Authors: Eva Gray
A
lonso says, “I think we’re going due south,” gives the security guard a hard kick, and then we’re falling through space down three stories.
On the theory that if I keep my eyes closed, my life can’t pass in front of them and therefore I can’t die, they’re shut when we land.
So it takes me a moment to realize that not only are we not dead, but also I’m not hurt. The ground beneath my hand is uneven and springy. Opening my eyes, I see we’ve landed on the surprisingly cushy fake grass border that runs along the edge of the library.
I will never say another mean thing about PlastiGrass for the rest of my life.
I can’t hear anything because my heart is pounding so loudly in my ears, but Alonso’s mouth is moving and he’s pointing up, and when I follow the direction of his finger I see the security guard leaning out the window, fiddling with his walkie-talkie.
I look down and see that we are still holding hands. Alonso squeezes mine and nods, and I feel happy and like I want to cry at the same time.
We get up and I take a second to orient myself. We’ve come out on one side of the building, near the back. The loading dock where we are supposed to meet Rosie, Ryan, and Louisa is to our right. Two steps take us to the corner, but as we round it, we stop. Instead of Rosie and Ryan and Louisa, there are half a dozen police cars.
“Backup plan,” I say. Alonso nods. We’ve taken two steps in the other direction when I feel Alonso jerk his hand out of mine.
“I’m sorry.” I gulp, embarrassed. I must have been squeezing it. But when I turn around he’s leaning over, gripping his knee.
“No, it wasn’t you.” His face is a twisted grimace. “I bashed my knee when I was trying to get rid of the security guard.”
“Can you walk?”
“Oh yeah,” he says, standing up. “I’m sure it’s not —” He takes a step and stumbles, plunging face-first back into the fake grass.
I hear walkie-talkie static and then footsteps from the direction of the police cars. We have to get out of here.
“Here, lean on me,” I say, draping his arm over my shoulder.
The guard has disappeared from the window but I still think we should take evasive measures. So we cross the street and crouch behind some bushes along the side of a house. From inside we can hear the low buzz of a NewsServ but not what it’s saying.
“I hope they didn’t get Rosie, Ryan, and Louisa,” Alonso whispers.
“I don’t see them in the cars. And since they had time to warn us, I’m guessing they got —” I cut myself off as
the crunch of footsteps approaches the bushes where we are hiding. They stop right in front of us.
I hold my breath.
A hand reaches through the bushes and taps me on the head, and a voice says, “You’re it!”
But not a police officer’s voice. A little girl’s voice.
Alonso and I exchange glances.
“I found you,” the girl says. She leans over the bush. She looks to be maybe five. Her hair is in pigtails and one of the bows has come untied. She seems cute and sweet. She must live in the house we’re crouching beside. “You come out,” she says. “It’s my turn to hide.”
Alonso says, “We can’t. We’re playing with those men over there. See them?”
She glances toward the police, then back at us, and nods.
“If we come out now, they’ll win,” Alonso elaborates. “You don’t want the grown-ups to win, do you?”
She thinks about this. Then her eyes narrow and suddenly she doesn’t look so sweet. She says, “What’ll you give me not to tell on you?”
Alonso grimaces as he shifts to reach into his pocket, pulling out the eye shadow compact. “This,” he says. “It’s a pretty color.”
The girl sneers at him. “No way. I want that.” She points at me. “What is it?”
“That” turns out to be my compass, which out of nervous habit I’ve taken from my pocket and am holding in my hand.
“You don’t want that,” Alonso says dismissively. “It doesn’t even tell the time.”
She holds out her hand. “Give it to me or I go tell one of those men where to find you.”
Alonso looks at me and his expression says,
You don’t have to give in to this little troll tyrant
. Maybe because of that, or maybe because the little girl then says, “There’s a big fat one coming this way right now,” I reach up and hand her the compass.
She looks at it, sticks out her tongue at us, and skips away.
“What are they teaching the children these days?” Alonso asks rhetorically. He has the compact open
and is using the mirror to watch her through the bushes.
“What’s she doing?”
