Free yolo by Sam Jones Page A

think Liz will find another phone to use,” said Emily.
    â€œCan’t we at least call Chestnut’s phone from her phone and—”
    Emily knew Brandon was still talking, but that’s as far as she heard that sentence. Whatever his reasoning, Brandon continued to pitch ways of reuniting Liz and her phone, andfor each one Ana responded with a reason why that was a bad idea. Any other time Emily might have pointed out with more than a little bit of arrogance that Ana was currently holding a small dog stolen from a gas station, and was surely herself in the running for Bad Idea of the Decade, but this time she was unable to even utter a syllable. Her jaw became locked in terror, and suddenly, instead of speeding down the highway in a midsize SUV, Emily had the sensation that she was plummeting down the first drop of a roller coaster.
    Brandon must’ve caught a glimpse of her eyes in the rearview mirror, because she heard him yelling her name: “Emily? Emily? Are you okay? EMILY!”
    By that time Brandon had followed her gaze out the back windshield, and slowly, haltingly, he turned around and stared down the highway behind them. He began to softly repeat a string of curses so quietly and with such slow determination that it almost sounded like he was reciting poetry or an ancient incantation of some kind.
    Ana was completely fixated on Pickles, so she wasn’t aware of what was happening until the entire car was bathed in red and blue light, and the sound of everything else was drowned out by sirens.
    â€œEmily!” she shrieked. “What is happening?”
    â€œIt appears we’ve been caught,” she said, and as she did, a strange sense of calm washed over her.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Ana was having trouble making sense of the events at hand.
    â€œI mean, it looks as if we won’t be making it to the party,” said Emily.
    â€œOf course we will,” shouted Brandon. “Just step on it.”
    â€œGive me a break, Brandon.” Emily said this evenly and quietly. It seemed to rattle Brandon that she was so even-keeled in the face of impending doom.
    â€œWhatever you do, don’t pull over!” he yelled.
    â€œWhat, and add ‘evading arrest’ to the charges?” Emily asked. “Not a chance. Besides, he’s already got my license plate. Even if I did floor it now, he’d have every patrol car in a ten-mile radius on our tail in thirty seconds.” Emily signaled and pulled onto the shoulder of the road, slowing to a stop, then putting the car into park.
    In the rearview mirror she saw a short stubby man with fingers like sausages step out of the cruiser, hitch up his pants, and walk slowly toward her window. She wasn’t sure if she should dig out her registration and license now, or wait until he knocked on her window. She wasn’t sure if she should try to text her father from the car, or wait and make him her one phone call at whatever jail they were taken to for the night. Emily wasn’t sure of anything, really. Not anymore.

chapter 12
    â€œLicense and registration.”
    It was a command, not a question. Emily pulled out her wallet, and got the registration and insurance card out of the glove compartment. Her dad had put all the documents together in a little canvas folder so she wouldn’t have to dig for them. Emily smiled as she thought about her “hang loose” dad being organized about anything at all.
    â€œSomethin’ funny, young lady?” the cop asked. He had a shiny star pinned to his uniform that read ANDERS .
    â€œNo, sir,” said Emily, wiping the smile off her face. “Is something the matter, officer?” The minute she said these words, she felt like she was in a movie from the 1950s.
    â€œAs a matter of fact there is.”
    Without another word, the cop turned back around and marched back to his cruiser. Emily could hear his radio squawking.
    â€œHoly shit ,”