Free Ends of the Earth by Bruce Hale

staunchly. “Takes more than a little midnight raid to knock our Annie out of the action.” But his optimism was as hollow as
a lead pipe and the chicken felt like a gluey lump in his gut.
    Max’s father glanced out the window at the neon-tinged night, then turned to the group. He clasped his hands behind his back like a general surveying his troops. “So what are our
assets?”
    Mr. Vazquez made a wry face. “A couple of weapons, that laptop”—he indicated the computer on a side table—“and the clothes on our back. You?”
    “My deadly wit, a gear bag full of all the goodies I could muster, and my trusty Beretta,” said Max’s father. “If Stones joins us, we’ve got six agents, four of
them kids. That’s on our side of the equation.”
    “And on the other side?” Wyatt asked.
    “The latest security equipment, oodles of cash, enough weapons to arm several militias, squadrons of crack agents, and total ruthlessness—in short, all the might and majesty of LOTUS
in their own stronghold.”
    “Cho!” Tremaine chuckled. “Frost won’t stand a chance, mon.”

MAX’S HEART threatened to pound its way out of his chest like a Rock’em Sock’em Robot. He froze, pinned in place by Vespa’s
stare.
    “What are you doing in my toilet?” she said, standing in the doorway to her bathroom. One hand rested on her sweater-clad chest and her eyes were wide, though she didn’t seem
scared, merely surprised.
    “I, er,” Max said. Involuntarily, he glanced back the way he’d come, at the door that led to Mrs. Frost’s office, then caught himself.
    Vespa’s lips parted. “You went in
there
?” she breathed.
    As Max saw it, he had two choices: lie like a broken watch and hope she believed it, or tell the truth and hope she didn’t expose him. Given their history, he chose the lie.
    “I had to talk,” Max said, feigning embarrassment. “I, er, felt bad about how I’ve been treating you, so I came in here to wait, and—”
    She arched an eyebrow. “To wait in my loo?”
    “Er, no. In your bedroom. And then I…”
    Vespa cocked her head. “Have you stalked many girls?”
    Max blushed and looked away. “No. Never.”
    “Sneaking into someone’s bedroom when they’re away? Stalker move,” she said, the ghost of a smile playing about her lips. “I won’t say I’m not
flattered, but…”
    Vespa stepped in so close, Max could feel her breath on his face. He noticed flecks of gold in her brown eyes, and in a rush of guilty feeling, that gold reminded him of Cinnabar’s
eyes.
    “Uh,” he said. His cheeks felt warm.
    “You and I both know the truth,” she whispered.
    “We—” Max’s voice broke. “We do?”
    She nodded, and Max felt like he was standing in a garden, the smell of flowers was so strong. “You broke into my aunt’s office to spy on her,” she breathed.
    “That’s ridic—” His denial died off when Vespa laid her index finger on his lips. He’d never met a girl who did that before.
    “Shh,” she whispered. “My room is bugged. If we whisper, they’ll just think we’re having an intimate conversation. In my bedroom.”
    Max’s cheeks grew warm. “I—I’m not spying on your aunt,” he whispered, trying to stay focused.
    “For a good spy, you’re a terrible liar,” said Vespa. “But don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret.”
    Max stared into those big brown eyes. A whirlpool of feelings coursed through him—doubt, hope, worry, relief, and something else he couldn’t put a name to.
    “Max, I’m your friend.”
    “Friends don’t betray each other,” he spat, before he could stop himself.
    She winced. “They don’t. What happened before won’t happen again. I promise.”
    Max’s lips pursed. Could he really trust her? At this point, he had no choice but to pretend he could. He nodded.
    A relieved smile lit her face like sudden sunshine. “Good. Now play along with me. I don’t know if she’s got cameras in my room, but I know there’s a bug