Patrick and Chet were gone for a long time. The two oldest kids in our party. The two closest to death. I don’t know what they did, but I imagined Chet sitting up there staring at Ponderosa Pass in the distance, trying not to count the ticking seconds. Our air was crisp, the view clear, and I hoped every breath was a reminder of the good things his life had held.

They came back in for dinner, and all the kids went out of their way to be extra nice to Chet, offering him their dessert, making sure he had the most comfortable cot, the best pillows.

But even after night fell, he didn’t sleep.

If I had only a few hours to live, I wouldn’t be able to sleep either.

He sat on his cot, rocking, his arms wrapped around himself.

Everyone tried not to look at him, but he was the center of attention—even the air seemed to pull toward him there in the middle of the cots.

I lay in my own bed scribbling in my notebook, doing my best not to stare. But I couldn’t help shooting looks over at him now and then.

Morning passed in a crawl. Now kids kept their distance from Chet, who moved through the breakfast line sluggishly, his face heavy with dread. He sat at a table alone in the corner of the cafeteria, chewing his food, his eyes lowered.

I picked up my tray and went to join him. We didn’t speak. There was no point. Nothing could make him feel better. I just didn’t want him eating his last breakfast alone.

Back at the gym, Chet sat in the bleachers, his head hanging low.

The clock crept to ten, then eleven. Finally the minute hand inched its way up toward noon.

Ben stood, tugging the stun gun from his belt. “It’s time,” he said.

The Mendez twins burst out crying and ran to hide behind the bleachers.

“Where do you want it done?” Ben asked. “Want me to take you somewhere private?”

“No,” Chet said. “I don’t want to be alone. I want to be here with all of you. If that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Patrick said. “You get whatever you want.”

Alex said, “You’re surrounded by friends here.”

Ben strode over and said, “I’ll wait for you to start to turn. Then I’ll do it. You won’t feel a thing.”

Chet nodded, his cheeks wobbling.

Ben raised the stun gun and pressed it to Chet’s forehead. “Ready, Chet?”

Chet closed his eyes.

Entry 23

ENTRY 23

It felt like there was no air in the gym. We watched stiffly, our bodies tensed, waiting for the clack of the stun gun firing through Chet’s skull into his brain.

Ben’s fist tightened around the handle.