“Haven’t we already tried this?” Rachelle asked with a little huff.

“Shhhhh,” Lavender ordered. Her stomach was flipping and her hands were shaking worse than ever before. She felt like she might fly into a hundred pieces. Hope was terrifying. She was afraid to explain, afraid to try, afraid of the crushing disappointment if this didn’t work.

“What was in the note?” Marisol asked for the third or fourth time.

“It looks like gibberish to me,” John said. Lavender could feel him leaning over her shoulder to read it.

“It’s everything we need to talk into the repeater,” Lavender said, frantically programming her radio.

“Still gibberish,” Rachelle said.

“My dad gave me the repeater settings so I could talk with him in Phoenix.”

“English, Lavender. Speak English,” Marisol commanded.

They weren’t going to leave her alone until she explained. With a sigh, Lavender tore her eyes from the radio. “A repeater is kind of like an antenna that takes a weak radio signal and boosts it. I haven’t been able to reach anyone with my radio, because it has a small antenna and not a lot of power. Kind of like how John’s phone won’t work, because we don’t have a cell signal. A repeater is just like a cell tower. But a radio repeater will transmit our signal. Even though this radio is small, it will reach a lot farther than a cell phone. My dad told me we could talk through the repeater, but without the right settings, it was hopeless.”

Marisol shook her head. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying”—she took a long breath, trying to steady herself—“I’m saying, we might be saved.”

Rachelle knelt beside Lavender on the ground, clutching her arm. “Are you serious? You think you can, like, actually call someone on that thing. For real this time?”

“I think so.” Lavender nodded and held down the talk button.

Lavender held down the talk button.

Whatever she said would be rebroadcast for everybody to hear. Other radio operators for dozens and dozens of miles would be able to hear her message.

“Help,” she said. The word was dry and cracked. She suddenly had no breath to say the words. Her finger slipped from the talk button.

“Here.” John produced Lavender’s water bottle and handed it to her. She took a few sips. “You’ve got this.”

Calm down, be calm, Lavender coached herself. You outran a flood, escaped from a bear, and climbed a mountain. You can figure this out.

But reaching out and asking for help, it felt like the scariest thing that had happened so far. Because if this didn’t work … if there was no one listening … if she was wrong about the repeater … if she couldn’t contact anyone … this might be the thing that finally broke her beyond repair. To have this much hope and be disappointed. She didn’t think she could recover.

Lavender took a deep breath, held down the talk button, and this time she spoke with more conviction. “This is KG7XAB. I am lost in the Chiricahua Wilderness with three of my classmates. This is an emergency.”

She let go of the talk button, waited, and heard the beep that indicated she had actually contacted the repeater.

Now she just needed someone to be listening. Someone had to be out there. They just had to.

“Mayday, Mayday,” she transmitted again. “Please, please answer me. This is KG7XAB. I am stranded in Chiricahua with my friends. We got separated from our class after a flash flood. We need help. It’s an emergency.”

Only static filled the little radio.

With every second, every crackle, Lavender felt a little piece of her heart start to die.

And then—“This is KB7XWT. I hear your distress.”

Lavender was so startled she dropped her radio. “We’re saved! We’re saved! You guys, we’re saved!” She clapped and jumped around in an impromptu jig that made her head pound. She didn’t even care. This had to be one of the best moments of her life.

“You did it!” John grabbed her shoulders and shook them. “You really did it.”

Rachelle jumped on them in a group hug.

“Come in, come in,” the faint voice crackled over the radio. “This is KB7XWT. Come in.”

“Lavender!” Marisol shouted from her spot on the ground. “Focus. We’re not home yet.”

Lavender, John, and Rachelle broke apart, startled out of their celebration by Marisol’s reality check.

“Is anyone there?” the man’s voice spoke again.

Lavender dove for the radio, scraping her elbows, and mashed down on the transmitter. “Come in, KB7XWT. This is KG7XAB. My name is Lavender. I’m on a mountain in Chiricahua Wilderness. We were at our sixth-grade science campout, and we got separated from the rest of group by a flash flood. Please, please send help.”

“You’re really the missing schoolkids?” he said. “You’ve been all over the news. Folks around here have been awfully scared that you didn’t make it out of that flood, but your dad asked for volunteers to listen to this frequency twenty-four/seven until you were located.”

Lavender’s eyes prickled, thinking of her mom and dad. They never would have quit looking for her, but they might have given up hope that she would be alive when they found her. They would be so happy when they heard she was okay, probably even happier than she was to get away from this mountain … if that was possible.

“Can you tell my parents I’m all right?” Lavender said. “We’re hungry and dirty and injured, but we’re alive. I’ll give you their phone number if you’ll just tell them I’m alive.”

“You’ll tell them yourself, kid. Help is on the way.”