MILA WONDERED WHICH WOULD KILL HER FIRST: her body or the coyotes.

    Her feet were lead tied to her ankles, weighing her down. Her pinky toe rubbed painfully against the top of her shoe. Her thighs wobbled beneath her as she walked. She had to fight to keep her eyes open and her head upright. Her head spun with each step. It felt like someone had shoved a rock between each of her vertebrates. Every couple feet, she had to stop and twist herself around to pop it, which only temporarily relieved the pain. It would come right back after another couple steps. She cursed gymnastics and the terrible things it had done to her body.

    But the exhaustion wasn't the worst of it. Her throat was drier than the desert. It hurt to swallow, to breathe. Her lips were already so chapped and bloody it would have been less painful to give herself a Glasgow smile. She had no food or water. And her stomach growled.

The cold, desert air scraped Mila's skin from the bone as she trudged on alone through the dark desert, fuming. Her flashlight cut a watery blue shaft of light through the dark.

Mila stopped to pop her back again. After checking a rock on the side of the road for scorpions and spiders, she gave herself a minute to rest, tucking her legs up beneath her. She almost moaned the second her feet lifted off the hard ground.

She had no idea how long she'd been walking. She'd lost all sense of time. As far as she knew, she could have been walking twenty minutes or twenty years.

    Mila shivered, shrinking down inside her sweatshirt. Even in her heavy sweatshirt, boots, and jeans, the icy desert air still bit through her clothes. Her ears were numb from the cold. She kept rubbing them, scared out of her mind she was going to get frostbite. Was it cold enough for frostbite to set in? Mila had no idea.

Given the dark highway, she wished she had on something brighter or more reflective. She envisioned a car—not that she'd seen any—going ninety on the straight, empty road and slamming into her without ever seeing her, her body tossed among the rocks.

The silence was deafening. Mila'd never been a fan of silence. She hated allowing space for her own thoughts to fester. Out here, there was nothing but silence and the night sky shimmering above her. She'd never seen so many stars before.

The desert had come to life under the cover of darkness. Animals popped out she hadn't known existed before. Sounds whirled in her ears—howls and buzzes and peeps. But all of it was surrounded by the deafening blanket of human silence. It drove Mila mad.

She'd lost all sense of direction. She'd lost all hope. She would die out here—alone and afraid. No one knowing where she was. No one she cared about.

Why did she leave Kalani? Even if she hated her now, it would have been safer to stay together. Mila was so stupid. Stupid or stubborn. She wasn't sure which.

In the distance, a coyote howled.

***

    MILA WALKED ALL NIGHT. Dawn broke, turning the sky a glassy white. As cold as it had been at night, she feared the heat of the day. That had to be a quicker killer than the cold, especially without water. Water. Her body ached for water—it was all-consuming. She was only dimly aware of the hunger.

    She could barely move. With each step, she dragged her feet beneath her. She'd never been so tired. She wanted to give in, take a nap along the side of the desert highway, but she knew she would die if she stopped walking. So she kept moving, pressing onward.

    She was nearing the breaking point. Just as she was about to give up and give in (and do what? Lie here to die? Turn back to Kalani? Surely, the walk back would kill her), a small, decrepit building peeked out of the rocks. Tears sprang to her eyes. Her feet were suddenly weightless. She broke into a run. A gas station canopy rose out front. A sole SUV rested in the sand. The chipped sign read:

Navajo Gas Station

    Mila sneered at the name. She wouldn't normally stop at a place like this, but it was her only hope. Please let this racist gas station be open.

    She rushed to the doors and shoved them. Nothing. She gave them a hard pull. Nope. Lights burned inside. Someone darted back and forth. Someone was in there. Someone was in there.

    Mila pounded on the door. "HELP! Please, please, let me in!" Her voice was raspy, hoarse. Speaking sent waves of pain rolling through her throat.

    A short, plump indigenous woman—ironically, likely Diné herself—with thin gray hair and gorgeous brown, wrinkled skin pulled the door open. She scowled at Mila, her wrinkles making the frown much deeper than she likely intended. "We open in an hour."

    "No." Mila shook her head, shoving herself in the open space between the door and its frame. "No, I'm going to die."

    The woman looked Mila from head to toe. "Come in," she growled like she wasn't happy about it. "What the hell happened to you, kid?"

    Mila threw herself inside. The store didn't have any AC other than a slow-moving fan by the counter, but that was all right. Mila was freezing. It took a weight off her shoulders, being inside again. "I got lost. In the desert. My friend—"

    The woman tsked, shaking her head at Mila. "Go on. Get yourself something to eat and sip on. Take your pick. All-you-can-eat buffet on the house."

