Free Blood & Flowers by Penny Blubaugh

“They’re—um—they’re not necessarily…”
    She trailed away. Floss sighed and said, “They’re hard to deal with.”
    â€œHard to deal with” couldn’t be all. I moved my head back and forth between the two of them. Just when I’d decided to ask for more clarification, Nicholas walked through the front door. I don’t think he registered the peculiar huddle we were in because the first thing he did was to shoot both arms up in a V-for-Victory gesture and say “Finished! Last final.”
    We all looked at him. Somehow, in my mind, finals seemed so mundane after Knobbe III’s story, after my conversation with Floss, after Lucia and the trolls. But Nicholas was obviously expecting something, so I said, “Congratulations.” Even I thought it sounded weak.
    He must have really seen the huddle in the corner then because he said, “What’s going on?” in a cautious voice, like someone approaching a nervous stray.
    I glanced toward the door where Lucia had come out. Was Max back there, ear to the wall? Was Tonio?At this point, did it even matter? Two-thirds of the Outlaws were here, and most of them already knew what had happened. And maybe, I thought in a sudden burst of optimism, what Knobbe had said about street rumors, the kind that could get us all in trouble, was nothing, after all.
    Everyone was looking at me. Too many eyes.
    â€œWe should tell him.” Lucia was the one who spoke. “We all need to know, after all.”
    I held on to the optimistic streak that had brushed past me. “You know, maybe it’s really nothing. Maybe I—maybe we—overreacted.”
    Floss snorted. Even Lucia widened her eyes as if to say You must be kidding me while Floss added, “Yeah. Right.”
    Nicholas looked from face to face and finally settled. “Persia?” he asked.
    This was when Tonio charged into the room, Max on his heels. Tonio’s boots were so loud they were probably knocking plaster off the ceilings of the apartment below.
    â€œLying little bastard,” Tonio muttered. “Damnhim straight to hell on a one-way ticket.”
    He was holding an official-looking envelope in his hand, one of those big white ones with many markings that always send fear through your heart when they show up in your mail. The envelope fluttered in the breeze Tonio created, flapping its ends like a trapped seagull beating its wings.
    Max moved with tiny, quiet steps, not like Max at all. He looked like he was trying to be helpful and solicitous and stay out of the way, all at the same time.
    Nicholas watched everything with the attention he’d give a good movie. His eyes got bigger and bigger. Those eyes found me again and once more he said, “Persia?”
    â€œNicholas,” Tonio snapped at exactly the same moment, “you know law. Tell me if this forlorn piece of inflammatory speech says what I think it says.” And he thrust the envelope at Nicholas.
    Floss was moving closer to Tonio in a slow, steady way. It was as if she were offering moral support by her presence alone. Lucia looked ready to cry. And I just looked from Nicholas to Tonio, from the letter toMax, from Lucia to Floss.
    Nicholas took the envelope and held it between his thumb and forefinger, arm straight out. He seemed dubious.
    â€œWell?” Tonio snapped again. This time he sounded like a quick crack of thunder.
    â€œI haven’t read it yet,” Nicholas pointed out. “The way everybody’s acting, I’m afraid to.”
    Tonio snapped his eyes. I swear, I almost heard them close and reopen like old wooden shutters. “Read the fucking thing.”
    Lucia gasped and I coughed. Out of all of us, Tonio was the one who swore the least. Even Lucia beat him.
    Tonio grimaced and added, “Please.”
    Nicholas read. He read for what seemed like a very long time. When he finally looked up he said, “Illegal and