Free Inquest by DelSheree Gladden

of one of the corners of his mouth is the only
indication that he’s joking. Again, my stress seems to lighten by
the smallest degree.
    “Well, if you
count all the times I’ve almost died purely by accident or
stupidity, or getting in trouble with Guardians, then yeah, it
happens pretty regularly. But if we’re just talking about homicidal
boyfriends and Guardians, that was a new one even for me. Although
I suppose it probably won’t be the last.” Despite the truth of
that, I find myself smiling, too.
    Milo’s smile
widens slightly. “Maybe you should take to wearing one of those dog
collars with the spikes to fend off a repeat of that. It’s a little
Goth, but with your dark hair and pale skin, I think you could
probably pull it off.”
    “I’ll have to
think about that one,” I say with a laugh.
    “What did you
mean about getting in trouble with the Guardians?” Milo asks.
    I shrug.
“Sneaking out at night, mostly. If my mom bothered to check on me
and found me gone, she’d call them in to haul me back.”
    “You said
mostly. What’s the rest of the reason?”
    “Not going
with them willingly when they found me.”
    Milo nods in
understanding, and maybe even with a hint of approval.
    We reach a
dark blue Toyota Corolla and Milo pauses. It must be his car. He
doesn’t move to get in it right away, but I feel like my brief
moment of normalcy is quickly drawing to an end. Milo is strange
and a little grimy, but he’s still talking to me. And whether that
makes him as crazy as Mr. Walters, or just weird, it’s hard to walk
away from him. But I have to. I raise my hand to give him a casual
wave before I say goodbye, but a sudden change in his expression
stops me.
    “You know how
I said everybody knows about you by now?” he asks.
    “Yeah,” I say
slowly.
    He looks past
me. “Well, I was wrong. Only everyone at school knows. But five
minutes from now the entire world is going to know.”
    “What are you
talking about?” I ask.
    Milo’s gaze
slides past me. My stomach lurches and plummets to my shoelaces. I
don’t want to turn around, but my body moves without my consent.
Dozens of panel vans are tearing into the parking lot behind us.
Big, bold letters of television and radio stations are plastered on
their sides. These aren’t just the local flunkie reporters, either.
CNN, Fox News, CNBC, CBS News, and every other major news outlet
are here. For me.
    This is the
first step in Howe’s plan to make the entire world hate me.
    I turn back to
Milo in a panic but he only shrugs and leans against the back of
the trunk. “Word was going to get out eventually, I guess. That was
faster than I thought.”
    “What do I
do?” I ask.
    “I don’t know.
Talk to them?”
    I grunt my
disapproval.
    “Then don’t
talk to them. They’ll probably follow you home. Stake out your
house, maybe. Hound you until you do talk to them. You can run, but
I bet they find you pretty quickly. Most reporters are either
Concealers or Visionaries. That’s why they’re so good.”
    I have a quick
flash of wonder about whether Jen will have a talent for Vision or
Concealment before the rolling sound of a wave of reporters
barreling toward me makes me want to cry. Milo is right,
unfortunately. They’re not going to go away even if I run. This day
just keeps getting better and better. Milo settles himself on the
hood of his Corolla so his face is conspicuously turned away from
the cameras and crosses his arms over his chest.
    He may be safe
from the viewers, but not from me. I can still see at least half of
his expression. He takes on a look of mild interest in what is
about to happen, but I get the impression he’s keeping a close eye
on me and the reporters. It’s an odd sensation coming from him, but
I’ll take whatever I can get at this point. Frowning intently, I
turn away from him and face the onslaught. The bubbling thrill of a
chase reaching its happy, or unhappy, end if you’re me, is
stretched tightly across