“What’s best for the kids is not getting kidnapped by slaverunners,” I say. I look at Ben, appealing with my eyes. “You know that. You’re just being argumentative.”

Ben looks down at the floor. He knows I’m right. He knows the fight he’s picking with Ryan isn’t about whether we drive through the night or not, but about me.

“Ben, I’m sorry,” I say. “But there’s plenty of bikes. If you want to stay back and sleep the night, you can. Ryan and I can just go on ahead and meet up with you later.”

His gaze snaps up. “No way.”

Once again I know he’s arguing against me and Ryan being alone together more than anything else.

“There has to be some kind of compromise,” I say diplomatically.

Bree, overhearing the dispute, comes over.

“Brooke’s right,” she says. “We have to keep going. If we stay here we’ll get caught by slaverunners.”

Ben folds his arms. “I’m not just going to change my mind because an eleven-year-old girl has told me to. That’s not how democracy works.”

“Who said this was a democracy?” Bree says haughtily. “Brooke’s leader. It’s her plan. She gets to decide.”

Everyone looks at me. I curse silently in my head. I wish Bree hadn’t put me in such a difficult situation. I know Ben’s going to read more into my answer than he ought to, that he’s going to think that I’m choosing Ryan when really all I’m choosing is common sense. But right now staying alive is more important than not hurting Ben’s feelings.

“I’m sorry,” I say to him. “But we’re driving on. It’s only a couple more hours before we reach the Mississippi. We can rest there.”

Ben shakes his head and looks so disappointed it makes my stomach ache. The atmosphere is beyond tense. Then suddenly, Stephan starts clapping.

“I’m so glad you guys brought me along for the ride,” he says. “This is so entertaining.”

Molly shoots him an angry glare.

With a heavy heart, I get back on my bike and try to kick it to life. But nothing happens. I check the gas gauge and realize that it’s practically on zero.

“Um, guys!” I call out. “I’m out of gas!”

One by one, everyone checks their own bikes and realizes that the same fate has befallen them. Every single one of our bikes has run out of gas.

I turn on Stephan.

“I thought you said the tanks were full!” I snap. “You said we could make it all the way to the Mississippi.”

He looks sheepish. “They were. I guess they just… well, the bikes are really old, you know? Maybe there were leaks in the tubes or something.”