“Well, she went straight up to one of the cops and started talking to him. He looks interested. Now she’s nodding. Now she’s pointing —”
We’re both poised to run.
“— away from us. And they seem to be listening.”
The next moment I hear doors slamming and engines starting, and, like a flock of birds taking off in unison, the police speed away in a flurry of wailing sirens.
When the cries of the sirens have diminished to a distant moan, I slide out of our hiding place. As we stand up, I realize I’ve been holding my breath.
Alonso leans heavily against the bushes. The slightly green color of his skin and the tightness of his jaw make it clear that he’s in a lot of pain.
I hold out my arm. “Lean on me,” I say, and he shakes his head. “Seriously, don’t be stupid.”
He slings his arm over my shoulder and we start walking back to the car wash.
“I’m sorry about your compass,” he says.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure I can get another one,” I say as casually as I can, even though the thought of being without it is causing me a little panic.
We have only six blocks to go but it feels farther. Partially, I suspect, because the whole jumping-to-your-(maybe)-death-and-being-on-the-run-from-the-police thing has left my legs kind of wobbly. It’s just past factory closing time, so there are more people on the street than there were when we walked over. At first that worries me, but no one seems to pay us any special attention, and I realize a guy walking with his arm across a girl’s shoulders probably just looks like two teenagers out on a date.
Which makes my legs feel even more unsteady. I have a sudden strong urge to check our direction on my compass, and I’m already reaching for it before I remember it’s not there.
At the next intersection we have to stop and wait for the light. I look up at Alonso to see how he’s doing.
He smiles at me. “You were really brave back there,” he says.
I get that weird feeling in my stomach again. “We wouldn’t have had to be brave if I’d listened to you and left when you first said we should. You got hurt because of me.”
“I got hurt because of that security guard. And not badly hurt. Although I’m really looking forward to seeing Louisa.”
My stomach bounces like that rubber ball.
“I want to tell you something,” he says.
“You don’t have to,” I assure him quickly, wondering how long until the light changes. “I know.”
“You do?” He looks genuinely surprised.
“Yes.” He opens his mouth but I rush on. “I know there’s someone — special to you,” I say. “I figured it out at the party store.”
His mouth makes an O shape. He nods, like he’s remembering something. “Right. What you said before about the holidays.”
“No, not then, after.”
“After? How?”
“You weren’t exactly subtle. I have eyes.” And ears, I
want to add, remembering how he cracked up at Louisa’s joke. “The way you always try to make her laugh and help her out.”
I’m avoiding his eyes but I can tell he’s staring at me. “I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing.”
I can tell he’s uncomfortable so I try to think of the most tactful way to put it. “Yes, we are. We’re talking about how there’s someone you like. But … I’m afraid she doesn’t have the same feelings for you.”
I sense him try to stand up straighter next to me, like he’s tense. I feel horrible. “She doesn’t?”
“No. I’m sorry. I just — I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Oh. Okay,” he says, looking straight ahead. “Thanks for the heads-up. But —”
He sounds so sad. “I think Louisa is wrong,” I say impulsively to cheer him up. “Personally I think you’re great and you used to read the dictionary, which I think is one of the cutest things ever, but —” I stop myself when I realize what I’ve said.
At this moment I wouldn’t mind if some police came and took me away. The light changes and we start
walking and I hope that will be the end of it. But of course, no.
I feel his eyes on me. “
Louisa
?” he repeats.
“Don’t deny it. Don’t say anything. I just thought I should tell you,” I stammer, concentrating on weaving through the other pedestrians. I feel totally lost and I hate that feeling. I wish life came with an emotional compass.
“That’s not actually what I was going to tell you.”
I don’t want to look at him but I can’t help it.
“What I was going to tell you is that you were right. In the office with the phone? What you said about me not liking holidays because of my mom dying. My father travels all the time, and so without my mom, holidays just feel empty.” He exhales. “It’s kind of hard to talk about so mostly I don’t tell people.”
My chest feels tight. “Thanks for telling me.”
“After I said all that stuff about how you don’t have to keep secrets alone, I figured I owed you. And it turns out I was right. I do feel better.”
