Chico Harlan, Hector Emanuel, Peter McBride:

NINE TEENAGERS STUFF THE LAST FIVE ROWS OF A BOEING 737, listening to the plane’s mechanical orchestra — the whistle of its warming engines, the hum of its slow taxi — scanning for alerts of doom. Eight of them have never flown before. All of them spend their days behind the barbed-wire fences of Oak Hill, the decaying youth detention center in Laurel reserved for the District’s worst male juvenile offenders.
Yet at 4:30 on this August morning, a white-painted Oak Hill bus with grated windows deposited the teens at Baltimore-Washington Thurgood Marshall International Airport. For the next eight days, freedom will supplant regimen in their lives. No 7 a.m. wake-up calls. No sudden lockdown searches for contraband. No mandatory lights out. The teens will land in Phoenix and begin an adventure both ambitious and risky: In the wilderness of Arizona and Utah, they will pitch tents, hike canyons, leap from cliffs and paddle through rapids. The teens, some of whom can’t swim or have never seen mountains, will enter a different world. And then they’ll return to their own.