The sun sets during the final stretch of the hike up the foothills. We’ve connected up to a major trail with official park signs informing distances to several nearby attractions. Condor Peak is outside King’s Forest in a state-maintained area. There are several scenic points on and around the mountain, but the one we’re headed to, the Northern Viewpoint, is right in front of us, point-five kilometers. The star party is gathered at a small campground below it, just across a road that borders the national park.
An actual road. With actual cars whizzing down it.
I never thought I’d be reluctant to return to civilization.
All my misgivings move to the back of my mind when we spy a big sign for the star party posted at the entrance to a parking lot connected to a small campground. The sign warns the public that they are approaching a protected Dark Sky area, and nothing but red lights are allowed past the campground, to avoid light pollution. The actual viewing area is a quarter mile up a short path that curves around the mountain. Even small amounts of white light are objectionable to astronomers, and many of the cars and RVs here have red tape adhered to their headlights. I’m prepared for this, and have brought along a small red penlight.
“Whoa,” Lennon says. “Lots of people. This is a big viewing party, huh?”
Bigger than I expected. “Maybe we should see if Avani is down here before we go up to the viewing area. The meteors won’t be fully visible for another half hour, at least, so we still have some time.”
We walk through the parking lot, and it’s jammed with cars. Overflow is parking on the side of the road. People are hauling telescope cases out of their cars—some professional, some not. Several families are here with small children. I try to spot anyone from my club, but it’s dark, and the lot is chaotic.
A cedar split-rail fence divides the parking lot and campground. It’s half the size of the one we stayed in three nights ago, and the individual campsites are all crammed together. It seems to be mostly RVs. A sign we pass as we enter says that it’s at capacity.
We walk along the main road circling through the campground, and get only halfway around when someone comes barreling toward us, arms waving.
“Zorie!” It’s Avani, and she slows just in time to throw her arms around my neck. “You’re alive.”
“Of course I’m alive,” I say. “Sorry we’re a day late.”
Avani pulls away to blink at Lennon with wide eyes. “Whoa. You’re really here. I mean, hey, Lennon. It’s just weird to see you together again. But good!”
“It’s good to see you too,” Lennon says, mouth quirking up. He gives her a quick hug, and I’m reminded that they’ve spent more time interacting at school over the last year than I have with either one of them.
Avani is breathless, glancing back and forth between us. When she catches her breath, her brow furrows. “Look, I’m so, so sorry.”
I squint at her. “About what?”
“I didn’t have a choice. I never would have said anything, but he insisted.”
What is she talking about?
“It’s bad,” she says, face twisting. “I feel like it’s all my fault.”
“Slow down and tell us what happened,” Lennon says.
Avani glances over her shoulder. “From what I’ve been told, Reagan’s mom called your mom, Zorie. And that’s how it all started.”
Oh, God. No, no, no . . .
“Reagan’s dad got sick,” she says, “and they couldn’t fly to Switzerland, and then apparently Reagan came home with Brett, and she was supposed to be at that glamping thing with you. But you guys got kicked out?”
My stomach is turning to stone.
“It was Brett’s fault,” Lennon says.
“Oh,” she says, distracted for a moment before shaking her head. “So, anyway, your dad called Dr. Viramontes yesterday, looking for you.”
“What?” I say, alarmed.
She nods. “Your dad was really upset, and he said he and your mom had tried to get in touch with you, but you weren’t answering texts—”
“Our phones died,” I argue, but all I’m thinking about is that phone conversation with Mom at the ranger station three days ago. She knew!
“—and I guess the last time your mom had heard from you, you told her you’d be here at the star party yesterday, so he was freaking out. And Dr. Viramontes asked me if I knew anything, because your dad was going to call the police and file a missing persons report. And so . . .” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I told him what you texted me a couple days ago. That you were hiking here with Lennon. That you were supposed to arrive yesterday.”
“Oh, God,” I mumble.
“Dr. Viramontes called your dad back and told him. And he assured your dad that we would call when you guys got here. But you didn’t show up last night—”
“We were just running late!” I say, exasperated.
She nods, glancing at Lennon, who is biting out filthy curses under his breath.
“What happened?” I ask.
“I just overheard a few things,” she says. “Your dad is loud when he’s angry. He was saying stuff about the Mackenzies, and how they allowed Lennon to kidnap you.”
“What?” I say, pressing my hands against my temples.
“And I tried to butt in and defend you, Lennon,” she says, glancing over her shoulder again. “But Mr. Everhart is . . . well, he yelled at me, and accused me of aiding and abetting—”
“Oh, for the love of Pete,” I say. “Wait, wait, wait. You said you overheard . . . you said he yelled at you. On the phone?”
Avani bites her lip and shakes her head. “I’m so sorry, Zorie. I texted and called to warn you a couple hours ago, but you didn’t answer.”
And that’s when I look in the direction she’s been glancing. The door to an RV swings open, and three people file outside. Dr. Viramontes is the first. And behind him are my parents.
25
“Zorie!” my mom shouts from across the campsite, relief
