Free The Girl in the Wall by Jacquelyn Mitchard, Daphne Benedis-Grab

talking before I think.
    “My mom named me Ariel because it means lioness of God,” I say. “She wanted me to be strong.”
    My mom was weak, both physically and mentally, and I think she hoped I’d manage the world a little better than she did in her short life.
    “That’s really powerful,” Nico says solemnly.
    Why am I telling him stuff like this? I never even think about my mom, let alone talk about her. “It’s not like it means anything. I mean, here you are working a minimum wage job and helping hold a group of high school students hostage so someone can get rich off my dad’s company. Not exactly a victory for the people.”
    His whole body seems to fold in. “I didn’t have a choice.”
    “You said that before.” I am finally feeling well enough to stand up, though my stomach feels lined with acid.
    “The people trying to get money from your dad’s company found out about us before they came and tried to recruit us to help,” he says, leaning back against the pink bathroom wall. He looks out of place in his fatigues. “Most people agreed to help for the money. But those of us who refused at first—they had other incentives for us.”
    I don’t think I want to know anymore.
    “My dad is here illegally,” he says. “He works for a family in Greenwich and if he gets reported to immigration, he’ll be deported. I could go home to El Salvador but he can’t. He was too outspoken in his politics and he made enemies in the government. If he goes home he will be killed.”
    He says it simply but the hollowness in his voice tells me how much he has thought about this, how trapped he feels.
    “I had no choice but to agree,” he says. “But I figured I’d do what my dad did back home and work from the inside to see if I could make a difference.”
    “So helping me is a difference?” I thought his motive was a crush on me but a political motive is even better—more conviction. I take a moment to drink some water, my hands cupped under the faucet. It tastes divine.
    “It’s a starting point,” he says. “What they’re doing is wrong and I want to help stop it.”
    “Great,” I say.
    “So you will help?”
    I raise an eyebrow. “Obviously.” Anything that stops this early will help Abby. In fact I realize now is the time to tell him about Abby.
    He shakes his head before I can speak. “I don’t mean just to save yourself. I mean, will you help to stop this, to save everyone if you can, even if it means making sacrifices?”
    “Yes.” I’m surprised that it stings to learn that he thinks I’m a spoiled brat who would leave everyone to die if she could save her own skin doing it, but whatever. I’m not telling him about Abby.
    “There are a few of us on the inside,” he says, suddenly sounding professional. “I think it’s better if you don’t know who they are. But we can help.”
    “Can you get a phone?” I ask. That would be the easiest and quickest way to end this.
    But Nico shakes his head. “All phones are locked away in the office. None of us has access.”
    “That sucks,” I say, thinking how much a phone could have helped.
    “But there are still things we can do. And we need to see which of the hostages will help.”
    “That makes sense.”
    “Who do you trust?” he asks simply.
    “Sera.”
    Wait, did I really just say the name of the biggest backstabber of all time? But as I think about it, I realize it’s true. I know everyone downstairs pretty well. And there’s only one person I am certain would do everything she could to stop anyone else from being hurt.
    “I’m not sure we can stop the killing at midnight,” Nico says, running a hand through his short black hair. “But—”
    “Wait, what killing?”
    His eyes are filled with sadness. “I wasn’t thinking,” he says softly. “You wouldn’t know. They are looking for you, the agents.”
    I nod, suddenly feel the acid again, burning into my stomach lining.
    “They have threatened your classmates.