Free The Gift by James Patterson Page B

in, I lower my eyes from his. “I better go meet up with my
     brother. He needs to hear about this.”
    “Yes,” says Byron Officious Swain as if he’s my aide-de-camp—or, worse, my boyfriend. “Keep us apprised,” he tells the drummer.
     Then he actually grabs my hand and starts pulling me toward the door.
    How is it that I mess up with just about the hottest guy I’ve ever seen—and then find myself holding hands with Byron?
    This isn’t about being “special”; it’s about being
cursed.

Chapter 31

    Wisty
    CURSED, YES, but not for long apparently.
    That’s because Eric—as he finally introduced himself—and the rest of the Bionics decide they want to come back with us to
     Garfunkel’s.
    Whit is less than enthused. I have the sense he doesn’t trust them—and, of course, he’s still mad about the whole stealing-his-journal
     incident—but with Sasha, Emmet, Janine, and me backing the Bionics, he can’t quite say no.
    A bunch of us are in the middle of doing an impromptu a cappella version of “The Fire Outside” when suddenly Whit floors the
     gas pedal while making a sharp turn. Eric’s hand
just happens
to slide off his knee and come to rest on my hand. It stays right there. I have no urgent need to remove it.
    “Buckle up, everybody!” Whit shouts. “We’ve got New Order police on our tail.”
    “Police?” I say, incredulous. “What are they doing here in Freeland?”
    “Yeah!” shouts my brother. “And how did they manage to find us is another good question. Now brace yourselves!”
    The van accelerates, and I scramble to look out the back windows. Three heavily armed New Order police vehicles are bearing
     down on us. This looks bad. Whit takes a sharp left turn that sends us all sprawling against the side of the van.
    My head’s flung against Eric’s chest. Talk about making the best of a bad situation.
    “Sorry,” I mumble.
    “S’okay,” Eric whispers.
    But then a sharp
right
turn sends us rolling violently against the other side.
    And now I’m tangled up with Byron.
Ick.
    “They’ve got us boxed in. Coming from all sides!” yells Whit, braking the van to a rocking standstill. “We’ll have to run!
     Everybody take off in different directions. Hopefully they won’t get all of us!”
    “No!”
I yell. “That’s not the best plan. Seriously, just stay in the van!”
    Everyone looks at me like I’m crazy, which I might be. We’ll know soon enough.
    “You guys know the song ‘Magic Truck’ by the How?” I ask.
    Eric starts laying down a beat on the floor of the van. The bassist and guitarist grab their instruments.
    Meanwhile, police cars are skidding to a stop all around us—and then a voice is coming over their PA:
“Exit the vehicle immediately and lie on the ground.”
    I wave for the band to keep playing. The lead singer starts in, and then I join him. The groove is instant, almost as if we’ve
     been rehearsing together for a couple of months.
    I hear the policemen pounding on the windows. We answer by turning up the volume.
    Then we don’t hear the policemen anymore. That’s because we’ve succeeded in levitating the van several hundred feet in the
     air.
    Yeah, you heard me right.
    The music was magic. The music did it.
The van is still rising in the air.
    I look out the back at the police vehicles, and one of the cops is throwing his hat on the ground in frustration.
    “That was close. Too close,” comments Byron, seeing the glass as half empty.
    “It… freaking…
worked!
” I scream, and then I can’t help myself—I throw my arms around Eric.
My
glass is very,
very
full.
    This is definitely the best night of my life on the
Wanted Dead or Alive
list.

Chapter 32

    Wisty
    I THINK kissing was involved—I’m not certain, but I’m pretty sure. I think Eric’s a good kisser. Not sure, though. The entire evening
     was kind of a blur.…
    I wake up inside Garfunkel’s the next morning, and I have two distinct thoughts: First:
Did I dream of