    Mila didn't have to be told twice. She rummaged through the snack aisles and refrigerated section, filling her arms with the biggest water bottle the place offered, a cheese Danish, a pack of chili-lime peanuts, a bag of chips, and a box of beef jerky. She met the woman at the front of the store, where she stood watching her every movement, arms crossed over her chest.

    "What's your name, kid?" she asked.

    "Sofía. Do you have somewhere I can sit?"

    "I'm Donna. Follow me."

    Donna led Mila to the break room, where they sat across from each other at a long, white table on plastic folding chairs. Mila gulped down her water and tore through the Danish. As she munched on the peanuts, Donna headed off to get her another water bottle, which Mila drowned half of.

    "How old are ya?" Donna asked. "You don't look old enough to travel by yourself."

    "Nineteen." Mila shoved the peanuts down her throat. She knew she should slow down, that she'd make herself sick eating so much so fast. But she couldn't stop. "I wasn't. I was with my... friend. She stayed back with the car while I went to get help. Can you drive me to her? Or do you know someone who can? She needs a barrel of gas. And a map. Is there any internet here?"

    Donna folded her hands on the table. "I can take you to her in an hour when the store opens. My son's shift starts then. He can man the place. How far back did you leave her?"

    Mila shrugged. She'd finished with the peanuts and pulled open the bag of chips. "Dunno. I was walking all night. She was straight back on Route 66. Where am I? What time is it?"

    "You're in Paperflower, Arizona. Just before six."

    Mila tried to put the pieces together, but she was hit with a sudden wave of exhaustion. With food and water in her system, all her body had to complain about was its tiredness. Her eyes flickered shut, her head nodding forward. She felt like she was looking at the world through a layer of thick molasses. She rubbed her eyes and crossed her arms on the table, resting her head in the center of them.

    "Do you mind if I take a nap while we wait on him?" Mila asked. "I've been walking in the desert all night." Normally, Mila wouldn't trust herself to sleep in public like this, when she was exposed and vulnerable. But she was so, so tired, more tired than she'd ever been in her life. And she trusted Donna to watch over her. With the store shut until six, it would just be the two of them in here, after all.

    Donna reached across the table and patted Mila's forearm. "Go ahead, kid. I'll wake ya when he gets here."

***

    "SOFÍA." Donna gently shook Mila, who snored in the passenger seat, her legs tucked up beneath her and her head against the warm window. "Get up. I found your friend's car."

    Mila sat up, eyes unfocused. She blinked at the world around her. As she stretched in her seat, her back popped. Squinting out the window at the blinding sunlight, she saw Kalani's rental Prius pulled over on the side of the road. Kalani was nowhere in sight. The car seemed abandoned.

    "Gas's in the trunk," Donna said. "I'll get it for ya. You go check on your friend."

    Mila pulled her bags over her shoulder and hopped out of the car, her boots crunching on the packed desert sand. Already the heat had settled into the bones of the desert, and as Mila crossed Route 66 beads of sweat trickled down the back of her neck.

    Kalani was sound asleep in the back seat, curled into a ball in the corner, her blanket wrapped tightly around her. Mila knocked on the car's window. Kalani jumped bolt-upright, her eyes wildly scanning the landscape, her matted hair tangling in her face. When her eyes found Mila, she froze and laughed out loud, rubbing her face with her hands. She tossed the blanket to the side and pushed the door open, stepping out into the bright desert morning. Sleepily, she rubbed her eyes.

    "I didn't think you were coming back for me. You seemed pissed."

    What Mila wanted to say was what you did was unforgivable, but leaving you out stranded in the desert would have been worse. What she wanted to say was what you did was unforgivable, but what I did was worse. Instead, what she said was out of 2012 fake-edgy Tumblr: "I'm always pissed."

Donna lugged a red barrel of gas over and set it on the ground. "We brought gas," she cheerfully said, oblivious to the tension.

Kalani crossed her arms over her chest. "Thanks. You're a life-saver." Half of her hair was matted to the side of her head. A red welt bulged on her cheek from the indents of the car.

"Do you girls need anything else?" Donna asked. "Some more water? Directions?"

Kalani pursed her lips. "Could you give us a minute?"

Donna nodded, smiled, and walked back to her car.

Kalani led Mila a couple feet out into the desert, looking out onto the endless reddish beige landscape.

"I don't blame you if you don't forgive me. I don't forgive you." Kalani wrung her hands together like she was asking Mila to prom. "But I don't want you to hitchhike the rest of the way. It's too dangerous. Let me drive you. You can yell at me the whole way there."

"You don't forgive me?" Mila had already made up her mind. She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'd rather risk it."

