CHAPTER THIRTEEN
There were no cars on the way back to Brackettville. Not a single one.
Mia had to walk the whole way back, seven miles, in heat that was well over 115 degrees. The sun drifted high into the sky, painting everything a bright white. Without sunglasses, Mia felt like her eyeballs were about to explode with pain. Her head pounded and the sun scalded her shoulders. Ahead of her, the horizon blurred, miles and miles of straight, gently rolling hills, into a hazy oblivion. Vultures cawed above, eagerly waiting to make her their next meal.
Not today, boys, she thought, struggling to put one foot in front of the other.
She drained her water bottle fully during the walk, and by the time she stumbled in past the city limits, her clothes were drenched in sweat.
She threw open the
