The Spanish Kidnapping Disaster by Mary Downing Hahn

least animals don't carry guns. And sometimes you can scare them off with rocks.
    Phillip scowled at us. "I'm not scared of wild animals," he said. "And Orlando won't find me this far away. I'll be perfectly safe."
    I bit my lip and considered the situation. If the three of us stayed here, Orlando would find us eventually—alive or dead. We didn't have food or water, and our
clothes weren't warm enough for the night air. How long could we expect to survive?
    Then I realized something else. Turning to Phillip, I said, "But you're the only one who knows Spanish. How will we get help without you? How can we explain who we are or what's happened?"
    "You'll just have to find someone who speaks English," Phillip said.
    "Out here, in the middle of nowhere?" I stared at him. "If you were a Spanish person lost in the mountains of West Virginia, would you expect to find somebody who spoke your language?"
    "I told you to listen to my tape." Phillip sounded a bit more like his ordinary self. "But no, all you two did on the plane was read dumb books and magazines."
    Frowning, he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his little Spanish phrase book. "Here," he said. "Maybe this will help."
    As I took the book, Amy and I stared at each other. Over our heads, the stars shone and a half moon gazed down at us. Never had I felt so helpless.
    "Go on," Phillip said.
    "Are you sure you'll be okay?" I asked him.
    He nodded. "Just get me some stones before you go," he said, "so I'll have something to throw if a bear or a wolf comes along."
    For several minutes, Amy and I gathered stones and silently piled them up around Phillip. When he told us he had enough, I turned away slowly, clutching the book.
    While Amy hesitated, Phillip said, "Will you just go? The sooner you leave, the sooner you'll get some help for me."
    Without saying anything to each other, Amy and I walked down the hillside, leaving Phillip behind. I looked back once, and he waved. The moonlight shining on his glasses made it impossible to tell if he were crying or not. But even if he were, he had a lot more courage than I'd thought.

15

    It was the first time Amy and I had been alone together since the fateful day we'd met Grace in Toledo. Every now and then, as we stumbled down the rough slope, I'd clear my throat, trying to think of something to say, but the words wouldn't come. For some reason, I just couldn't bring myself to apologize.
    Finally Amy broke the silence. "I can't believe this is happening," she said. "It's like a nightmare I can't wake up from."
    Glancing at her, I was amazed at the expression on her face. We were lost on a rocky hillside in the mountains of Spain, but, instead of trying to find a way out, Amy was frowning at me as if I were responsible for the entire situation.
    "Will you quit blaming me?" The wind was cutting right through my tee-shirt and whipping my hair into my eyes. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry!" I was shouting but I didn't care. "You were right. I shouldn't have told Grace all that stuff."
    Amy's hair had fallen out of its barrettes long ago, and the wind had snarled it into a tangled mass. Her face was streaked with dirt and tears, and she was missing one sandal, something I hadn't noticed before.
    "If I ever see Daddy again, I'm going to tell him this was all your fault," Amy said.
    "I don't care what you tell him, you goody-goody little tattletale," I said. "At least Phillip and I got us out of that cave. If we'd stayed there like you wanted to, we'd probably be dead now."
    "Thanks to you, we're probably going to die anyhow." Amy looked back up the mountain as if she were searching for Phillip's hiding place. "I might never see my brother again or Daddy or anybody I care about!"
    When Amy started sobbing, I grabbed her arms and shook her. "Stop it," I said, "stop it! Crying isn't going to get us out of here!"
    She pulled away from me and stumbled backward uphill. "I hate you," Amy screamed, "I loathe and despise you, Felicia