back and forth on his bike—sizing up the slope. His eyes narrow for a second, and then he goes for it.
Meanwhile, Rob breathes hard as he forces his bike up the last few yards to the top of a winding path. He’s rewarded with a spectacular view of the city—bathed in the watermelon-colored glow of high desert dusk. Rob grabs his water bottle and drinks it empty. Not giving a crap, he tosses the bottle into the bushes. He lets his breathing settle as he looks back at the path behind him. Justin can be such a freakin’ woman sometimes.
He waits a few moments more. No sign of his buddy. Screw it. Rob heads down the rocky switchback that winds toward the parking area. In a cloud of dust, he rockets down the trail, skids into a perfect turn, and then continues down in the opposite direction.
On a straight section of path, he pumps the pedals, picking up speed, then rattles across a narrow wooden bridge. Behind him, Rob catches a glimpse of something from the corner of his eye.
He glances back, but the trail is empty.
Unnerved, he pedals faster, topping 25 mph downhill. Winding his way through a field of boulders, Rob checks over his shoulder. Could Justin have caught up with him?
He pops over the top of a rise—catches some air and—
WHOMP!
Rob is gone.
Like a fly swatted out of the air.
His empty bike crashes to the ground.
2
September 12th. Manzano High School. Albuquerque.
Nicole’s eyes narrow. Involuntarily.
Her pale hair draped across her face offers no protection from the hot sun, but Nicole keeps her shoulders square and her breathing even. Because Coach said stretching was all about breathing.
“Hey!”
A voice. Deep, but not quite confident.
Nicole doesn’t look—doesn’t turn. Breathe.
“You ready for tomorrow?” It’s a boy. Cody-something. Senior. Nicole takes him in through her peripheral vision.
“Yeah, can’t wait.” Nicole’s voice is flat, disinterested.
Cody squats down next to her and begins some awkward stretching of his own.
“Well, I think you’re going to kick ass on hurdles.”
Nicole doesn’t reply. She’s back to her breathing, blocking out Cody’s rambling attempts at flirting.
But then, he shuts up.
She allows herself a quick glance at him. His eyes are fixed on something behind her.
The wind changes direction and then she hears it, too.
The Coach. Yelling at someone.
“Goddammit, Kristen—you can’t just blow off practice whenever you feel like it.”
Even though he’s a good 50 yards away, almost to the goalposts, Nicole can make out every syllable. But, like watching someone talk on the phone, she only hears his side of the conversation.
“Kristen!” he bellows. “You do not walk away from me!”
But she does, because that’s the kind of person Kristen Montoya is. The kind of person who just got her ass kicked off the team.
Good, thinks Nicole. She deserves it.
“What’s up with that?” Cody nods toward the Coach, who is popping one of his baby aspirin.
Nicole looks beyond the Coach to Kristen. “Drama queen.”
3
Kristen Montoya’s eyes burn as she stalks across the field.
Asshole, asshole, asshole.
She pulls up her black hoodie, as if trying to block out the world, then yanks the hood down.
I don’t give a crap who’s looking at me. They can go straight to hell.
As Kristen strides up the walkway that leads to the school’s parking lot, a shadow crosses her path. She glances up automatically and sees the biggest crow she’s ever laid eyes on.
The crow caws, then noisily flaps up on top of a light pole, where it sits and inspects Kristen below.
Don’t you dare take a dump on me. That’s all I need.
But the bird just watches as Kristen scans the parking lot.
Antonio Paradilla feels around for his phone, but then stops.
Crap.
He knows exactly where it is. Plugged into the charger in the laundry room. Right where he left it before jumping in the shower this morning.
Kristen’s late. As usual.
But he can’t call her.
Antonio glances at the car’s clock. 2:49.
I guess she’s not that late.
He sighs and looks down at the passenger seat. Strategically placed on it is a red rose. A birthday rose; a peace offering.
If she ever shows up.
And then, all of a sudden, she’s there—peeking in the door. Eyes big and rimmed with tears.
Kristen snatches up the rose in a single fluid motion as she slumps into the car.
“For me?” she mumbles.
Antonio leans over to kiss her. “What do you think, baby?”
“I don’t know… maybe it’s for your other girlfriend.”
