PROLOGUE
Fourteen years ago
Javi Saldivar was probablythe only student on the bus this morning who was happy to go to school. Anything to get out of the single-wide trailer he shared with his mom. He loved being with his friends, loved his classes because he knew school was the only thing that was going to get him out of this godforsaken town, school was the only way he was going to earn enough money to give his mother the home she deserved. Never mind she’d be nearly forty by the time she would have it.
He wasn’t sure what his career would be, yet. Something that made a lot of money. Maybe IT, or finance. He had to say neither of those held much appeal, but paying his mom back for all she sacrificed for him definitely would be worth a career that offered a good salary. His counselor, Mrs. Jaramillo, promised she’d help him look for something that suited him, and satisfied his desire to help his mom.
He was grateful Caleb Pearson wasn’t riding the bus today. Probably he drove to school with some of his friends, which meant at least Javi would have a peaceful morning without Caleb’s snide remarks or casual violence. Javi didn’t even mind the rain as long as he was on the bus with Austin and his friends. And Con McKay was riding this month, too, since he’d been grounded from driving his new truck. Con was always kind to the younger boys, though he was cooler and richer.
But now the bus was swinging toward Con’s girlfriend Britt’s house, and Con was already craning his neck to look for her.
Javi turned in his seat to talk to Austin, but his friend seemed a bit distracted, his gaze unfocused. Instead of interrupting Austin’s daydream, Javi let his own gaze drift to Britt and Con as they snuggled together, not because he liked her or anything, but because, well. He was Javi, everybody’s friend, no one’s boyfriend.
Javi wasn’t lonely, but he was longing.
The sudden braking of the bus had him sliding forward, and he braced his hand against the seat in front of him. Once he stopped his momentum, he twisted to look toward the front of the bus.
Mrs. Driscoll, the bus driver and Austin’s mom, had gone completely tense, her attention on the road ahead of her. Javi saw some of the other riders become aware too, just before the back of the bus whipped around, causing one of the girls behind him to scream.
Javi caught onto the seat in front of him but couldn’t hold himself in place as the bus swiveled, now perpendicular to the road. Behind the wheel, Mrs. Driscoll was frantically trying to spin the steering wheel and get the vehicle back on the road, but the water was pushing against the bus, and…
“Hey!” He stood and motioned frantically toward the doors, where water was pushing through the rubber seals. “Hey, the water’s coming in the bus! Hey!”
Everyone was loud then, panicked. Ee was struggling to his feet, trying to put his backpack on to make sure his books and supplies and his inhaler stayed out of the water, stayed safe. They were going to evacuate, right? The engine was going to die. It may have, already. He couldn’t tell over the pounding rain and rushing water. They weren’t getting to school, not in this vehicle anyway.
But as he tried to stand up, the weight of his backpack threw him off balance. No, not the backpack. The bus was tilting, and before he could shed the heavy canvas bag, the bus dropped onto its side.
Because he’d been standing, he slammed against the metal frame of the window, now below him, and literally saw stars. When he drew in a breath to shout, his mouth filled with water. The dirty liquid gagged him, but when he tried to spit it out, he swallowed instead. He couldn’t expel it, couldn’t cough, couldn’t do anything because he was underwater, his body above him, pressing down so he couldn’t push himself above the surface.
He was going to drown, here in the bus. He couldn’t get his head above the water. His entire body was pressing down on his neck, and he didn’t have enough space between the bus seats to turn himself around.
Suddenly, he felt hands tugging at him. He surfaced, gasping for breath, to look at Britt and Con, who had pulled him up. They didn’t linger for thanks, instead moving toward the door that was open on the side—the top of the bus. He saw Austin being lifted out—he didn’t know who was out there, pulling people out. Cops maybe? But how had they gotten here so fast? He couldn’t have been below the water that long. Then Con climbed on the seats and lifted himself out before he reached back for Britt.
Javi looked up at the opening. Austin and Con waved at him to climb up, to let them pull him out.
The rain was falling into the bus. Both of them had their hair and clothes plastered to their heads. Behind them, the sky was still black and angry.
Javi hesitated. He was fat and uncoordinated. Con and another athlete might be able to pull him up, but Con and Austin wouldn’t have the combined strength. Javi’s option, though, was to drown, and he was terrified of that, so he peeled off his backpack—the saturated straps clinging to his wet shirt—and let it drop into the the muddy water. He did his best to boost himself up on the seat and lift his hands toward Con and Austin.
He felt the strain in his arms, in his shoulders, down his back as they pulled, and he didn’t have enough leverage or upper body strength to help them, just had to remain helpless as they struggled, as Sofia pushed him from behind.
He should have let her go first, should have let the girls at the back of the bus go first, shouldn’t be taking so much time, because that was something they were running out of.
Finally, finally, he was able to use his elbows to heave himself up onto the side of the bus. Shaking, he knelt and rested his hands on his thighs, trying to catch his breath. Austin stuck his head back in to shout for his mother, then, as soon as they pulled Sofia out, Austin disappeared into the bus. The water was swirling around the vehicle, and Javi could no longer see the road they’d been on just moments ago. Were the floating or resting flat in the gully? He couldn’t tell.
And then the bus did a pivot, and before Javi could think of trying to find a hand-hold, he was tossed into the water, and dropped below the surface.
He didn’t know how to swim. His mom was so overprotective, she’d never let him to go the motel when he was a kid, to swim with Sofia and the others, and so he had never learned.
The water couldn’t be that deep, right? The rain had been coming down hard all night, but the water couldn’t be that deep. This was West Texas. But he couldn’t find the bottom, a task made harder by the fact that the water was rushing and churning, and he couldn’t get his bearings.
He struggled to keep his head above water, thrashing more than paddling, trying to find the bank, though even if he found it, would he have the strength to climb out? He was picturing it in his head. The gully was wide, carved out by other storms like this one, but he couldn’t remember how steep. Would he have the strength to pull himself out? He barely had the strength to keep his head above water.
Where was everyone else? Where was the bus? Had everyone else drowned? He didn’t see anyone, didn’t see anything but the relentless brown water, the dark clouds and the heavy rain.
The sun should be up soon, right? But would it matter with the storm? Would he be able to see anything?
He had to stay alive. He couldn’t drown. His mother would be devastated. He couldn’t do that to her. His father had left her. He couldn’t leave her, too. He had to fight.
