Free Unwind by Neal Shusterman

if they paid off the police to get you back by killing the kidnappers . . . and to do it quietly, so no one ever knew it happened?”
    Connor looks to Lev, hoping the kid will laugh at the very suggestion, telling them that his parents would never, ever do such a terrible thing. Lev, however, is curiously silent about it as he considers the possibility.
    And at that moment two things happen. A police car turns onto the street, and somewhere very close by, a baby begins to cry.
    *   *   *
    Run!
    This is the first thought in Connor’s mind, his first instinct, but Risa grabs his arm tightly the moment she sees the police car, and it makes him hesitate. Connor knows hesitation can mean the difference between life and death in dire situations. But not today. Today it gives him enough time to do something Connor rarely does in an emergency. He goes beyond his first thought, and processes his second thought:
    Running will attract attention.
    He forces his feet to stay in one place, and takes a quick moment to assess their surroundings. Cars are starting in driveways as people head off to work. Somewhere a baby is crying. High-school-aged kids are gathered on a corner across the street, talking, pushing each other, laughing. As he looks to Risa, he can tell they’re both of one mind, even before she says, “Bus stop!”
    The patrol car rolls leisurely down the street. Leisurely, that is, to someone who has nothing to hide, but to Connor its slow pace is menacing. There’s no way of telling if these officers are looking for them or just on a routine patrol. Again, he fights down the urge to run.
    He and Risa turn their backs to the police car, ready to stride off inconspicuously toward the bus stop, but Lev is not with the program. He faces the wrong way, staring straight at the approaching cop car.
    â€œWhat, are you nuts?” Connor grabs his shoulder and forces him around. “Just do what we do, and act natural.”
    A school bus approaches from the other direction. The kids at the corner begin gathering their things. Now, at last, there’s permission to run without looking out of place. Connor begins it, taking a few strides ahead of Risa and Lev, then turns back, calling with a calculated whine, “C’mon, you guys—we’re gonna miss the bus again!”
    The cop car’s right beside them now. Connor keeps his back to it and doesn’t turn to see if the officers inside are watching them. If they are, hopefully they’ll just hear the conversation and assume this is normal morning mayhem, and not think twice. Lev’s version of “acting natural” is walking with wide eyes and arms stiff by his side like he’s crossing a minefield. So much for being inconspicuous. “Do you have to walk so slow?” Connor yells. “If I get another tardy, I’ll get detention.”
    The squad car rolls past them. Up ahead, the bus nears the stop. Connor, Risa, and Lev hurry across the street toward it—all part of the charade, just in case the cops are watching them through their rearview mirror. Of course, thinks Connor, it could backfire on them, and the cops could cite them for jaywalking.
    â€œAre we really going to get on the bus?” asks Lev.
    â€œOf course not,” says Risa.
    Now Connor dares to glance at the cop car. Its blinker is on. It’s going to turn the corner, and once it does, they’ll be safe. . . . But then the school bus stops and turns on its blinking red lights as it opens its door—and anyone who’s ever ridden a school bus knows that when those red lights start blinking, all traffic around them must stop and wait until the bus moves on.
    The cop car comes to a halt a dozen yards short of the corner, waiting until the bus is finished loading. That means that the cop car will still be sitting right there when the bus pulls away. “We’re screwed,” Connor says.