“Just another sign of your quiet brilliance,” I joke as we cross from the sidewalk onto the pavement of the car wash.
He laughs. “Right.” He pushes his hair off his forehead. “And about that other thing —” he starts to say, but before he gets any further Rosie is running across the pavement toward us.
Her eyes are huge. “How did you get here?” she demands, turning to walk with us to the door.
“We hobbled.” Alonso points at his knee. “War injury.” We go inside and he lifts his arm from my shoulder.
Rosie is still looking strange. “But the police had the place covered.”
“They went down; we went up,” Alonso says. He turns to me. “Can we finish what we were discussing later?”
“Sure, yeah,” I say, meaning “No, never, are you insane?”
“Why didn’t you answer on the phone?” Rosie demands.
“We had to turn it off,” I tell her. “We got up to the third floor and there was a guard there sleeping and —” My voice trails off. Louisa, Ryan, and Drew have circled around and I realize they’re all looking at us like we’ve risen from the dead. Can they tell that we were holding hands?
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Drew says, “When the police came, over the walkie-talkie, they didn’t just say there was an intruder. They said the intruder was Evelyn Posner.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. “The police knew my name?” I say. “But — but how?”
“Someone must be watching us,” Rosie says. “Or —” She looks around, and I know what’s coming, and I can also tell she’s hating saying it. “Or one of us is a traitor.”
I look from one to another of my friends’ faces and I can’t believe it.
I think about joking with Louisa in the drive-in about fixin’s. About how Rosie sacrificed a chance to find Wren to save us. About what Alonso just confided in me about missing his mom. They’re more than friends to me. They’ve become my new family.
Family
.
That’s when I realize that Rosie is right. One of us
is
a traitor.
And I know who.
I
take a step away from the others.
“It’s me,” I say.
They stare at me and I rush on. “I didn’t mean to be a traitor, but it’s my fault the police knew I was there. I — there was a phone at the library and we were hiding and it didn’t seem like anything bad could happen, and I — I called home. They must have traced the call.”
“If they’re tracing all the calls out of the library, they must have your name on some kind of watch list,” Alonso says.
“Either that or the Alliance is tracing all calls to our parents,” Drew counters.
Neither of those is a very happy thought. Louisa’s mouth is moving but no sounds are coming out. Finally
she says, “But — but that means we can’t go home. People from the Alliance could be waiting for us
at our homes.
”
“It might not be the Alliance,” I say, even though I don’t believe it. “Maybe it’s a team sent out to find — what?” I break off.
Rosie is standing in front of me with her hands over her mouth shaking her head. “Oh no,” she says. “It is the Alliance. It has to be.”
“What is it?”
I move toward her, and it’s only because I am so close that I can hear it when she whispers, “Maddie. That’s how they found her. It
is
my fault.”
Not this again.
Rosie drops her hands but her face is bleak. She looks at Drew and says, “You know I’m right.”
His expression goes from confused to understanding. He puts up a hand. “Wait a second, Rosie. It’s not that simple.”
“What are you two talking about?” I demand.
“The night before Maddie was taken, when Drew and I were at the gas station looking around, there was a
pay phone,” Rosie says. “And I tried to call my parents. No one answered, so I didn’t think anything of it. But now …” Her voice trails off.
“Maddie wasn’t taken until the next day,” Ryan points out.
Drew puts in, “And that truck driver Gladys Cato saw us. It’s a lot more likely that they found her that way.”
“I guess,” Rosie says, completely unconvinced. “But —”
“It really doesn’t matter,” I rush to say. “What matters is that we know we can’t make any kind of contact with our parents.” I push aside the slight pang I feel. There’s too much at stake for homesickness. “At least not until Maddie is safe.”
Alonso gives one of his mischievous smiles and stands with his hands in his pockets. “But that shouldn’t be too long now. Because we figured out where she is.”
Rosie rallies. “What? Why didn’t you say that before?”
“You didn’t give us a chance,” I say. “She’s someplace called the HW Branch. I’m pretty sure I remember seeing it on the map.”
