1

The day of the disaster, Tyler Manning couldn’t believe he had screwed up so badly. He leaned over and rested his forehead against the seatback. He clutched his cell phone in his hand, trying to focus on the maze game he’d downloaded the week before. Usually he could finish a level within a few minutes, but today he just wasn’t thinking clearly.

The school bus lurched, jolting Tyler backward and forward so his head smacked on the seat in front of him. He dropped his phone. It skidded up the floor, crashing into the pair of feet in front of him.

“Hey!” Sha’relle snapped, pulling off her headphones. Sha’relle’s music was playing so loud that even in the seat behind her Tyler could hear it was Beyoncé.

“Yeah, watch it,” her seatmate Daniela said, glaring back at Tyler.

“Sorry.” Tyler rubbed his forehead where he had smacked it on the seat. He felt around on the floor until he found his phone.

His phone had lost service once the bus had gotten far enough into the middle of nowhere. Tyler wished he had some music saved on his phone since he could no longer connect to his streaming app, but normally he wouldn’t have needed it because he and Ethan would have been talking the whole way home. That’s what they did for the past speech-team events they’d gone to this year.

Instead Ethan sat two rows back with L.J., who was in the spot Tyler had occupied on the way to the state tournament—right across the aisle from where Julia Evans sat. Since they left the tournament, Ethan had acted as if he didn’t even know Tyler.

The panels of the bus’s front door were rattling. The way they rattled, one side had to be loose. Tyler wondered if the school district saved the rundown buses for these Saturday speech tournaments.

The bus rumbled down Interstate 10 through the Arizona desert. The trip back to Phoenix was a torturous hour and forty-five minutes. Normally, that didn’t seem far, but today it felt like the longest ride ever—and they were only halfway there. Through his window, Tyler saw endless acacia trees, buckthorn, desert willow trees, and deer grass. On the way to Tucson, Tyler’s teammates had been all fired up, goofing around and practicing speeches for their events. But no one had that energy anymore after losing at State.

With a sudden popping sound, the bus sputtered and lurched and slowed down. The driver struggled to pull over to the side of the road.

“Why are we stopping?” Sha’relle asked, kneeling up on her seat.

“Probably ran out of gas,” José said. Other students leaned up in their seats to get a better look. The noise inside the bus grew as they began chattering about what they thought the problem might be.

Tyler spotted smoke escaping from under the front of the bus.

The bus driver reached down from his seat, pulled a latch, and popped the hood. He whispered something to their speech-team coach, Mr. Dwyer, who then stood in the aisle and faced the team. The loose door shuddered as the driver opened it.

“Everyone calm down. The driver needs to check something under the hood. We should be back on the road shortly.” Mr. Dwyer adjusted his baseball cap and scratched his beard. Tyler frowned. Their coach usually wasn’t a fidgety guy. He hadn’t even seemed this anxious at their tournament earlier that day. Something seemed seriously wrong.

“We can’t get stuck here. I have plans tonight,” Sha’relle said.

“Yeah,” Daniela piped up. “Me, too.”

“Take your seats, everyone. Just give us five minutes while we figure this out,” Mr. Dwyer replied.

Sha’relle finally sat down.

Mr. Dwyer swung around the front handrail and met the bus driver outside. He continued his beard-scratching and cap-adjusting as he spoke with the driver and pointed under the hood. The driver waved his arms and wiped sweat off his brow. That dude sweats a lot, Tyler thought to himself.

A wind picked up and blew Mr. Dwyer’s baseball cap right off his head and he ran after it. Whenever he got close to the cap, it lifted off the ground and traveled another five feet away. José and Kevin pointed from their seats and laughed. It did look like a comedy skit, but it was weird to see their coach so out of it. He was usually a pretty calm, thought-out guy—it was one of the reasons Mr. Dwyer was one of Tyler’s favorite teachers.

Mr. Dwyer crouched down and finally caught his hat.

Smoke continued rolling out from under the hood of the bus—that couldn’t be good. The wind blew the smoke sideways. Tyler watched as the bus driver stepped away from the hood and slammed it closed. The driver tore off his own hat and threw it on the ground in a fit. Almost immediately, his eyes looked over to the bus. By the way the man’s gaze drifted along a number of the windows, Tyler figured he wasn’t the only student who’d seen the driver do that. Several people were now leaning against the windows to see what was happening outside. The driver sheepishly glanced around and picked up his hat.

“Yep, we’re stalled,” Sha’relle said.

“Not just stalled,” Kevin corrected. “This bus has broken down.”

Tyler looked down the road in both directions. They were in the middle of the desert, alone on the side of the road, with no towns in sight.

“Aw, man!” said L.J. “I wanted to be home to watch the Sun Devils. ASU is in the playoffs!”

Mr. Dwyer climbed back onto the bus. A moment later, the bus driver clambered up the steps and whispered something to Mr. Dwyer again.

“All right, everyone, listen up,” Mr. Dwyer said. “The bus has broken down.”

Groans.

“Told you,” Kevin said to anyone who would listen.

“I know. I’m not happy about it either,” Mr. Dwyer said. “The bus driver is calling for a replacement. Just sit tight until it arrives. Shouldn’t be long.”

The bus driver picked up the two-way radio hand piece, which crackled with static. “Hello? Hello?” He looked up for a second to see if anyone was watching. Pretty much everyone was watching.

What would Dad do? Tyler wondered. His dad was horrible with cars. He would probably call Triple-A. Tyler checked his phone again—still no bars.

Tyler looked out the window. That’s just great, he thought. Let’s make this horrible ride home even longer. A clump of tumbleweed rolled by, much faster than ones he had seen earlier. Beyond the tumbleweed, clouds formed as if nighttime was approaching, but it was only mid-afternoon. The surrounding sky grew darker. Tyler studied the clouds again. They looked like a haze of gathering dust.