter. Or what was left of the phone. Someone had taken a hammer to it. Now it was shards of plastic and colorful wires. Griffin was surprised he hadn’t heard his dad whaling on it the night before. He poked at it.

“What happened to the phone?”

Roy shrugged. “Insurance. I don’t want her getting loose and calling anyone. Now she can’t.” His eyes were bloodshot and his hands shaky.

Griffin wondered why his dad hadn’t just unplugged it and stuck it on a high shelf, but there was no use asking. “What if I need to call someone?”

“You can use that mobile I got.” He looked over Griffin’s shoulder. “Is she sleeping?”

“Yeah. In the middle of the night, she seemed like she was running a fever. I went through the stuff in the bathroom and found an old prescription of Mom’s to give her.”

At the mention of the bathroom, Griffin had been sure his dad would remember to ask what had happened to the shower curtain. Instead, he just looked startled. “Your mom’s? Really?”

His dad never talked about his mom anymore. But after Griffin came home from the hospital, he would sometimes find his dad crying and holding something that used to belong to his mom — a bracelet or a sweater. She had left a lot of stuff behind. They had had a big fight about what had happened to Griffin. It must have been the last straw, because she had taken off with her purse and her car and some pictures of Griffin and that was it.