“This calls for a celebration,” Ryan announces. “Anyone care for some tofu chili in hot, medium, or mild?”
“Yeah, I’d love some of all three. And if you have crispycakes and fizzy lemon soda, I’d take those as well,” Alonso says, playing along.
“Okay, break it out.” Ryan rubs his hands together. “What food did you bring back from the library? I’m starving.”
The others all glance from him to us expectantly. Alonso and I look at each other with shock. We didn’t just not
bring
any food.
“We forgot to even look for food,” I gasp. “And it’s my fault because I spent so long —”
“No, it’s my fault because while you were on the computer, I could —”
“— even though you kept saying we should —”
“— or at least been looking around instead of —”
“That’s really too bad,” Ryan breaks in, and he’s so angry that his voice is quivering. I’ve never seen anything like the expression on his face.
“Yeah,” Louisa snarls. Her eyes are bright with fury. “I guess we’ll just have to make do with this.” She bends and whisks away a tarp I hadn’t even noticed on the ground.
Beneath it are cans of tofu chili and bottles of soda and bags of pretzels and soychips and apple snips and crackers and I even make out the bright orange top of a can of Cheezy-Wizard and something in a silver wrapper that looks like a dessert. I feel like I should rub my eyes to make sure I’m not dreaming.
“What? How?” I try to ask but my questions are drowned out by Rosie, Drew, Ryan, and Louisa laughing so hard they almost choke themselves.
“Evelyn’s face when you asked about the food —” Rosie says, sputtering. “It was —”
Ryan gasps for air. “I know. And Alonso’s eyes. They looked like they were going to pop out!” He clutches his stomach.
Louisa has tears running down her face. “And when they were each” —
hiccup
— “trying to take the” —
hiccup
— “blame —”
Rosie wipes her nose on her sleeve and stands, giggling and shaking her head. “Yeah, because hacking the computer, finding Maddie, and escaping from a full police cordon wasn’t enough. Ever the overachiever.” For some reason having her say that makes my cheeks feel warm.
Drew, who has gone to stand next to the stash of food, clears his throat. When we turn to face him, he points like a tour guide showing off a city. “The fizzy lemon soda is over there, but I’m afraid there aren’t any crispycakes because those aren’t a NutriCorp product. There are crispy
snacks
, though, and butterscotch, chocolate, and berry bars.”
“It’s beautiful,” Alonso breathes, and I have to agree with him.
Rosie takes a long deep breath and gets really serious. “Do you two have any idea how scared we were?” she asks. “When we heard them saying Evelyn’s name and then you just disappeared?”
I shake my head.
“Don’t do that again,” Rosie says.
Alonso gestures at the stash of food. “You must have been scared enough for Ryan to lose his appetite, or none of this would still be here.”
“Well, I did try the soychili,” Ryan admits.
We
all
start laughing then and I realize this isn’t regular laughter. This is a kind of laughter you can have only when you’ve been through some really scary stuff together.
And have some really scary stuff still to face.
Ryan’s still defending himself, saying, “Really it was just to make sure the food wasn’t drugged like the stuff we found in that prison camp,” as we each take our favorite things from the unbelievable selection. For the first time in days, there’s more than just nuts and berries. And more than just enough. There’s no reason to ration.
Rosie, Louisa, and I sit off to the side by ourselves while the boys stay within easy reaching distance of all the food. As we eat, Louisa and Rosie tell me about how they took advantage of Drew distracting the security guard outside the library to “liberate” the food from the back of the truck. Then Drew made a miraculous recovery
and ran off to join them. I tell them about Phoenix and escaping from the guard.
“I can’t believe you had to go into a boys’ bathroom,” Rosie says. She looks at Louisa. “Do you think she needs a special shot after that to make sure she doesn’t have a disease, doc?”
Louisa laughs. “I’ll keep an eye on her.” Then she gets serious. She says, “Maddie is lucky to have friends like you. And so am I.” And reaches out to gather Rosie and me into a hug.
“Me, too,” I agree.
“Yeah, you guys are okay,” Rosie says casually. But she hugs us the hardest of all.
