“I know why you’re here,” he tells her. “I know all about your deal with Roberta, and your friends at the Graveyard.”
She hesitates for a moment, then begins to eat her sandwich. “You have your deal with her, I have mine,” she says in a peanut-butter-muffled voice. She tries to walk away, but Cam grabs her. She quickly pulls out of his grasp and pushes him against the wall. “I’ve come to accept it!” she yells at him. “So you might as well too!”
“So was it all just pretend? Was being nice to the freak just a performance to save your friends?”
“Yes!” snaps Risa. “At first.”
“And now?”
“Do you really think so little of yourself? Do you really think I’m that good of an actress?”
“Then prove it!” he demands. “Prove that you feel anything but contempt for me!”
“Right now that’s all I feel for you!” Then she storms out, hurling her sandwich into the trash.
Five minutes later, Cam swipes a pass card from an inattentive guard and uses it to get past the security door into the garage. Then he steals a motorcycle and takes off down the winding path out of the estate.
He has no destination, just a burning need for acceleration. He’s sure there is at least one speed freak in his head, maybe more. He knows several of his constituents drove motorcycles. He takes every turn too fast until he finally gets to the town of Kualapuu, giving satisfaction to every self-destructive impulse that resides within him. Then he takes a turn too sharply, loses control, and flies from the bike, rolling over and over on the pavement.
He’s hurt, but he’s alive. Motorists stop and get out of their cars to help him, but he doesn’t want their help. He gets to his feet and feels a sharp pain in his knee. His back feels shredded; blood from beneath his hairline clouds his eyes.
“Hey, buddy, you okay?” yells some tourist. Then he stops short. “Hey! Hey, it’s you! You’re that rewind kid! Hey, look, it’s that rewind kid!”
He hurries away from them and gets on the motorcycle again, riding back the way he came. By the time he arrives, there are already police cars out front. Roberta sees him and runs to him.
“Cam!” she wails. “What did you do? What did you do? My God! You need medical attention! We’ll get the doctor right away!” Then she turns angrily to the house guards. “How could you let this happen?”
“It’s not their fault!” yells Cam. “I’m not a dog that got off its leash, so don’t treat me like one!”
“Let me look at your wounds. . . .”
“Back off!” he yells loudly enough for her to actually back off. Then he pushes past everyone, goes up to his room, and locks the world out.
A few minutes later there’s a gentle knocking at his door, as he knew there would be. Roberta, trying to handle her volatile boy with kid gloves. But it’s not Roberta.
“Open up, Cam, it’s Risa.”
She’s the second-to-last person he wants to see right now, but the fact that she came surprises him. The least he can do is open the door.
She stands at his threshold with a first aid kit in her hand. “It’s really stupid to bleed out just because you’re pissed off.”
“I’m not ‘bleeding out.’ ”
“But you are bleeding. Can I at least take care of the worst of it? Believe it or not, I was the chief medic at the Graveyard. I dealt with stuff like this all the time.”
He opens the door wider and lets her in. He sits at his desk chair and allows her to clean the wound on his cheek. Then she has him take off his torn shirt and begins cleaning his back. It stings, but he bears it without wincing.
“You’re lucky,” she tells him. “You have lacerations, but none of them need stitches, and you didn’t tear any of your seams.”
“I’m sure Roberta will be relieved.”
“Roberta can go to hell.”
For once Cam agrees with her. She takes a look at his knee and tells him that whether he likes it or not, he’s going to need to have it x-rayed. When she’s done assessing his wounds, he takes a good look at her. If she’s still angry at him from before, it doesn’t show. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Going out like that was stupid.”
“It was human,” she points out.
Cam reaches out and gently touches her face. Let her slap him for it. Let her rip his arm out of its socket, he doesn’t care.