Free Enemy of Gideon by Melissa McGovern Taylor

to keep the tears at bay. “Why are you doing this? Why did you join them?”
    “You’ll understand one day. You have to understand.”
    Burning fire rises in my chest. “But I don’t! I never will! I can’t understand any of it! You were a loyal citizen! How could you let them brainwash you?”
    She shakes her head. “I promise you’ll find the answers if you seek them. Just seek them out.”
    “Where? How?” Now the tears flow. “They’re going to kill you.”
    “You have to understand,” she says. “What I know now, what I have inside of me, is worth dying for.”

 
     
    CHAPTER SEVEN
    T he inspiration for sketches doesn’t come. I can usually escape into my sketchbook, penciling the world around me into permanent images, but I haven’t sketched anything in a week. Not since I saw Petra in that horrible, white room.
    As I lean over my sketchbook in the school courtyard, I stare at the last image I drew, Arkin Pettigrew. This sketch shows him sitting on the bleachers in the gymnasium. I flip back another page and find Arkin’s face, his eyes staring into my own. I flip back yet again and find him with his backpack slung over his shoulder in the school hallway. I’ve never drawn a single person this many times. Now I struggle to look at him.
    CE scheduled an execution date for Petra, and I blame Arkin and his people. If they hadn’t exposed her to that book, my sister’s last breath wouldn’t be scheduled for March 22. Now a once meaningless date will be forever etched into my memory, and Petra has four weeks to live. Mom and I won’t be allowed to attend nor will Petra’s body be relinquished for burial. CE cremate enemies of Gideon and dump their ashes out with the trash. The very thought makes me sick to my stomach.
    Everyday after work, Mom goes to CE headquarters. She begs and pleads. She tries to make deals. Nothing works.
    “I need to speak to you,” Arkin whispers behind me.
    I close my sketchbook, but I don’t turn to look back. “What?”
    He walks around the courtyard bench and sits close beside me. The chilly wind carries his cologne across my nostrils. I’ve missed the scent. Despite everything, I miss his friendship, fake or not.
    “Have you been reading?” he whispers.
    The book, The Holy Bible , comes to mind. Yes, I’ve read it for hours each night, devouring every word. Something in that book has to show me what Petra has been talking about. Thus far, I only have more questions.
    I nod at him. I’ve never seen him so pale, so tired from restless nights, like me.
    “It’s a lot to take in,” he says. “I want to answer your questions. Can we meet at the same place again, same time?”
    “Why are you doing this? Why my sister? Why me ?”
    He shakes his head. “I can’t tell you that. Not yet, but I promise there’s a very good reason.”
    I avert my eyes again, a weight sinking into my chest. “I’ll be there.”
    “Be careful,” he whispers. “They’re watching you.”
     
    ►▼◄
     
    I come home to an empty apartment after school and leave an empty apartment at 5:45. I’ve spent the hours in between writing down every question I have about this strange book and the contents I’ve read so far. Arkin has a lot of explaining to do to r egain my trust.
    Darkness blankets Gideon as I follow the street lamps into the Blind Spot. Remembering his warning, I take a different route this time, a longer one which might make me less conspicuous.
    After I enter the Blind Spot, I get back on the original route and arrive at the building with no trouble. Inside, Arkin sits on a wooden crate across from several lit candles.
    He smiles at me. “Thank God you came.”
    “Who is this ‘God’ of yours?” I ask.
    He pats the crate beside him. “Sit down, and I’ll tell you.”
    I take the seat without hesitation and pull the list of questions from my pocket.
    “Let me see your wristband,” he says, offering his hand.
    “Why?”
    “In case you’re being