Free Public Enemies by Ann Aguirre

was smiling. He finally whispered, “Thanks.”
    It was almost seven in the morning when Kian dropped me off at my place. He wanted to walk me in and apologize to my dad, but I aimed a pointed look at the pale, frightened kid in his backseat. “Right now, he’s your priority. Get him home, clean him up. Feed him something decent.” Another problem occurred to me. “Do you have anything to eat besides cup noodles?”
    A guilty look. “I’ll buy some stuff.”
    â€œYou see my point. Look after Aaron, okay? I can handle my dad.”
    â€œIf you’re sure.” He dropped a quick kiss on my mouth, and I limped into the apartment to face the music.
    Except there was no reckoning. The living room was empty, no worried father pacing, waiting to yell at me. Nothing stopped me from heading to my room at gimp speed or taking a long shower. At seven thirty in the morning, I ate a bowl of cereal and went to bed. I slept until past one in the afternoon, and my dad didn’t wake me. When I got up, I checked my ankle—still swollen and bruised—then rewrapped the elastic bandage.
    He’d left a note on the fridge, at least, telling me he’d gone to the lab. How surprising. There was nothing to keep me here, so I decided to do a little grocery shopping and limp over to Kian’s place. Maybe that wasn’t the smartest move, but I couldn’t sit here by myself. School would be starting in four days, and we needed to figure something out for Aaron by then. He looked like he should be a freshman but I had no idea if he could even read. The kid likely needed years of counseling and help reintegrating into society.
    I texted Kian when I was nearly there and he ran out with no coat, wearing a ferocious scowl, to grab the grocery bags. “Are you trying to injure yourself permanently?”
    â€œIt’s just a sprain. I have it wrapped, don’t worry.” I wasn’t about to admit how much it actually hurt from walking around on it.
    â€œGet inside and put your foot up. If you move again today, you’ll be sorry.” His cranky face made me want to kiss him even more. I’d rarely seen Kian mad at me. Under normal circumstances, he was overly patient and understanding, like I could do no wrong because of the way we met … and the fact that he didn’t help me when he felt he should’ve. No matter the consequences.
    â€œFine,” I muttered, suppressing a secret grin.
    Inside the apartment, Aaron was perched on the couch, staring at the TV. He offered a shy smile, seeming even younger and smaller in Kian’s clothes; the T-shirt and sweats swam on him. His hair was blond—I didn’t realize that last night—attesting to how filthy he’d been, and he had blue eyes, pale and startling, like a slice of winter sky. His skin suggested he hadn’t hit puberty yet. God, his poor family.
    â€œHi, Edie.” He lifted a slender hand in greeting but didn’t get up.
    â€œHow are you feeling?”
    â€œBetter. It’s nice to be clean. And I like being unshackled.” My breath caught at the casual horror implicit in that statement. “But … Kian says I can do whatever I want.”
    â€œObviously,” I said.
    A puzzled look flashed across his small face. “But … you saved me. That means I belong to you.”
    Oh, shit. I shared a look with Kian, who was telling me with his eyes how messed up this boy was. “Uh, no. You’re a person, not a possession.”
    â€œIf you don’t protect me, who will?” It was a desperate, heartbroken question.
    Aaron’s eyes filled with tears that spilled down his pale cheeks, and he made no effort to hide or suppress them. His demeanor was so defenseless and childlike, almost like he was eight years old, that I found it hard to watch . Maybe that’s how old he was when they took him and now he’s frozen. It could also be a