“C’mon, K…”
“Just drive. I want to get as far away from here as I can.”
Antonio starts up his car—a ten-year-old hatchback—and swings toward the back gate of the parking lot. In the distance, the Sandia Mountains loom.
He glances over at Kristen, who is lost in her own cloud of thoughts.
“What is it? Donna Martinez giving you shit again?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just go.”
Antonio knows it’s best not to push her.
After a few blocks of driving in silence, Kristen glances out the car window. They’re on Tramway Boulevard, a major north/south thoroughfare on the far eastern edge of the city.
“We going up to Santa Fe for dinner?”
“Nope.”
“Then what? Antonio, I’m tired…”
“It’s a surprise, baby.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it is.”
Kristen exhales and turns away from Antonio.
“Well, just so you know… I probably got kicked off the team for you.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Freaking coach…”
“What happened?”
“What do you think? He gave me a massive amount of shit for not staying for practice. I’ve never seen him so pissed.”
“It’s your birthday.”
“So? He doesn’t care.”
“Well, he’s an asshole.”
“Uh… yeah.” Kristen bounces the rose against her nose, inhaling its fading fragrance. “He thinks he’s a king. The king of cross country.”
Antonio laughs, picturing Coach Phelps on a throne in the middle of the track.
“Well, don’t let it get you down.”
“Too late for that.”
They pull off the main street onto a narrow road that winds its way through the foothills due east toward the mountains.
Kristen looks around.
“We’re not going to your stupid cousin’s to play Xbox!”
“No—”
“Because you can just let me out here and I’ll walk home.”
“You really are in a mood today, K.”
Kristen doesn’t say anything, because she is. After a few minutes, Antonio breaks the silence.
“Remember that place I told you about? Up the mountain?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Well, we’re going on a little hike. An adventure.”
Antonio pulls up to a booth at the entrance to the Sandia Peak Tramway, one of Albuquerque’s major tourist attractions.
As Antonio pays the attendant, Kristen rolls her eyes. “You are kidding me, right?”
“Just chill. Let the moment take you.”
“This is what we’re doing for my birthday? I thought you were taking me to get my tattoo!”
“We can do that on Saturday.”
Antonio pulls into a space in the mostly empty lot. A Thursda
y in September isn’t the busiest time of year for the Tramway.
Kristen checks her makeup and then exits the car. Behind her is a large structure housing the tram terminal, a restaurant, and gift shop.
“Why don’t we just take the tram instead of this stupid hike?”
“Just wait and see. You’re going to love it. The view from this place is awesome.”
Kristen goes around toward the back of the car, where Antonio stuffs supplies into a daypack.
“Did you bring a blanket?”
“I’ve got everything.”
He smiles at her as he places the last item in his pack: a bottle of “two buck chuck” red wine. Antonio gazes up at the mountains. The weather had been weird all day, and now a thick blanket of clouds hangs near the peak.
He grabs Kristen’s hand and leads her up the trail from the parking lot into the rough, boulder-strewn hills at the base of the mountains.
The tinkle of a small bell sounds as Antonio walks.
“Okay, that’s annoying—” Kristen makes a face.
“What?”
“Ding, ding, ding!” She imitates the sound of the bell.
Antonio fingers the small bell looped on his belt. “It’s common sense, K. You want the animals to hear you coming…”
“Animals?”
“Weren’t you ever a girl scout?”
“No, were you?”
“Ha, ha. Very funny.”
“It is very funny. I can picture you in your little uniform… with pigtails…”
Antonio slaps her bottom playfully, and they dash up the trail.
4
“Give me your phone—” says Antonio, as they relax on a boulder and drink some water.
“No way—where’s yours?”
“I forgot it at home. C’mon, K—”
She hands it over, an older model iPhone in a thick pink rubber case.
Antonio smiles and activates the video camera, narrating as he videos Kristen. “And there she is—the birthday girl!”
“Antonio, stop it!”
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing—just stop it.”
“Are you still thinking about the coach?”
“No…”
“C’mon then. Big smile, K—”
Kristen glares at him. “Antonio, I said to stop it.” She turns away from the camera.
Antonio can tell by her expression that she’s upset.