Kalani pinched the bridge of her nose. "Jesus Christ, Sofía."

"Don't you 'Jesus Christ, Sofía' me!" Mila snapped. "You're the one who kissed me when you have a girlfriend!"

"Fine!" Kalani threw her arms up. "Go hitchhike! Go risk your life because you're pissed at me and too stubborn to listen! See if I care! When I see your picture on a missing persons flyer, I'll be the one saying 'I told you so'!"

Mila was already a missing person. How much more missing could she get? She shook her head, flipped Kalani off, and stormed off to where Donna waited by her SUV.

"Everything all right?" Donna asked. "You've got steam coming out of your ears, kid."

"I'm through with her," Mila huffed, throwing open the SUV's passenger door. "Can you drive me back to the gas station? I can't stand to be here another second."

***

    FOR THE FIRST FEW MILES OF THEIR DRIVE, Donna was silent. Then, she asked: "Did something happen between you girls?"

    Mila sank low in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. She hoped her silence could speak for itself.

    Donna looked at Mila out of the corner of her eye. She tsked, shaking her head disapprovingly. "Don't let one disagreement ruin your friendship, kid."

    "What friendship?" Mila'd known Kalani for what, less than 72 hours? That wasn't a friendship. That wasn't anything.

    Donna clicked her tongue. "I'm just saying I think you might be making a mistake."

    Mila rolled her eyes and sank even lower in her seat. She hated being so rude to someone who'd been nothing but nice to her, but she was a creature with claws and fangs. All she knew was to bite the hand that fed her. She didn't know how to 'be nice.' "You don't know anything about me," she hissed.

    Neither of them said anything else the whole drive back.

***

    MILA SAT ON THE SIDEWALK outside the gas station watching the cars come and go until the dry, scraping desert heat got too intense for her to bear. She headed inside, staring out the window at the passerby. Periodically throughout the day, she foraged together some snacks and drinks, which Donna smiled and winked at her at, telling her it was all "on the house." Donna's son, Chris, rolled his eyes at this, but said nothing.

    As the sun dipped low in the sky and the desert heat ebbed, she settled back in on the sidewalk, her legs stretched out in front of her, her ankles crossed.

    None of the people she saw were right. If she was going to hitchhike, she wasn't going to hitchhike with just anybody. Besides, she was sure if she couldn't find someone, Donna would drop her off at a nearby motel on her way home for the night. With an hour until closing and the sky quickly darkening, she was about to give in and ask Donna to drop her off somewhere. And then she saw her.

    She was in her mid- to late-twenties with rich, silky dark brown hair in a straight line across her shoulders. Her skin was brown with a coppery undertone. She was chubby and short, with round, puffy cheeks. Dressed in a sharp blue pantsuit and flats, she seemed out of place at the dingy gas station. Like Donna and Chris, she looked likely, ironically, Diné, or otherwise indigenous.

    Mila jumped to her feet and corralled her as she headed into the store. "Where are you going?"

    The girl made a face. "Excuse me?"

    Mila already liked her. She hoped she was headed west. "Sorry. That was forward. It's been a long day. I'm trying to hitch a ride."

    The girl raised her eyebrows. "You're welcome to hop in with me, but I'm not headed all that far out. Just a couple miles west into town."

    "You're a literal angel. I can't thank you enough." West. Even if it was just a couple miles. It would get Mila closer to her destination, wherever her destination was. And the town seemed more promising than this desert nowhere. Town would mean hotels and shops and more people to coerce into giving her a ride. "You can just drop me off at a hotel in town. I don't care. I just need to get out of here."

"It's fine. I was just here to grab a quick snack and say hey to Chris and his mom. I'll just be a second. You know, I actually work at a motel in town. I can drop you off there, getcha a friends and family discount." She winked. "Don't tell anyone I don't know you. What's your name?"

"Sofía."

"Oh, cool!" The girl nodded her approval. "I'm Gina and I'll be right back."

Gina dashed off into the store, reappearing with a grin on her face, a blush across her nose, and a bag of gummy bears clutched between her hands. She led Mila out to her blue Ford Fiesta. Mila hefted her bags up and tucked them beneath her seat. As she sat down, she heaved a sigh of relief. She'd been on her feet for nearly twenty-four hours, and the little time she'd had off them had been horribly uncomfortable—sitting on rocks, the sidewalk, and a plastic folding chair. There'd only been that brief ride in Donna's car out to get Kalani when she'd had a break. Mila closed her eyes and suppressed a moan.

Gina tore open the packet of gummy bears and plopped one in her mouth. She offered the bag to Mila. "Want some?"

