Lavender knew they were both remembering that summer in third grade when they hunted scorpions at the park with a black light almost every night. Marisol always won. Lavender hated scorpions. She’d only gone along with it because back then Marisol had wanted to be an entomologist and Lavender hadn’t wanted anyone to know she was terrified of them. Of course, all of that was before Marisol started changing. But even if some things were different, you couldn’t erase the kind of history that Lavender and Marisol shared—all the years of school lunches and field trips and sleepovers and birthday parties.
“This will have to be good enough,” John said. He knelt in the dirt, and then, slowly, he crawled halfway into the nook between rocks.
“Be careful,” Rachelle said.
“Don’t worry. There’s nothing in—” John broke off midsentence. “Aaarrggghhh! Get it away, get it away.”
Screaming, he scrambled backward from the cave, tripped over Lavender’s feet, and landed on his butt.
“What is it? There’s a rattlesnake, isn’t there?” Rachelle shrieked, dancing back.
Lavender wanted to be brave, but her feet wouldn’t cooperate. She was inching away without meaning to.
“It’s not a snake,” John gasped. “There’s some kind of—some kind of—”
“Some kind of what?” Marisol crouched and looked as tightly wound as the others—ready to sprint for safety at the first hint of a rattle.
“Bug.” John finally got the last word out.
“Oh.” The tension drained right out of Marisol. Big dogs, coyotes, and flash floods might give Marisol the jitters, but Lavender had never seen a bug that could faze her friend. “What kind?”
“How should I know?” John asked. “But it’s the size of a house.” John still hadn’t moved from his spot near Lavender’s feet.
“Do you think it’s venomous?” Lavender asked him.
“Anything that big has to be dangerous.”
“Oh, give me that.” Marisol swiped the flashlight from John. “I’ll check.”
Lavender watched proudly. She and Marisol had become best friends during career week in second grade. They were the only two kids in the whole class who had wanted to be scientists. Though Lavender had never been particularly interested in biology. She was much more into physical sciences and things like astronomy or electronics.
Marisol wedged herself in the crevice between the rocks. They were silent, waiting to hear what she would say. John flinched when Marisol’s voice finally echoed out from between the rocks.
“Wow! I’ve never seen one of these in real life before.”
“What is it?” Lavender leaned over John, both curious and nervous. Lavender told herself that she wasn’t scared of bugs; she just had a healthy respect for their personal space.
“It’s a Jerusalem cricket.” Marisol scooted out of the tiny cave, holding one palm flat. When she stood up and shone the flashlight on it, John started moving backward in a demented crabwalk and Rachelle gave a short, shrill scream.
Revolted, Lavender examined the creature on Marisol’s open palm. John was wrong: The thing was smaller than a house. But it still was a good three or four inches long. And hideous. If a scorpion, a cricket, and a bumblebee had an alien baby with a human head, it would look exactly like the abomination Marisol held so calmly.
Lavender forced herself not to shriek or jump back. She wanted to prove herself to Marisol, who seemed to have momentarily forgotten that she was fighting with Lavender. So with her fingernails digging into her palms, Lavender said calmly, “Do you think we can eat it?”
Rachelle gave another little shriek, crying out, “You’re disgusting!”
“What? They’re a good source of protein. Haven’t you ever seen Bear Grylls?” said Lavender. “I’m hungry—aren’t you?”
“I’d have to be a lot hungrier to even think about eating that thing,” Rachelle said.
“Don’t worry,” Marisol told the bug, shielding it from Lavender. “I won’t let anyone eat you.”
John snorted. “That thing can take care of itself.” He was still crouched on the ground, giving both Marisol and the monster cricket the stink eye.
“Well,” Marisol admitted, “I have heard they can bite pretty hard if you mess with them, but they’re really good bugs. They’re not poisonous. They eat dead things and help keep the land clean.”
“Sick. That’s just sick.” Rachelle’s eyes shut tight, and she shook her head. “Will you put that down somewhere so we can get on with it?”
