Free Torched by April Henry

I walked through the living room, I jumped, the last bit of adrenaline I had jolting through my veins. Laurel was sitting in Matt’s recliner, dressed in a long, white night-gown, her iron-gray hair loose down her back. I had told her earlier in the day that I would be out late, without spelling out it was for MED. But she must have guessed, and now here she was.
    Without a word, Laurel stood up and held her arms out to me. She had put me in this position, and now she wanted to hold me? I pushed past her, shaking off her hand when she tried to touch me. “I’m going to bed,” I said, in a voice that made it clear that I didn’t want to be bothered by her.
    As I entered the hall, I heard a small, strangled noise. Turning, I saw the shine of tear tracks on her cheeks. My mother, crying?
    “I’m sorry, honey, so sorry,” she choked out. I noticed she kept her voice low, so she could still keep Matt in the dark. “This is all our fault.”
    “You know what, Mom?” I said. “I don’t care if you’re sorry. It’s too late for that.” I went into my room, but instead of slamming the door, I closed it very, very gently.

CHAPTER TWELVE
    “Did anyone see you?” Cedar asked. It was three days later, and the MEDics were passing around the blurry photo I had taken. We were back on the picnic bench in the same rundown park we had met in earlier. Coyote sat next to Cedar, and just his presence eased a little of my nervousness.
    I wasn’t sure how to answer Cedar’s question. The paper had never run a story about the glued lock, much less that there had been a witness. Under the table, Blue, who was sitting next to me, patted my knee.
    Liberty watched me, her face alert. Meadow chewed her thumbnail, looking at me from underneath her bangs. Hawk stared at me with his creepy pop-out eyes, expressionless. The others seemed to take it for granted that I was already in. Jack Rabbit had high-fived me when I arrived, and Grizz had given me a hug that lifted me off my feet.
    I thought about lying, but what if Cedar had had someone watching me? If this was some kind of final test, I didn’t want to screw it up. “A guy saw me after I was done, but I took evasive action.” I tried to sound professional.
    “How do you know you weren’t followed?” Liberty demanded. “How do we know you haven’t compromised us all?”
    She looked around, as if expecting the others to chime in, but no one else said anything.
    “Because I lost him,” I said. “Besides, when he yelled at me, he called me ‘kid.’ I’m pretty sure he thought I was a guy. And I was far away and had my hood pulled up.”
    Cedar looked at me for a long time, expressionless. Finally, he nodded and said, “You did well.”
    I let out my breath. “So I’m in?”
    For an answer, Blue clapped her hands and asked, “What would you like your MED name to be?”
    Everyone turned to me, waiting for an answer. But I didn’t want to surrender Ellie.
    “How about something for the color of your eyes?” Coyote suggested. “Of course, Blue’s taken, but you could be Ocean. Or Lake. Or Sky.”
    “Sky,” I said, trying it on for size. And then more confidently. “Sky. I like that.”
    “All right, Sky,” Hawk said. “We have another mission for you. Do you know where the Hummer dealership is in Beaverton?”
    MOTHER EARTH DEFENDERS—CLAIM FOR HUMMER ARSON
    Symbolizing consumer decadence at its worst,
$1 million worth of Hummers were torched last night in
Beaverton. The firebombing of the Beaverton Hummer
dealership was meant to punish carmakers and consumers
for their love affairs with these shamelessly gas-guzzling
behemoths that destroy everything they encounter. They are
a status symbol for rich American consumers, who are killing
more people on this planet than anyone else. Sucking the
land dry, these oversized toys are at the forefront of this vile,
imperialistic culture’s caravan toward self-destruction.
We can no longer allow the rich to