Mila's stomach growled. All she'd had today was junk food. She was ravenous for actual food. But a couple gummy bears couldn't harm her. They'd satisfy her until she got into town, at least. She grabbed a handful and nibbled on them as Gina checked her mirrors.

"So where is it you're headed?" Gina asked, pulling the car out of the parking lot. "Hitchhiking's not all that safe, you know. If it's somewhere around here, maybe I can swing by and take you there tomorrow."

"No idea. I'll know when I get there."

Gina blinked at the darkening road. "Oh?" She said in a way that was more of a question than a statement, asking Mila to elaborate, please.

Mila did not and pulled her knees up against her chest.

***

    GINA PULLED INTO the parking lot. Mila looked up at the motel. It was an aesthetic dream, a u-shaped two-story building with two wings stretching out on either side of the parking lot. A giant neon sign along the road read THE DEVIL'S GRAVESTONE MOTEL in a tall, cheesy Art Deco font. On one side, a cartoonish devil grinned wickedly at them, his tail flicking with a light that switched from one side to the next. On the other, a gravestone blinked at them, a cross and a cartoonish skull emblazoned on it. Beneath it all, A safe place to rest your head! was written in sprawling, sparkly cursive. Which did not at all convince Mila that this place was safe. The motel's chipped paint might have been beige or burnt orange, but a giant neon MOTEL sign up on the roof bathed the entire building in an eerie neon red light. It was old, sand-blown, and exactly the sort of place Mila wanted to stay.

    The Devil's Gravestone Motel was plopped down in the center of Paperflower, which wasn't saying a lot. The main strip cutting Route 66 in half was dotted with only a handful of run-down restaurants and shops. The whole town looked like it'd been abandoned in the Wild West. About half the businesses were chains. The other half had racist names like the Navajo Gas Station.

    Milla followed Gina into the severely outdated lobby. The wallpaper looked as if Mila's grandma had picked it out. Mila couldn't tell if the carpet was horrifically stained or nauseatingly floral. Wooden planks decorated the front counter, the style of a log cabin. Even the popcorn ceiling and tacky antler chandelier assaulted Mila's eyes.

    A gangly white kid with unkempt curly brown hair, a confusing facial hair situation, and a severe case of acne stood behind the counter. His tired blue eyes and clinical slouch made him look like he wanted to be anywhere but there. His tacky yellow name tag read "Ro."

    "Jesus, Gigi." He rolled his eyes. "Couldn't keep yourself away from work?"

    Gina grinned and shook her head. "Knowing you were behind the counter, I was worried you'd set the place on fire."

    "Thank God you're here." Ro leaned his elbows on the counter. "I'm just about to lose my mind from boredom." A hint of sickly sweet cotton candy wafted out on his breath, combined with a musky, skunky scent. Not only did this kid vape, but he was probably high as shit at work.

    "I'm not staying long," Gina admitted. "Hate to break it to you. Just came in to give my good buddy Sofía my friends and family discount."

    "Soooooooofía!" Ro's eyes flicked over to Mila. "You staying with us tonight?"

Ro seemed perfectly harmless, but Mila was glad Gina was here. Any white man was enough to make Mila's nerves go off the deep-end. She felt the same urge she always got to go on the defensive, to snap back, to get sassy and rude and bite the hand that fed her. She swallowed it down, if only for Gina's friends and family discount.

Mila forced a grin. "Seems that way."

"Coolio." Ro nodded and turned his attention to the dinosaur of a computer on top of the counter. "Two queens all right? That's all we've got."

"Yeah." Mila nodded. "That'll be fine."

"Aight. That brings ya to forty even a night. You got a card?"

"I was gonna pay in cash."

"No biggie. Just gotta give it to me or Gina before five each night from now on. Give it to mama. Forty even."

Mila unzipped her duffel bag, rooting around for two crumpled twenties. She traded them for a room key.

Mila thanked Ro, Gina bid him goodnight, and the two girls headed out the front doors. After saying goodbye to each other, they turned and went their separate ways. Gina headed off to her car and Mila dragged herself up the concrete stairs, where she found her room. She spun the key in the cobwebby lock.

The room was dark, bathed in the faint scent of cigarette smoke. Mila gagged as she fumbled for the light switch, turning on a flickering lamp on a nightstand between the two beds. The aggressively emerald green carpet burned Mila's eyes. A reddish floral quilt draped over each bed. The burnt orange walls met the popcorn ceiling in lumps and swaths. A microwave and a small, old TV sat on top of the miniature dresser. Beside it, a minifridge hummed in the silence.

Mila was so exhausted, physically and mentally, she could barely stand. The motel room was shitty, but it felt like home to her.