Marisol shrugged and walked a few steps away from the others before coaxing the monster onto the ground near a little shrub. “Go on, little niña de la tierra,” she said.
“Hurry up,” Rachelle ordered. “It’s getting cold out here.”
Mrs. Henderson had warned them that the temperatures at night in the spring could drop into the forties or even the upper thirties. Before the trip, the teacher had checked that every student had an appropriate jacket or coat, but no one had thought to bring a coat on the hike—not in the middle of the day, when it was a sunny eighty degrees.
Well, no one except John.
As Marisol finished up with her demon bug, John reached into his backpack. He pulled out a black jacket and offered it to Rachelle. “I’ve got my hoodie, so you can wear this if you’re cold,” he said.
Lavender pictured her own coat, folded in her duffel bag in the tent at camp. It had never occurred to her that she might not be back in time to wear it. Lavender expected Rachelle to thrust her arms into John’s coat and claim it for the rest of the evening. But Rachelle did neither of those things.
“Wow, thanks,” Rachelle said. “What else do you have in your backpack? It’s almost like you were planning to spend the night out here.”
“Not exactly,” John said.
“Do you have anything else we can use?” Rachelle asked.
“What about food?” Lavender added, not wanting Rachelle to get first dibs on whatever else John might have in his bag. Shivering slightly, Lavender couldn’t quite tear her eyes away from the coat. She wished Rachelle would just put it on already or offer it to her if she wasn’t going to wear it.
“I’ve got enough protein bars for us each to have one,” John answered.
“Why didn’t you say so before?” said Rachelle. “I’ve been starving for hours.”
John shrugged.
“Protein bars? Can I have one?” Marisol asked, rejoining the group.
“Let’s wait a moment,” said Rachelle. “If the cave is bug-free, we can climb in the rocks, take turns sharing John’s jacket, and eat dinner.”
Lavender didn’t know if she was impressed or annoyed. Rachelle was so bossy. Lavender hated that, but at least Rachelle wanted to share. That was the last thing Lavender had expected.
“I guess so,” John said with another shrug. He took the flashlight back from Marisol and did a final sweep of the cave. “I don’t see anything else in here.”
“Did you check for black widows?” Rachelle said.
“I’ll look,” Marisol offered, and Lavender just knew that she was hoping to find a second Jerusalem cricket or some other equally exciting specimen.
“Thanks,” said Rachelle. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to sit down while you guys get the shelter set up. These shoes are really hurting my feet.”
What did Rachelle expect? You didn’t have to be an outdoor expert to know that hiking in brand-new shoes was a huge mistake.
Marisol’s voice echoed from inside the rocks: “I’ve got something.” And suddenly Lavender no longer wanted to be hanging out at the edge of the rocks … just in case some six-legged monstrosity made a beeline for her. She would stand with Rachelle. No, behind Rachelle. Human bug shield.
But as she made her way over to Rachelle, Lavender couldn’t believe her eyes. Even in the dim light of late evening, Lavender could clearly see what Rachelle was doing. She had taken off one shoe and was slowly dribbling her water over both her bare
foot and the sneaker. She had a bundle of pine needles in one hand.
“You can’t waste water like that!” Lavender snapped.
Rachelle paused and looked up. Caught red-handed. “It’s not a waste.”
“It is if you’re using it cleaning your stupid new shoes.”
“I’m cleaning my blister, too.”
Rachelle had no respect for the desert. She hadn’t lived in Arizona as long as Lavender. She didn’t understand how important water was in a place where it was so scarce. Later, Lavender realized that if she’d just stayed calm and explained, things probably would have been all right. But as all the stress and fear of the day overwhelmed her, Lavender lost her last shred of patience.
“Stop wasting it.” Lavender lunged for Rachelle’s Hydro Flask.
Instinctively, Rachelle flinched and knocked over her bottle. Half the water spilled to the ground before she could put it back upright. “Look what you made me do!”
