Free If the Witness Lied by Caroline B. Cooney Page B

in the woods with me and spray a tree? Like beagles?”
    Tris is thrilled. He opens his mouth to shout “Yes!” but Jack puts up a finger. “Ssshhh. It’s a secret. Librarians don’t like it. We have to tiptoe.”
    Tris lets Jack swing him down from the tree house and together they sneak out of the library to return Madison’s message and piss on a few trees. Jack can think of a few people he’d like to piss on.
    *   *   *
    Smithy stares out the window. The route is low on scenery—the backs of warehouses and a gravel pit. But the road home is always beautiful. Even when you’re scared of home.
    Smithy holds her cell phone like a pet, stroking it, soothed by it. Maybe she’ll text her brother and sister. During the next passing period between classes, they’ll check for messages. Then they’ll know she’s on her way. They’ll have time to think about it, get ready for it. And maybe be glad about it.
    The train crosses Rhode Island. In a minute, Smithy will be in Connecticut.
    The train does not stop at her own town. She can get off in Saybrook, which comes first, or ride past her town and get off in New Haven. Either way means a fifteen- or twenty-minute drive to her house. She’ll need a ride. She has to call Cheryl.
    The train is now in Connecticut. Smithy is breathing hard, as if approaching a finish line where there will be a ribbon to break.
    We can be a normal family, she tells herself. Well, okay, we can be a family.
    She’s smiling when the phone rings.
    It’s Cheryl.

M ADISON STEELS HERSELF TO WADE THROUGH THE CROWD OF staring strangers at the bottom of the stairs. In their midst, Cheryl is bursting with delight. “Guess what, Madison! Smithy’s on her way home! I talked to the headmistress and just got off the phone with Smithy herself. Smithy’s on the train! She is so happy. She agrees that we’re ready for a breakthrough. She can’t wait to get here and be part of this wonderful forward motion.”
    You would think that the two deserting sisters would have stayed in touch. But what they’ve done is so wrong, they can’t admit it to anyone—each other least of all. Madison, home at last, admits she’s been looking for an excuse to come back. Dad’s birthday and a stranger’s Jeep sent the message she’d been wanting—go home. Of course Smithy feels the same.
    But
this
excuse? All four children in front of cameras? Recording every sad, angry, mixed-up thought? Betraying their mother and father? Admitting how they feel (how
do
they feel?) about their baby brother?
    She imagines Cheryl emceeing. Making sure her new wall colors are presented in the best light. Going to the mall, shopping for the clothing in which she will parade Tristan Fountain.
    Madison wants to question Cheryl, preferably using instruments of torture. Are they paying you? Or is this so much fun that you’re paying them?
    The TV people balloon with delight. Today they will have their hearts’ desire—two missing sisters within camera range.
    The fat old phone below the large mirror is ringing again. Cheryl snatches it up. Immediately her face distorts with anger. “Madison said what? Mrs. Griz, I apologize for that. Madison has no right to interfere. Of course the producer and I will be there, just as planned. I’m so sorry about your conversation. Trissy’s sister is at such a difficult stage.”
    Trissy?
    Rhymes with “prissy” and “sissy”?
    For the thousandth time, Madison wonders how God could let Cheryl live instead of Mom.
    Cheryl covers the phone and hisses, “How dare you, Madison? You don’t even live here!”
    Mrs. Griz continues talking, so relieved she still has a chance to be on TV that she’s shouting. Everybody hears her say, “I’ve alerted the staff and we’re so excited!”
    Rule: TV cameras are always welcome. That’s where power lies. In television. It comes, it records, it airs, it lasts. A little boy caught inside television has nowhere to run. And there’s nothing Madison