Free Desert Passage by P. S. Carillo

a place to camp.”
    Miguel took the road leading to the Grand Canyon National Park. The entrance to the park was unattended and they drove through unnoticed. Miguel followed the road signs directing traffic to the southern rim of the canyon. Driving around the connecting roads, he looked for a place to park and for a safe place to sleep. He noticed that many of the tourists had trailers to sleep in, while an adventurous few camped outside in tents.
    Seeing a public rest stop in a secluded area, he decided to pull in. Both boys were glad to stop for the night. The first day was exhausting and Ramón’s arm was starting to hurt again.
    As Miguel untied the sleeping bag from the front of the scooter, he felt something hit his foot. He looked down and saw a soccer ball rolling on the ground.
    â€œHey, sorry about that,” the voice said.
    Miguel looked around and saw a boy his age running toward him.
    â€œJason can’t kick a ball straight. I’m surprised he hasn’t kicked it into the canyon yet,” the boy said, laughing. He picked up the soccer ball and looked at the two boys and Natalie leaning on her metal stand. “Hey, are you guys driving that around?”
    Miguel stood up straight and was eager to impress the stranger. “Yeah, we’re on a road trip to New Mexico, been driving all day.”
    â€œNo way!” the boy said with surprise, and added, “by yourselves?”
    Ramón jumped into the conversation.
    â€œYeah, it goes pretty fast, we’re driving with the big rigs on the highway. Miguel crashed, though. We got pretty banged up,” he bragged.
    The stranger was impressed. He turned to Miguel and said, “We’re camping out along the rim over there.” He pointed behind him. “I’ll ask our adviser if you can join us.”
    Before Miguel or Ramón could reply, the boy ran off with the soccer ball across the parking lot. He returned with a young man who looked about twenty years old.
    â€œThis is Turner, he’s our adviser for the trip. I’m Chris,” the new boy said. Turner was actually in his late twenties but looked young for his age. He smiled at the boys and shook their hands.
    â€œHow are you guys doing?” Turner asked, looking at the scooter from the corner of his eye.
    â€œI’m Miguel and this is Ramón, my cousin.”
    â€œAre you guys all alone out here?”
    â€œWe’re on our way to New Mexico. We’re doing all right,” Ramón said, swinging his backpack on his good arm.
    Turner had been working with youth groups since he had been old enough to be an adviser on his first camping trip. He was a good mentor and understood that young men needed guidance through life. He also could accurately detect the ages of the two boys standing in front of him and was perplexed by their travel plans.
    â€œSo, who’s older?” Turner asked, not wanting to reveal the true nature of his question.
    â€œI am,” Miguel replied. He had become more comfortable with his new identity on the road and could answer the question without hesitation.
    â€œSo, you’re in high school?” Turner continued.
    â€œOh, yeah, I’ve just got two more years to go,” Miguel answered, hoping he had calculated correctly.
    Turner smiled at the boys and decided he would make further inquiries later. He could see that the boys were tired and hungry.
    â€œWhy don’t you join us for dinner, and if you don’t have anywhere to sleep, you can camp out with us. We’re sleeping out in the open tonight by campfire,” Turner said.
    Turner had seen their one sleeping bag, which was now lying on the asphalt, and figured that the boys were not well equipped to handle a night alone in the desert.
    Miguel was hungry again and the idea of sleeping around a campfire sounded fun, “What do you think, Ramón?” he asked, looking at his cousin.
    Ramón adjusted the backpack on his