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“We’re not going to take the test, Cassel,” Daneca says.
“No,” I say. “No. You should. Both of you. Then you can call someone for Lila and me when you get out.”
I have no doubt that Zacharov’s lawyers will have Lila out of jail within moments. Me? Well, it’ll take Grandad a little longer, but if the Feds want me to hunt for their lead, they’re going to have to help out.
“But they’re going to know that you’re both—,” Sam starts.
“That’s the beauty of the test,” Lila says. “The only people afraid to take it are people with something to hide.”
“It’s not legal to force us,” Daneca says, shaking her head. “We’re being held unlawfully. We weren’t properly booked or Mirandized. We didn’t commit any crime. This is a clear case of the government exploiting its power for its own anti-worker agenda.”
“You think?” I sit down next to Lila on the floor. But despite my flippant answer, it’s impossible not to be impressed with Daneca. She’s never been in trouble before, and even in jail, she cares about what’s right.
“You’re shaking,” Lila says softly, putting her gloved hand on my arm.
I’m surprised. I look down at my hands like I no longer remember to whom they belong. The knuckles of my left glove are scuffed from throwing that punch. Scuffed and trembling.
“Sam,” I say, trying to steady myself. “You, at least, don’t have to stay.”
Sam looks at me and turns to Daneca. “I know you want to do the right thing, but if we don’t agree to get tested, what happens next?” He lowers his voice. “What if they stop asking?”
“What if they don’t let us out, even after they test us?” Daneca says. “I’m not doing it. It’s against absolutely everything I believe in.”
“You think I don’t know it’s wrong?” Sam snaps. “You don’t think I get that this is unfair? That it sucks?”
I don’t want them to fight. Not over this.
“Forget it,” I say loudly, trying to sound like I know what I’m talking about. “Let’s just wait. They’re going to let us out soon. They’ve got to. Like Daneca said, they didn’t really book us. We’re going to be fine.”
We lapse into an uneasy silence.
An hour later, just as panic begins to gnaw my gut, just when I’m ready to admit that I’m wrong and they’re going to let us rot in here, just as I’m about to bang on the door and beg to see Agent Jones, a cop comes in and tells us we’re free to go. No explanation. We’re just shown the door.
The car’s as we left it, except for the driver-side mirror, which is cracked.
We get back to Wallingford by ten. As we cross the quad, I have the strange feeling that we’ve been gone for days instead of just a couple of hours. We’re too late for study hall, but in time for in-room check.
“I heard Ramirez let you boys go to that protest,” Mr. Pascoli says, giving me a suspicious look. “How was it?”
“We decided to drive down to the beach instead,” says Sam. “Good thing too. I hear the march got really out of control.” His cheeks color a little as he speaks, like he’s ashamed of lying.
He doesn’t say anything else about it.
By lights-out it’s as if the whole thing never happened.
* * *
Friday afternoon I’m sitting in the back of physics class, staring at the quiz in front of me. I am concentrating on the problem of a girl increasing the amplitude of a swing’s oscillations by moving her legs along with the motion. I am not sure if this is an example of resonance, wave transmission, or something else that I’ve forgotten. The only thing that I am sure of is that I am going to fail this quiz.
I’m filling in one of those multiple-choice bubbles, my pencil going around and around in a circle, when Megan Tilman screams. My pencil streaks across the paper, making a line of graphite.
“Ms. Tilman,” Dr. Jonahdab says, looking up from her desk. “What is the matter?”
Megan is clutching her chest and staring at Daneca, who’s one desk over from her. “My luck amulet broke. It snapped in half.”
Gasps run through the class.
“You worked me, didn’t you?” Megan says.
