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My lawyer—a woman named Arna with thick glasses and a tight ponytail—leaned toward me. “For once, do not say you deserve to be in prison. That’s all I ask.”
“What’s going on?” I said. “This—”
“Silence, please,” shouted a high-pitched voice.
I shot an annoyed look at the judge and realized there wasn’t a single judge behind the other desk. It was three people instead, and none of them wore black robes.
I glanced behind me at the crowd. Was I on some TV show? What was happening? There were no cameras, though.
The person with the high voice said, “We will now begin the parole hearing for Alyssa Beaver.”
I whipped back to the front. “Wait, what?”
“Shhh,” Arna said, then leaned in close again. “Half the town has been protesting at city hall for this hearing. Don’t mess it up.”
My brows shot up like furry rockets. This had to be a dream. Did the guards tase me into unconsciousness after I choked out Volos?
“Ms. Beaver,” the parole board person continued. “We have reviewed testimony submitted by dozens of citizens who say you saved their lives. Many more have written letters expressing their gratitude for you having stopped the portal attacks that had them living in fear. Your therapist says you have made great progress and have overcome alcoholism while in prison. Is that correct?”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Yes, Your Highness. I mean, your judginess. I mean, your—”
“Just say yes,” Arna muttered, and I closed my mouth.
“All but one of the prison guards say that you were an exemplary inmate until the portal attacks.”
Really, only one disliked me still? Why? But I took my lawyer’s advice and stayed quiet.
“Ramrod Johnson, who is still at large, sent a video saying he orchestrated the prison break and forced you to join him under threat of violence.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. He had sacrificed himself for me again.
“Therefore, in light of your bravery and your service to Silver Springs and its citizens, this board grants you early parole. You will serve the remainder of your sentence in the community; you are not to leave the state, and you will check in with a parole officer and therapist weekly. Congratulations.”
The crowd erupted into cheers. Someone was shaking my shoulder, but I just gaped at the parole board.
“What was that?” I said, but no one heard me over the shouting.
Jag wrapped his arms around my shoulders and kissed my hair.
“You have to run now,” I told him.
He laughed and shook his head. “We all got parole!” He pointed, and I followed his finger to Elliot, who held up a paper and smiled.
Ah, it was his parole conditions.
“We turned ourselves in after you were arrested,” Jag explained.
“Dumbasses,” I said.
He chuckled. “We were held in the town jail because we were deemed not dangerous. They let us out last week. Everyone in town has been demanding your release too!”
How? Why? “Huh?” I said.
Arna poked my arm, and I turned to her. “We have to fill in some paperwork before you’re free.”
I nodded and stood. Thanks to all the magic in the world the lawyer was there, because I was too dazed to understand the paperwork. I felt like I was moving through a dream or walking underwater, like when I snuck onto yachts to rob them.
Oh yeah, don’t mention that,I reminded myself.
