Free The Juvie Three by Gordon Korman Page A

promises.
    Gecko is not convinced, and says so.
    Arjay shrugs. “He’s got nowhere to go.”
    Still, when the boy from Chicago returns forty minutes later, the relief in the apartment is palpable.
    Terence picks up on the vibe. “You thought I was going to blow.” He sets the pizza box on the kitchen table. “Thought so myself for a while.”
    The steaming pie sits untouched. Everyone is starving; no one has an appetite.
    Five a.m. Gecko asks the question that’s on everyone’s mind. “What if Healy doesn’t call?” He doesn’t say what his brain won’t stop screaming: What if he’s dead? There are other possibilities. He could still be unconscious. He could have no access to a phone.
    Or he could be dead. Please, God, don’t let him be dead!
    Arjay thinks it over. “Our plan was to act like everything’s normal. That’s still on.”
    â€œYou mean go to school?” Gecko asks.
    Terence makes a face. “I hardly ever went to school when my old man chased me down the street with a shovel. You expect me to go voluntarily ?”
    â€œIf we ditch, it gets reported to Ms. Vaughn,” Arjay points out. “She may be the least of our problems now, but she can still put us behind bars.”
    â€œWhat about garbage picking and therapy?” Terence stares at the big boy. “Not those too?”
    Arjay sucks in a deep breath. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. For all we know, Healy’s on his way home right now. But until he’s back, we’re obedient little robots, doing everything we’re programmed to.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
    The students of freshman chemistry gradually get used to Gecko. Even Diego advances to the point where he can talk to his lab partner without having to physically hold down his breakfast. Gecko doesn’t blame him for his meek personality. The poor kid seems to have a reputation as a target among some of the older jocks at school. He lives in constant fear of being used as a punching bag by a gaggle of Neanderthals. Small wonder he didn’t jump for joy at the prospect of working alongside a Social Services case. For all he knew, Gecko would be even worse.
    Gecko is sympathetic, but he’s got problems of his own to worry about. Starting today, he’s technically a fugitive. No Healy, no custody. From a legal standpoint, he’s an escaped convict, and that changes everything. The familiar halls of Walker High suddenly seem alien. The whole city does. New York is the same, but everything is different about Gecko’s place there.
    â€œDiego,” calls the teacher. “Do me a favor? I need you to run down and ask the custodian for more paradichlorobenzene.”
    Diego turns pale, and Gecko understands why. The custodian’s office is by the gym, right smack in the middle of the phys ed wing. For Diego, that’s like a walk through hostile territory with a bull’s-eye on his forehead.
    â€œI’ll go,” Gecko volunteers. It’s not as if he’s learning anything today. So far, his fevered brain hasn’t conjured up a single thought that isn’t of Douglas Healy.
    Diego regards him gratefully.
    â€œThanks,” the teacher tells him. “Ask for mothballs.”
    â€œMothballs?” Gecko repeats. “I thought you wanted para—” His tongue twists.
    â€œMothballs are paradichlorobenzene,” she explains.
    â€œTypical,” Diego grumbles, making notes. “They pretend we’re learning high-level science, and—” He looks up to see his lab partner dashing out the classroom door.
    Gecko has made a split-second decision. Freshman chemistry will have to wait for its paradichlorobenzene.
    He’s on his way to Yorkville Medical Center.
    â€œI’m here to see my uncle,” he tells the receptionist. “Douglas Healy.”
    â€œHealy—H-E-A?” Long fingernails click at a