They crested the last rise, only to find a barren mountain peak.

“Where’s the camp?” Rachelle asked, looking in every direction. “We should be able to see it from here. I know this is the mountain we could see from our campsite.”

Lavender turned in a slow circle, checking in every direction. Spread out below them was an incredible view. If she’d had food and water and a map, maybe she would have appreciated it. Mile after mile of spectacular scenery … as far as her eyes could see there were mountains, trees, rock spires, and—she took it in with a feeling of despair—a vast untouched wilderness.

“Stay calm. We all just need to stay calm,” John ordered, and Lavender wondered if he was talking to Rachelle or to himself. “We knew we might not find someone here, but I bet the reception will be better. I’m going to try my phone. I’m sure we can get a signal from up here.”

“And I’ve got my radio!” Lavender said.

Lavender dug it out of her backpack and turned it on with shaking hands. Nothing.

She held her breath as John powered up his cell phone. It felt like an eternity as the screen lit up and slowly turned on. The display shone: 3:43 p.m. Their twenty-four hours were up.

If Marisol’s mom’s TV shows were right, they weren’t ever going to be found.

John began dialing 911 over and over again.

There was no answer. There was no signal. Still.

Lavender tried her radio. Same result as before. The last remaining bubble of hope in Lavender’s chest burst and oozed into something dark and heavy and terrifying, weighing down every limb. She collapsed onto her knees and rested her forehead on the hot ground. So that was it.

“There has to be a trail. Some sort of trail. We just didn’t cross it,” John said, dashing a little way down the peak. “Maybe on the other side of the mountain.”

Lavender stayed glued to her spot in the dirt.

She heard Marisol say, “Didn’t Mr. Gonzales say that some areas mark trails with little piles of rocks or spray paint on rocks and trees? Maybe we didn’t see the trail because we’re expecting to see a path, and we just weren’t looking for the right thing.”

Meanwhile, John was growing frantic. “No! No! No!” he said as he sped by her again and rushed in another direction, still vainly searching for a trail, a path, a campsite, a backpacker.

It was useless. They were doomed.

Lavender couldn’t make herself get up to help. There was no point looking for something that wasn’t there. Her head pounded. Lavender flopped onto her back. It no longer mattered if she could get up. She would never move again. This was it.

Using her backpack as a pillow, Lavender studied the clouds overhead. The sky was still thick with them. They were moving quickly, racing across the sky, furling and unfurling in billows like puffs of smoke. She wished she could reach out and scoop the particles into her hand. Instead they taunted her. Thousands of feet above her, out of reach, she could see them—huge bursts of ice particles. She was going to die of thirst, while looking at exquisite works of art made of water.

Life was cruel.

And short.

Well, hers would be short. Sixth graders were supposed to worry about being bored in school and having too much homework and if their crush liked them back and who to invite to their birthday party. Sixth graders were not supposed to be worried about whether or not they would have enough food or clean water or how they were going to die.

Lost in her own thoughts, Lavender ignored the others. She had no idea how much time had passed when a shadow fell across her face. Marisol was standing over her.

“Any luck?” Lavender asked, already sure of a negative answer. “Did you find anything?”

“No,” said Marisol. “But thanks for all your help.” She plopped into the dirt beside Lavender.

“I’m sorry. I’m just too tired and thirsty to move.”

“How do you think the rest of us feel?” But Marisol leaned back, planting her head on the backpack next to Lavender’s. “Scoot over. Give me some room.”

“Where are Rachelle and John?” Lavender asked.

“John decided to try digging for water. He remembers seeing a survival show where people in the desert dug a hole at the base of a tree or something and found a puddle of water.”

“Wouldn’t it be all muddy and gross?’ asked Lavender.

“Who cares? At this point, I’d drink mud water.”

“Me too.” Lavender paused.

“I’d drink anything,” Marisol said.

“Even urine?”

“Honestly, I thought about that. I’ve heard sailors used to do that if they ran out of water.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Me either.”

“What if it means the difference between life and death?” asked Lavender.

“Then I guess we’re going to die,” said Marisol with a weak attempt at a chuckle.

Lavender tried to laugh, too, but she couldn’t. She was afraid if she showed any hint of emotion, she was going to be swallowed up by all of them—but mostly despair.

“Where’s Rachelle? Is she helping John?” Lavender asked.

She felt, rather than saw, Marisol shake her head.

“What’s she doing?”

Marisol sighed. “She’s losing her mind. I think she might actually be having a breakdown. When we couldn’t find any trails or anything, she just went berserk. I tried to help her, but she told me to leave her alone. I think she was crying, but there were, like, no tears. It was freaky.”

Crying without tears.

That sounded bad. They must be really dehydrated if that was the case. Lavender had two choices: She could just lie there until something killed her or—

“I should probably get up and do something,” Lavender said. “Like help John dig.”

“Yeah,” said Marisol. “Me too.”

Neither of them moved. They lay there in silence. Lavender didn’t know what Marisol was doing, but Lavender was watching the clouds again. They had morphed into new shapes, startling in beauty and a haunting reminder of everything she was about to lose. She closed her eyes for a minute, just remembering, listening to the sound of Marisol’s breathing and wondering how long her parents would keep looking for her after she gave up. She missed them, but she was fiercely, selfishly glad that she was not alone on this mountaintop. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” Lavender said.

Marisol didn’t say anything, and Lavender allowed her own eyes to drift closed. A few seconds passed, and Lavender heard her friend shift. Marisol’s hand closed around one of Lavender’s own.