Free Gone by Lisa Gardner

whisper about him behind his back.
    He’d made it three weeks with his second second family. Then he’d simply waited until they went to sleep, went out to the fireplace, and had a ball with the great big long matches. Those suckers could burn.
    He still remembered the shocked look on his new mama’s face when she came tearing out of her bedroom. “Do I smell smoke? Oh my God, is that a fire?
Dougie!
What have you done, you evil devil’s spawn!
”
    His second second mom slept in the nude. So did his second second dad. The fire people had giggled about that when they’d arrived at the scene. Then they’d seen him, sitting up in the branches of the giant oak tree, listening to the house snap, crackle, pop. They’d stopped, pointed, and stared.
    He’d gone to a boys’ home after that. A center for “troubled youths,” they’d told him. But the lady in the purple suit had appeared again. Dougie was too young for such a facility, he’d heard her say. Dougie still had a chance.
    Dougie didn’t know what that meant. He simply packed his bag and trotted along to the next home. This house had been near the town. No woods, no park, not even a decent yard. Dougie had discovered only one perk in this tiny house, overrun by all sorts of new brothers and sisters, who weren’t brothers and sisters at all, but just other kids who hated one another: The house was only a block from the convenience store.
    Dougie learned to steal. If they were going to keep all the matches out of his reach, stealing was second best. He started out small. Twinkies, doughnuts, the little penny candies they kept down near the floor. The kind of stuff no one really noticed. The first time, he brought his loot home, and one of his “sisters” took it from him. When he complained, she socked him in the eye. Then she sat there and ate all his candy while his eye swelled shut.
    Dougie learned his lesson. He found a loose brick in the back of the gas station, and that’s where he stashed his loot. It was good to have your own supply of food, you know. Sometimes, just looking at all the stuff, he would feel his tummy rumble. There was hunger and there was
hunger,
and already Dougie understood that he was hungrier than most.
    The store owner caught him one day, his pockets bulging with Ho Hos and apple pies. The owner had twisted his ear. Dougie had cried and surrendered the goods. “I’ll never do it again,” he promised, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. More candy fell out of his coat sleeve.
    And that was it for home number three.
    The lady in the purple suit decided Dougie needed more attention. A home with that many kids hadn’t been the right kind of home for Dougie. He needed a hands-on approach. Maybe with a Positive Male Role Model.
    Dougie went to home number four, where he was excitedly introduced to his ten-year-old “big brother,” Derek. Derek was in Boy Scouts, Derek played Pop Warner football, Derek was a “great kid” and he’d be a good influence on Dougie.
    Derek had waited until the lights were out, then he’d taken Dougie all over the house.
    “See that chair, little boy? That’s my chair.” Derek belted him in the stomach.
    “See that ball, little boy? That’s my ball.” Three fingers to a kidney.
    “See that Xbox? That’s my Xbox.” A karate chop across the neck.
    Dougie had lasted longer at this house. Mostly because he was scared to leave his bed at night. But one day, Derek went to spend a weekend at his grandma’s house. Dougie got up promptly at one a.m. He started in the bedroom. Peeling the sheets off Derek’s bed, pulling the clothes from Derek’s drawers, dragging the toys out of Derek’s closet. He took the chair. The ball. The Xbox.
    He built one helluva pile in the front yard. And then, being more experienced now, he found the gas can and started spraying. One little light and
whoosh
!
    Dougie lost both eyebrows and most of his bangs. He was also summarily whisked off the premises by