Alonso must have told the boys about what we found because when we move back toward the food, Drew is saying, “So Phoenix isn’t a person; it’s a school. And you’re sure that’s where Maddie is?”
Alonso’s lying on his stomach, propped on his elbows. “Yep, but only until tomorrow night. So we’ll have to get her during the day.” He looks at me as I sit down cross-legged. “Right?”
I nod.
“And we better not mess up,” Rosie says. She and Louisa are sitting back to back. “Or we’ll have to find this Bright Spa place. And it doesn’t sound like a library.”
Louisa twists her neck to glance at the clock. “Are you sure it’s too late to try tonight?”
I know exactly how she feels. But I’ve also glanced at the map and learned that the HW Branch is the Harold Washington Library, and it’s more than an hour’s walk away. “It’s after six. We’d be out way after curfew.”
Ryan is lying on his side with his head propped on his palm. He opens his mouth and Rosie says, “Let me guess — you’re going to suggest we hot-wire a car.”
“No,” he says in a way that makes it clear that he totally was. “I, was, um —”
“What about a bus?” Louisa offers. “We saw one when we were at the other library, so they must run out here. I still have my bus pass and it should have enough credit on it for everyone.”
Alonso turns sideways to pull a pamphlet out of the pocket of his cargo pants. Clearing his throat, he reads,
“The Harold Washington Library is served by several of the city’s main bus lines.” He holds up what he’s reading from. “At least according to the 2012 Guide to the Chicago Library System I picked up today.”
“That was when it
was
a library,” I point out.
“It’s still a good idea.” Drew moves his pack so he can lean on it like a pillow. “Any bus that goes south will at least get us closer and mean less time on the street.”
“Not tonight.” Rosie shakes her head definitively. “We have no idea what this place is like. We’re going to need time to look around. Does the pamphlet say anything that could be helpful?”
Alonso skims along. “Four large winged beasts on the corner … glass-roofed atrium on the top available for parties … state-of-the-art children’s library … huh.”
“What?” Ryan asks.
“The good news is, there’s probably a lot of places to hide if blending in doesn’t work,” Alonso tells us. “The bad news is that’s because when it was built, the Harold Washington Library was the largest public building in America. Nine huge floors and four subbasements.”
Drew’s taken off his glasses and is staring at the roof of the car wash. “That’s a lot of real estate to find one person without being spotted.”
Even splitting into two teams, it could take us … more time than we have. As the stark truth of his words sinks in, silence falls like a heavy blanket over us.
Until Rosie sits up, sending Louisa tipping sideways. “But don’t you see?” Rosie says, looking around at all of us with bright, excited eyes. “Being spotted is the one thing we don’t have to worry about. In fact, this might be the only place Maddie could be hidden in Chicago where we won’t stand out.” I have no idea what she’s talking about, and from the way everyone else just blinks at her, they don’t, either. She throws up her hands. “It’s a
school
. The people around Maddie are students. It’s exactly where we’re supposed to be. Perfect camouflage.”
Relief washes over me, and, with it, exhaustion. Between not getting a lot of sleep the night before and finally having a real meal, I am having trouble staying awake.
I pull out my sleeping bag, set it up a little bit away from where the others are still talking, and get in. I’m
glad they are happy, but I can’t stop worrying. Rosie’s right: it’s a school. It almost all seems too — easy. I don’t like the fact that we don’t have a plan.
Maybe that’s why, despite how tired I am, I toss and turn. In my dreams I hear the phone ringing in my parents’ house. It echoes through the empty rooms, hopelessly, until the echo becomes Troy’s voice saying,
The smell, the noise
. “What?” I ask him, but he just looks disappointed at me. And then all I see is his one eye peering at me, and I’m convinced someone is watching me. I try to run but I don’t know which way to go, and I can’t find my compass, and I open my mouth to scream but there’s a hand over it and a voice says, “Stop fighting and be quiet.”
Only it’s not a dream. Someone really whispers that in my ear. Someone has their hand over my mouth.
Someone crouching right next to me.
My eyes fly open and in the semidarkness the first thing I see is the silver star winking on the sleeve of an Alliance uniform.