“What I made you do? You’re the one pouring our drinking water on the ground.”
“It’s not our drinking water; it’s mine.”
Marisol joined them, flashlight in hand. “All set.” She paused, shining the light from Lavender to Rachelle to the spill. “Oh no! What happened?”
“Ask her.” Rachelle pointed to Lavender.
“Rachelle spilled it,” said Lavender. “I was trying to stop her from wasting it. She was cleaning her shoes or her feet or whatever with it.”
“Because I don’t want my blister to get infected.”
“Drinking water is more important right now!” Lavender felt like crying. How could Rachelle be so blind to the obvious? Why couldn’t Marisol see through her?
“It’s my water,” Rachelle said. “I can use it how I want to.”
“Stop it! Both of you!” Marisol exploded in a voice that Lavender had never heard her use before. “You just spilled some of our only water, because you can’t get along for more than two seconds. Do you know how pathetic that is?”
“Yes. About as pathetic as using drinking water to wash your feet when you’re lost in the desert,” Lavender said. She was right, Marisol would have to see that.
“That’s not the point,” Marisol said.
“Then what is?” Lavender crossed her arms.
“The point is that we’re kind of in trouble here, and if you don’t learn to just get along with Rachelle, we could all die!” Marisol threw her hands up in a disgusted gesture.
Me? Lavender wanted to shout right back that it wasn’t her fault and that if they died in the middle of the wilderness, it would be because Rachelle led them in circles running from coyotes and wasted their precious water supply. The only thing that stopped Lavender from shouting it back was that … it actually was her fault.
All afternoon, she’d been trying to push down the thought. But here it was.
She’d lied. She’d tricked Rachelle and Marisol into a nonexistent game of sardines. And if any of them ran out of water or went hungry or was hurt or worse, the blame lay with only one person. Her.
Lavender made her way over to sit by John. It was almost completely dark now. The last glow of twilight was fading, and John’s outfit blended into the rocks. As she drew closer, Lavender could see that he was huddled in his red hoodie outside their temporary shelter, sitting in a tight knot, knees drawn up to his chest. He looked as uncomfortable and depressed as Lavender felt.
“You okay?” she asked.
“No,” he said.
“Oh,” she said. “Me either.”
In silence, he handed her a protein bar.
“Thanks,” Lavender said, not bothering to wait until they were in the shelter. She ripped it open and took a small bite. Thrilled as she was to eat something—anything—she didn’t enjoy it. The bars were dense and gritty and fake-tasting.
She picked at it for a few minutes until John said, “Even if you don’t like it, you should try to eat. We all need the calories.”
“Did you eat one?”
He held up an empty wrapper. “Just finished it.”
Lavender grimaced, but she took another bite of the strawberry yogurt protein bar without comment. For a minute, there was only the sound of Lavender chewing, and then she heard a rustle as John pulled the hood over his head. He tugged it down so low that it looked like he wanted it to swallow his face. Was he just chilly, or was he trying to escape her company? It was hard not to take it personally.
“Am I bothering you?” Lavender asked. “Or is something else bugging you?”
“Bugging. Ha,” he said in a muffled voice. “That’s a good one.”
“What? Oh, because of the Jerusalem cricket.” Lavender didn’t even attempt a pity laugh. She was too exhausted and too cold. With a tired sigh, she took another bite of the protein bar. “You’ve been acting weird all day.”
Lavender waited. If anything, he should say something about being lost or hungry or scared of the coyotes. Other than Rachelle, those were the things upsetting Lavender.
Instead, out of nowhere, John answered, “I just really don’t like fighting.”
“What?”
“I wish you and Rachelle wouldn’t argue so much.”
Lavender straightened her back, offended. “She was fighting with me. Rachelle started it. She always starts it. Like just now, she was actually using her drinking water to clean a blister on her foot. She’s lived here over a year now. Can you believe she was wasting water like that?”
