Free Emancipated by M. G. Reyes

got sick. She didn’t want to get in the car for that twisty ride. She begged the hosts to let us kids stay over. They found us a room, put a cot in there for me, next to the couch where the chaperone slept. They sent me to bed around nine.”
    â€œThe chaperone didn’t wake up?”
    â€œSomeone gave her some medicine. I guess it made her sleepy. She was snoring after an hour. I slept for a bit. Sometime in the middle of the night, I got up to pee.”
    â€œYou should have woken the chaperone.”
    The girl released a deep sigh. “Yeah. You don’t know how much I wish I had.”

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    HarperCollins Publishers
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PAOLO
    VENICE BEACH, FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 27
    â€œWe should totally have a party.”
    John-Michael had been the first to say it, but Paolo knew it was on everyone’s minds. When they’d first discussed the idea, they’d been living in the Venice Beach house for almost a month, but hadn’t had a chance to truly celebrate their freedom.
    Paolo dropped a cushion onto the checkerboard-patterned rug between the green futon and red easy chair. He rested his feet on the cushion and put his Diet Dr Pepper on the round coffee table that occupied the space between the sofa and the French windows.
    â€œI’m in,” he said.
    Maya had been the only one who didn’t look excited about the idea. But then again, since she’d settled into the routine in the house, Maya hadn’t done much except eat, go to school, and disappear behind her computer screen, forever working on the code for her app.
    Paolo could understand. He’d become seriously addicted to World of Warcraft when he was twelve years old, and ended up heading a guild and sitting on a pile of WoW gold. He’d done it by playing day and night, often without his parents’ knowledge. He was soft and flabby in those days, still waiting for the final push into puberty. WoW had given him another life, one in which he was powerful and gave orders—probably to adults. That thought he’d enjoyed even more. When his parents found out, they’d forced him to quit cold turkey and increased his tennis lessons from one hour a week to five. The weight had dropped off him; he’d thrown all that frustration into his tennis game. Since then, Paolo hadn’t let himself near anykind of computer game. It was just too risky.
    He understood the kick that came from creating something on a screen. It wasn’t real and yet it was .
    They’d delayed the party awhile. The first three weeks, Candace’s mom had made a habit of dropping by unannounced to check up on the house. Lucy and Maya were particularly wary—probably worried that they were one phone call away from being dragged back home.
    The housemates had agreed to let things settle down, prove themselves capable of getting to school every day, not starving to death, and not letting the house get too untidy.
    The not starving to death bit had been easy enough—everyone in the house seemed to know how to make a sandwich or a salad. Paolo and Maya were pretty good with eggs. Maya made huevos rancheros and Mexican omelets that had the others begging for a taste. John-Michael, however, turned out to be an amazing cook. He never ate the same sandwich twice and would create combinations that made the others go ewwww —until they tried them.
    Keeping the house tidy was harder. If Paolo hadn’t been a neat freak, it might have been impossible. He’d persuaded the girls and John-Michael to operate a rotating system for chores. Only Lucy had been reluctant to take part.
    â€œYou’re my mom now?”
    â€œHe’s nicer than my mom,” Candace had warned. “She threatened me with pop-ins.”
    They’d had less than fourteen minutes’ notice of the first spot check—a breezy text from Katelyn about a