The Spanish Kidnapping Disaster by Mary Downing Hahn Page A

Flanagan!"
    "Same here!" I screamed back.
    "I hope my father divorces your mother and I never see you again!"
    "Same here!"
    "If Daddy doesn't get a divorce, I'll go live with my mother!"
    "And I'll go live with my father!"
    Out of breath and shivering in the cold, we glared at each other. Then I turned and ran down the mountain, hoping I was heading toward the road. As far as I was concerned, Amy could stay in the mountains forever. I'd
apologized and look how she'd acted. Just as nasty as ever.
    While I was thinking up insults to hurl at Amy, a rock spun out from under my shoe. Flapping my arms wildly, I tried to keep my balance, but I fell anyway and slid several feet downhill on my side.
    As I crashed into a boulder, Amy called, "I hope you broke your leg! It would serve you right!"
    Ignoring her, I sat up and looked at myself. My jeans were ripped and the skin on my thigh was scraped and raw. Even in the moonlight, I could see blood welling up, black against the whiteness of my flesh. Gritting my teeth, I got to my feet. It hurt, but I could walk.
    As I hobbled along, I heard Amy behind me. Wheeling around, I said, "If you hate me so much, how come you're following me?"
    Amy gave me a fierce look. "Hating you doesn't have anything to do with it!" she yelled. "I'm scared and I'd rather be with you than nobody!"
    Well, I was scared too. In fact, I was just about dead from terror, but I didn't want to admit it to Amy. I stood there, slightly below her on the hillside, listening to my heart thumping hard in my chest. Fighting my desire to throw myself down on the rocks and cry like a baby, I tried to think about our situation sensibly. Here we were, lost in Spain with kidnappers hunting us, and what were we doing? Fighting like little kids.
    Swallowing my pride, I forced myself to say, "Maybe we should quit arguing, Amy, and try to figure out what to do."
    She rubbed her eyes with her fists and stared at me. "Do you know where you're going?"
    "No," I confessed.
    "I didn't think so," she muttered.
    Without looking at each other, we sat down on a rocky outcropping. For a while neither of us spoke. My leg hurt, and I was cold, tired, and hungry—goat stew, porridge, anything would have tasted good at this point. Finally, my stomach growled so loudly Amy looked at me.
    "I've got some cheese crackers," she said. "You can have half." Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a smashed pack and gave me two crackers.
    "I was saving them for Phillip and me," she admitted as I bit into one.
    I shrugged and glanced at her, but the wind was blowing so hard her hair hid her face.
    "I hope he's okay," she said.
    "Me too."
    "He must be hungry though. And cold."
    I nodded, but I didn't look at Amy. What could I say? I was worried about Phillip too. "We'll find somebody to help us," I said after a while.
    Swallowing the last of my crackers, I surveyed the landscape spread out below me. Way off to the right, I thought I saw a cluster of lights. Then very faintly I made out the thin winding line of the road curving around the hills far below.
    Nudging Amy, I said, "I think that's the road."
    Slowly we got to our feet and began climbing down the hillside. Because my leg was stiffening up, I couldn't race
ahead of Amy. By the time we reached the road, I was several yards behind her and limping.
    ***
    After we'd walked for about an hour without seeing a single house, we stopped to rest on a low stone wall. A breeze blew through the olive trees behind us and we shivered.
    "I wonder what time it is," Amy said.
    I squinted at my watch, trying to make out the numbers. "I think it's around midnight."
    "I'm so tired," Amy said. "If only we could sleep for a while."
    "Maybe if we walk a little farther, we'll come to a barn or something," I said.
    I eased myself off the wall, and Amy and I trudged down the road. We passed a field where a herd of sheep slept as still and white as boulders in the moonlight and another field where cows slumbered—or