Lavender paused, waiting for John to chime in, as full of indignation as she was, but when she glanced at him, his head was bent, and Lavender got the impression that he was staring determinedly at his feet.
So? She didn’t get along with Rachelle. It wasn’t a crime.
Their conversation was interrupted by a beam of light as Marisol and Rachelle materialized beside them.
“We found a good spot for a bathroom over there.” Marisol waved her hand toward a clump of bushes a few yards away. “Anyone want a turn with the flashlight before we go in the shelter?”
“I do,” Lavender said. Marisol handed her the light, and Lavender grabbed the toilet paper from her backpack and went to squat behind the thick wall of branches. Away from the chatter of the others, Lavender started to feel very alone. She looked up to the night sky, where thousands of stars were shining. Normally, she would be thrilled to see so many, but just now, it made her feel very small and insignificant.
A branch near Lavender’s right ankle shifted, causing her heart rate to double. Anything could be in the bushes with her. The litany of wild animals Mr. Bob had listed raced through Lavender’s mind. She yanked her pants up and skittered back to the others, shivering from the temperature … and the terrible feeling that a rattlesnake was going to sink its fangs into her ankle at any second.
“Let’s get in the shelter,” she said, practically running up to the trio. “Being out here at night is giving me the creeps.”
“After you.” Rachelle gestured.
Of course, Rachelle wouldn’t want to go in first, in case there were any venomous spiders or scorpions they’d missed. But Lavender trusted Marisol completely. There wasn’t a bug on the planet that would have escaped her attention.
Lavender crawled in, taking the flashlight with her, and the other three followed. Even with all four of them smashed together in the tiny space, there wasn’t enough of John’s jacket to go around. Still, it was better than nothing; the temperature was somewhat bearable with the body heat of four people in a small space. Lavender wasn’t exactly warm … but she was less cold than before. And less scared. At least in here she felt in control of their surroundings.
The tiny cave was crowded, uncomfortable, and unnaturally quiet as Marisol and Rachelle ate their protein bars. Like they were afraid to talk about anything for fear of breaking into another fight.
As the others drifted off to sleep, Lavender stared at the ground and listened. She lived on a quiet street in the Phoenix suburbs. She was used to th
e sound of a distant dog barking, the thrum of passing cars, an occasional cricket, and the white noise of her ceiling fan.
She was not used to the sound of her classmates breathing and kicking and shifting around, and she was definitely not used to the sound of the mountains. Every breeze set off a cacophony of shifting branches, and every movement outside their cave set her heart racing. Chiricahua was home to bears, mountain lions, javelinas, coyotes, and a hundred other animals. As Lavender willed herself to fall asleep, she could not help but wonder what hungry creature might be lurking in the dark. More than once, she could have sworn she heard grunting and snuffling just outside their enclosure, which scared her until she decided that the sounds were probably Rachelle snoring.
In spite of the noise and fear, Lavender fell asleep at some point, because sometime later she jerked awake, shivering. It was still night when her eyes flew open, but less dark than before. The moon must have risen. A beam of milky light now filtered in through the opening of their little cavern. The light glinted off John’s eyes, and Lavender realized that she was not the only one awake.
“Can’t sleep?” he whispered.
“Too cold,” Lavender answered, feeling around for the jacket. In her sleep, Marisol had tugged most of Lavender’s portion off her. Lavender pulled a sleeve of the jacket over her lap, trying to take deep breaths and tell herself that she liked the cold. Her dad always insisted cold wasn’t so bad if you embraced it rather than trying to fight it. It didn’t help.
“I thought it might have been the coyotes,” John said.
As she came more awake, the sound of howling caught Lavender’s attention, and she wondered how she’d possibly been able to sleep before. There had to be dozens of the animals in the hills surrounding their temporary campout.
“Do you think they smell us?” Lavender asked.
“They won’t mess with us,” John said.
Distress Signal Page 6
