Free Transparent by Natalie Whipple

been here by now. As I stare out the window at the same tall cacti and mesa-lined horizon, I fear the worst. Graham found him. Graham knows there’s only one reason Miles would be in Madison, Arizona. He’s probably being tortured into giving them my location, except he never would.
    If it were anyone else, I might be able to take it. But it’s Miles, and it’s my fault he’s in this mess. The thought of him being beaten for me is too much.
    I glance at my supplies. I went to the factory the first day, though it’s so torn up you could hardly call it that. There’s scrap metal everywhere, like a bomb went off. All that’s left is half a building, gutted out. I stayed the night there, since I could see the stars through the holes in the remaining ceiling.
    Brady and Seth left enough food to last a couple weeks, but I’ve already burned through most of the liquid. It’s too hot out here. Just opening my mouth dries it out. I’ll be dying for water before tomorrow night.
    My legs ache as I pull myself up. There’s not much choice—I have to get in cellphone range and at least try to call Miles before this phone dies. If Graham answers, I’ll just hang up and get rid of it. I grab my things and head for my favorite boulder. The second I power it on, five frantic texts show up from Miles. Each one simply says Where r u? My hand shakes as I dial his number. It barely rings once before there’s a voice.
    “Fiona?” Miles asks.
    Unexpected tears well up. “Are you okay?”
    He laughs, though I don’t think it’s very funny. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I went out there and couldn’t find a thing—I thought you’d be dead by now. Mom’s a mess.”
    I want to protest that I gave him good directions—at least as good as I could under the circumstances—but that doesn’t matter once I realize the bigger issue. “Wait … Mom’s still there?”
    “Yeah.” He doesn’t say anything after that, and I can’t seem to find words, either. Finally, he lets out a breath. “I’m not sure how to explain it, Fi.”
    “Is Graham there?”
    “He left. Two days ago.”
    “What?” Too many questions run through my head, fighting for my mouth but failing to move it. Graham left
without
her?
    “It’ll be easier to explain if you come back to the house. It’s safe, Fiona, for now. You know you can trust me.”
    I want to say it’s some kind of trap, but Miles wouldn’t do that. “You swear?”
    “On my baseball-card collection—the whole thing.” That’s a serious oath. Miles is a baseball fanatic, both the normal and gifted leagues. If he could, he’d watch it all day and talk your ear off about stats. He knows I don’t listen when he goes on his rants about batting average, but he does it anyway. He’s determined to make me a fan.
    “Okay. I’ll see you soon.” I close the phone and lean against the rock. There has to be some kind of catch. Graham couldn’t have just left. Still, if he’s gone, then we have time to plan. I don’t know how much time, but it’s better than hiding out in the desert and doing nothing but reading my math book. I was that bored.
    I suck in a breath to calm my nerves and then head for town at an easy jog. By the time I reach the house, I’m drenched in sweat and sick to my stomach. I can’t help thinking Graham’s in there, waiting to trap me and take me back to Dad’s casino. Now that he knows I tried to escape, I have this feeling we’ll never leave Dad’s watch again.
    I almost turn back, but then Miles’s warm laugh carries through the open window. My knees nearly buckle at the sound, and before I know it I’ve turned the doorknob.
    There he is with Mom on the couch, all easygoing in his baseball tee and cut-off shorts. His hair is wild and wavy as usual, sun-kissed from the summer but still brown. He smiles at me, his eyes almost meeting mine. Then the room blossoms with the scent of blueberries. He knows how much I love them.
    Scent imitation is a