Crash by Wylie Ender

Author:Wylie Ender
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ABDO
Published: 2017-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

THE SUN IS DIRECTLY OVERHEAD WHEN MAX comes to get me. I hear her approaching and know that I must look ridiculous, sitting on the ground with my arms and legs tucked up inside the shirt. I’ve pulled the collar a bit over my head in an attempt to keep my already pink skin from burning. I’m desperately thirsty and painfully hungry but I refuse to move from my vigil. Any second now, rescue will be coming, I know it.

“It’s me,” Max calls. I hear her footsteps come closer. “Thought you might be hungry. And thirsty. Here.”

The promise of food and water has my arms shooting out of my sleeves. I accept the offerings from her eagerly and swallow two big gulps of water before forcing myself to set it aside. The pretzels go fast, though—both bags that she’s brought me.

“Seen anything?” Max asks. She slides down next to me. She’s got a clean top on over her makeshift bandages, and it’s long-sleeved.

The curl of fear and panic that I’ve been trying to ignore rises in my stomach. “No. But that doesn’t mean they won’t show up.” I take another sip of water, letting it wash over my parched tongue and soothe my aching throat.

Max is silent for a long moment, slowly drinking her own water. Finally she says, “It’s funny but I should be at my mom’s house right now. Watching Ellen or whatever while she’s out drinking. God, I hate my mom but I wish I was there right now. Or back with my dad. Anywhere but stuck in this desert.”

“Oh,” I say. What was I supposed to say? What do you say to someone who’s just good as told you that their mom is an alcoholic? “So, um, your parents are divorced?”

“Never married,” Max says. “Thought nothing would mess me up as bad as that. Guess I was wrong, huh?” She laughs without humor.

“Yeah,” I say. “I guess being in a plane crash takes the cake.” I draw a treble clef in the dirt.

“I heard you tell Travis that you were heading home from a competition,” Max says. “What type of music do you play?”

“Classical.”

Max’s eyebrows go way up. “They have competitions for that? Why? I thought you guys just played in a band or something.”

“Yeah, competitions suck.” I turn my head so I can rest my cheek on my knees. “It used to really get to me but . . . it seems sort of stupid now. I mean, we’re in a desert and Mr. Wilkins is hurt and all I can think of is how I flubbed the key change.”

“It’s your life,” Max says. “It’s not stupid. I mean, I’m more upset that my mom’s probably called my dad by now than actually being stuck out here. I hate it when they talk. It just makes Dad angry.”

I think about my parents. I realize that they know I’m missing right now. They’ll be beside themselves with worry, not thinking about how I did at the competition at all.

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