“That’s too bad, because Cabo San Juan is two hours away.” Maddie looks smug as she passes us on the narrow trail. “Maybe you should head back to theparqueentrance and call for a car to take you home.”
“Nobody’s going home,” I snap at my cousin. “Nico, how many beaches will we pass on the way to Cabo?”
“Two,” he says as he holds back a protruding branch for Penelope.
“You’ll be fine,” I tell Neda.
Ryan hangs back to walk on her other side. “By the time your feet get sore, we’ll be at Piscine beach, and you can jump into the water to cool off. And if your sandals can’t hack it, there will be a piggyback ride in your future.” His smile mollifies her, and she picks up her pace.
“I’m taking you everywhere I go from now on,” I whisper to Ryan as I step over a muddy patch in the trail.
“Because I’m willing to give Neda a piggyback ride?”
“Yes.” But mostly because Ryan is my most valuableasset out here where I can’t just send Maddie and Neda—or Holden and Nico—into separate corners.
“She’s just feeling lost,” he says. “I’ve been there, and I wouldn’t have made it through without friends and family.”
All I did was pick out the rehab facility. My dad paid for it, and Maddie convinced him to go, but ultimately, Ryan took control of his own future.
Heisa Valencia.
By the last leg of our hike, Neda is squealing constantly, convinced that every vine is a snake and that within each shadow lurks a crouching jungle cat. Holden doesn’t complain much, but every root he has to step over and vine he has to push aside deepens his scowl.
When the rest of us have to wade through a shallow stream, Penelope makes a show of crossing it on a narrow fallen log—walking on her hands.
If I didn’t love her, I would totally hate her.
I am ready to feed them all to jungle predators by the time we finally arrive at Cabo San Juan, the best beach in the national park for swimming, surfing, and snorkeling.
As soon as we step onto the beach, I drop my bag and take off my boots so I can curl my toes in the sand. I breathe deeply, taking in the salt-scent of the air and the bright Caribbean sunshine. The waves here are gentle, and a couple dozen people are waist deep in them, throwing Frisbees and dunking each other.
With one glance at the water, Neda seems to have forgotten everything she hates about hiking. “It’s beautiful,”she says when she’s caught her breath, and I nod.
“This is why we’re here.”
Suddenly, everyone’s smiling. Clothes land on the sand as we strip to our swimsuits, showing off tan, firm bodies sculpted by Olympic coaches, world-class personal trainers, or years on the soccer field.
Naturally, people stare at us. Neda and Holden pretend not to notice, but I can see discomfort melt from their postures as they register the admiration of the small crowd.
Maddie hangs back, still fully dressed, obviously trying to establish a distinction between herself and the rest of us. As if she were actually in danger of being mistaken for a world-class athlete or a fashion-forward trendsetter.
I turn to thank Nico for bringing us to this exotic paradise, but he’s already fifty feet down the beach, talking to three of the half dozen patrolling soldiers. Like those who searched us for drugs and alcohol when we entered the park, they obviously know him. But they don’t seem happy with him.
Nico is gesturing angrily. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but when he sees me watching, he cuts the argument off. He’s smiling as he rejoins our group, but his shoulders are tense.
As two of the soldiers strike off down the beach, I realize the third isn’t a soldier at all. He’s the guy Maddie made out with on the dance floor last night, in Cartagena. Sebastián.
What the hell is he doing at Cabo?
86 HOURS EARLIER
MADDIE
The waves are fierce and foaming as they crash over the rocks, as if the Caribbean is Mother Nature’s heart and the waves are its beating. Regardless of the advantages I’ve missed, not being born to the wealthy Valencia brother, this is the only privilege that matters.
“Hey, Ryan, wanna hit the—” I turn, expecting to find my brother waiting for me, ready to dive into the water. Instead, I find him on a wide stretch of grass between the sand and the jungle, surrounded by tents. He’s kneeling in the dirt, using a hand pump to inflate a pretty stranger’s small air mattress while she expertly negotiates the arched poles and canvas of a bright yellow tent.
“Wanna hit the water?” I drop onto the sand next to my brother.
