Free Rush by Jonathan Friesen Page A

slowly, and I continue. “I’m sure cutting brush was a thrill for you, but it takes a lot more for me.”
    â€œI know.” He pushes back from the desk and stands. “So now, tragically, there’s an opening on Mox’s team for a rappeller. I thought dropping out of a helicopter might suit. I did make some calls. I did open the door for you. Richardson is willing to consider it. Do you want it?” Dad lowers his gaze and smiles. It’s a strange grin. I-know-something and I’d-be-proud all wrapped up together.
    â€œYou’re giving me a choice?” I run both hands through my hair. “You could really get me in? Even over Mox?”
    He shrugs. “Possible.” Dad walks toward the door, yawns and stretches. “Thought I’d let you know.” He starts to whistle and walks out of the room. Slimy trickster. He knows he has me.
    Â 
    I BURST INTO THE BROCKTON Library, race up to Ethel at the info desk. She smacks her gum and checks bright red nails and gabs about the spa on her cell.
    A minute of finger drumming later, she peeks at me and tongues the inside of her cheek.
    â€œJust one minute, Frances.” She covers the mouthpiece and raises both eyebrows.
    â€œI need to talk to—”
    â€œConference room two.” She leans forward and slaps her hand on mine. “I didn’t tell you.”
    â€œThanks!” I cruise past her, around the corner, and throw open the door.
    â€œYou’ll never guess what just opened up for—”
    Salome stands; six others don’t look too pleased.
    Mr. Keating, advisor to the school paper, lowers his head and adjusts his glasses on their perch on the tip of his nose. “Another accident, I presume.”
    I nod and peek at Salome. My grin even feels goofy. “You’re a good presumer.”
    Chris Rollins, a hyperactive junior, grabs his pen and starts scribbling my quote on his pad.
    Mr. K. rolls his eyes, taps his watch and sighs. “Two minutes, Salome.”
    She hurries out, shuts the door behind her. “You better have a good one. ‘Evolution Debunked!’ or ‘Brockton High Attacked by Killer Bees’ or—”
    â€œHow about, ‘Town Idiot Gets Shot at Redemption from Most Unlikely Source.’”
    She scrunches her nose. “I like it. Punchy. And the subtitle?”
    â€œâ€˜Jake Finally Comes to His Senses.’”
    Salome stares at me and bites her lip gently. “I’ll read on. Killer lead?”
    I scratch my head. “Let’s see. For too many years, Jake King, aka idiot, has fought against the undeniable, ignoring what stood right in front of him.”
    Salome lowers her pad. “If you’re making this up, Jake, you stop right here.”
    â€œTake it to the press. I’ll even give you another source so you can check my story. Dad.”
    â€œYou told your dad how you feel?” Her eyes grow big, sparkle like they haven’t in months.
    â€œCome to think of it, he’s probably been onto this story a long time.”
    The door opens behind her and Mr. K. pops his head out. “We need you back in here. We’re discussing your prom-styles piece.”
    â€œWorking on it right now,” she says, pushes the door shut with her foot.
    She puts her arms on my shoulders and steps way close. “Read me the last paragraph. Read it slow, and read it clear.”
    I grab her waist and watch her eyes twinkle. She’s so pumped for me.
    â€œI’ve settled it in here.” I point to my head. “I belong on Mox’s rappelling crew.”

CHAPTER 12
    ROCKFORD . Three hundred miles due north. Five hours to fed headquarters.
    It’s plenty of time to think over my talk with Salome three days previous. I replay the interchange over and over. Her excitement. Her twinkle. Our embrace.
    Her slap across my cheek before she silently exited the library.
    Of course, she hates this: she already thinks