But he’d never been so scared in his life. His terror, and the water he had to keep spitting out of his mouth, kept him out of breath. Since the water kept pushing him, he could never get his bearings.
Where was the bus?
He knew enough to know the bus could be his salvation, or his downfall. If the water was carrying it at a great rate of speed, it might just roll over him, and then where would he be?
Austin had gone back into the bus. Javi didn’t know why he would have gone back. Had he forgotten something? No, he wouldn’t—his mom. His mom was driving the bus. He’d gone back in for his mom.
Had they gotten out again? He didn’t know. Austin was his best friend. He couldn’t lose Austin.
But he couldn’t help his friend. He couldn’t even help himself.
Above the roar of the water, he thought he heard a voice. Crying, shouting, he wasn’t sure, and he turned his head to see a clump of trees in the middle of the gully.
Trees. He could hold onto the trees until help came, couldn’t he? But he couldn’t swim, didn’t know how to direct himself to get to the cluster of green standing out among the brown water. He saw someone there, though, and heard his name. One of the girls, but hard to tell who, since her hair was a wet mess, and it was still so dark out here, and he was still moving, still moving, and now the trees were out of reach, and he was still floating, though the girl—Britt, he thought—was shouting his name.
He slammed into something, hard enough to knock the little breath he had from his lungs, and spun him around so he wasn’t looking at the direction he’d been, but the direction he was going.
Much harder to float this way. The rushing water behind him kept trying to push his head down, and he had to fight to keep it above water. The other way was easier, because he could kind of float and let the water carry him, though the water kept washing into his mouth.
Not enough time had passed, he was sure, for people to be out looking for them. He didn’t know how long ago the bus had gone into the water, but he was sure it was no more than a matter of minutes. It felt like a lifetime. The Conover house was next on the route. Would they report the bus overdue, and people would come looking for them? Who would come?
No, he couldn’t wait. He was going to have to save himself. He was going to have to guide himself to the bank, because the longer he was in the water, the weaker he grew.
Not until the gully curved did he even see the bank. He plowed his hands into the water like he’d seen swimmers on television and movies do, to direct himself in that direction. If he’d thought of it earlier, he might already be out of the water, hanging onto a tree with Britt.
But now, he was cold and exhausted and desperate, and could barely lift his arms out of the water to stroke.
He was wheezing when he slammed into the muddy wall, grasped it, felt it crumble in his hands, grasped it again and pressed his face to it, the water pounding against his back as he worked up the strength to pull himself out before the water carried him off again.
He just couldn’t do it. He wasn’t strong enough. He couldn’t catch his breath, and every time he tried, pain shot through his back. God, had he broken a rib or something? Punctured a lung? Terrified of doing more damage, he kept his breathing shallow, but that made his vision gray. He had to stay conscious until they rescued him. If the water took him, he would drown for sure. He had no endurance left.
Who was going to find him, and when?
He had no idea how long he’d clung to the side of the gully, the water chilling him even though it was already spring, when he heard shouting above him.
“Another one!”
He didn’t even have the strength to look up to see who was pulling him from the water, until he was on the ground at Beck Conover’s feet.
“Javi!” Beck crouched and slapped his cheek. “Javi! You hurt?”
Javi thought about his back and how it hurt to breathe, and nodded, feeling guilty even as he did. Who else was hurt? Who else was out there?
But he wasn’t able to help anyone right now. He was shaking all over and his muscles felt like they’d become part of the water he’d just been pulled from.
The Conovers took him to their house to warm up, along with Poppy and Lacey. The three of them huddled together in the kitchen, wrapped in itchy afghans, under the sharp eye of Mrs. Conover while Beck and his dad went back out to look for the others.
But no more of their friends came to the Conover house, and the road had washed out, so their parents couldn’t get to them. The firefighters had to come and transport them in an inflatable raft across the water, and Javi had to lean over the side to throw up. Not that he was seasick, or whatever, but he never wanted to be near water again.
His mother was waiting for him on the other side of the gully, wringing her hands, wearing her uniform from the taqueria, one of the two jobs she worked, and she rushed forward to embrace him before he was fully standing up on the side of the bank. He winced when she squeezed too tightly and pain shot through him.
“Ay,mijo! I’ve never been so scared in my life. I almost lost you. I almost lost you.”
“Mom, Mom,” he said, wanting to calm her down because he didn’t know who else had survived. Who else might have been lost. He didn’t know. He didn’t know. “Let’s just go home.”
“He needs to go to the hospital first,” said one of the volunteer firefighters, Zack Nazareth. “He has a bad contusion on his back, where he said he hit a rock. Might need to get checked out.”
Javi was already shaking his head as he looked down at his mom. They couldn’t afford a visit to the hospital, even if every breath, and even his mom’s embrace, hurt. What was a doctor going to tell them anyway? That he was bruised?
