Free Helping Hands by Laurie Halse Anderson

worth coming back for? Maybe he stole them in the first place. What if he decides that Buster is too much trouble? What if he abandons the pony at the side of the road . . . or worse?
    A sharp burst of wind rakes through the parking lot, causing the corral panels to fall with a loud clatter. The trees bow and sway, scattering blossoms and new leaves.
    I want to . . .
    I can’t . . .
    I shouldn’t. . . .
    I will . . .
    I have to find that campsite and save the ponies.
    I can’t take off until Mom and Dad are asleep, but that gives me plenty of time to get ready. The first thing is to borrow a few supplies: a gallon jug for hot water, a box of Epsom salts, and the last bag of alfalfa pellets. I’ll need to take Mom’s cell phone, which means I have to find it and charge it.
Hmmm . . .
That one’s going to require some more thought.
    I head down to the Vet Volunteer room in the basement to use the ancient computer. It’s so slow I want to scream, but instead I practice my calm and steady deep breaths and gradually click through to a map of Ambler. I zoom out and try to figure where Gus and the ponies might be staying.
    Okay, this is getting a little complicated.
    Eventually, I settle on three possible sites. I print out a map and directions to all three, and try not to wince when I see how many miles I’ll be biking. I put the directions and the rest of the supplies in my backpack. The last thing is to pump up the tires on my bike because my parents will definitely be sleeping with their windows open tonight, and I need to get out as quietly as possible.
    I find the hand pump and a flashlight in the storage closet, head up to the store, and tiptoe across the squeaky wooden boards. Mom and Sophie are giggling upstairs with Jules. There’s a baseball game on the television, so I know where Dad is, too. I sneak out the back door, walk the length of the building to our bike rack, put the flashlight in my mouth, and kneel down to unscrew the valve on the back tire of my bike.
    â€œKind of late for a bike ride,” says a deep voice in the dark. “Don’t you think?”
    â€œDad?” I shine the flashlight up the alley and find him standing there with a trowel in one hand and a potted begonia in the other. “What are you doing?”
    â€œThat’s
my
question,” he says mildly.
    â€œMy tires need air,” I say, sticking to the truth.
    â€œIs there any reason they need air right now?” he asks. “Nobody goes out on a bike ride at night—alone—right? Because that would extremely dangerous, I’m guessing.”
    Busted.
    â€œI was thinking about it,” I admit with a sigh. “But I was going to bring Mom’s cell phone with me so I’d be safe.”
    â€œCome help me with these flowers,” Dad suggests. “I did everything in my power to keep your mom from checking her planters today.”
    Under the faint glow from the streetlight on the corner, Dad and I plant new flowers and herbs to replace those that Babe had devoured for her breakfast. Slowly, I fill Dad in about my plans to find the campsite, take pictures of the bad conditions that Gus forces the ponies to live in, and give Buster’s leg another soaking treatment.
    â€œAnd you were going to do all of that at night, in the middle of nowhere, by yourself?” Dad asks.
    â€œIt sounded like a better plan when it was in my head,” I admit. “Saying it out loud . . . well, it doesn’t sound quite as good.”
    â€œIf you were a superhero, it would be easier and safer. I’m proud of your compassion, Josh.” Dad pauses to pat the soil down around the roots of a basil plant. “The world needs more kids like you and your friends, kids who understand animals and try to make their lives better.” He sits on the edge of the planter. “But riding off in the darkness like