Among the Free

What percentage of the crowd didn't boo third children last night? He wondered. He didn't know. He couldn't know. Math problems didn't allow for leaps of faith, but sometimes that's what you had to take in real life.

'Hope you're good at jumping,' he muttered to Jenny, and went to get her saddle.

Chapter Thirty-One

Luke sat atop Jenny's back, high off the ground. He'd never actually ridden a horse before, just cleaned out their stalls and groomed them and fed them and led them around. His imagination hadn't allowed for how wobbly and unsteady he'd feel on horseback, as if any minute now Jenny might simply dart out from underneath him and let him go crashing to the ground.

'You wouldn't do that to me, would you, girl?' Luke asked nervously.

It would help if he could hold on with both hands, but he'd gotten scared that the security guards would recognize him. So he had the quilt draped over his head, with his left hand clutching it tight at his throat. That left just his right hand for grasping the reins. He flicked them, the way he'd seen the Population Police officers do.

'Let's do this, okay?' he said, trying to sound authoritative and strong, as if it mattered that he could fool a horse.

Jenny glanced back at him doubtfully, then took a few halting steps forward. Maybe it did matter how forcefully he gave his commands.

'You're going to have to go faster than that,' Luke said, and flicked the reins again.

This time Jenny took him seriously, and she lunged forward, out the stable door. It was all Luke could do to hang on. Making his plans, he'd imagined Jenny galloping gracefully across the lawn, the crowd parting easily before her, everyone struck dumb with awe. What actually happened was that he had to duck to keep from being knocked off by tree branches, and then he had to yank his leg away from someone who tried to grab him. And then it looked like Jenny's hooves were going to land right on top of a little girl, but the girl's mother snatched her away at the last minute. And everyone was screaming, screaming so loudly that it terrified Jenny and she raced through the crowd even faster, causing even more narrow misses.

And then, suddenly, it was time for the leap.

Jenny was a smart horse — she tried to veer to the side, alongside the stage, rather than make the dangerous jump. But Luke urged her onward. He let the quilt go flying off behind him, and he took hold of the reins with both hands, holding them firm and steady, not letting Jenny face any direction but straight ahead. She tensed her muscles and sprang up, and for one terrible moment Luke was certain that he'd slide off backward and land right at the feet of the line of security guards. He grabbed onto the horn of the saddle, and he must have pulled on the reins at the same time, because Jenny slid to a halt as soon as her hooves landed.

They were on the stage.

Luke was half in and half out of the saddle, and his feet got tangled up in the stirrups as he tried to climb down. He fell in a heap on the stage, his right shoulder landing first. By the time he managed to scramble to his feet, the newscaster Philip Twinings was right beside him, screaming at him.

'Young man, you've terrified the entire crowd with that beast! You have no right—'

Luke grabbed the microphone out of Philip's hands.

'But I had to show everyone — this is a Population Police horse. They had horses to ride for fun while every- one else was starving and desperate. That had nothing to do with third children. It wasn't third children's fault, and neither was anything else the Population Police did!'

Philip didn't grab the microphone back right away.

'Ah,' he said thoughtfully. 'You should have the right to say that, up on this stage, if that's what you believe. But there's a protocol that has to be followed. You have to sign up to speak, you have to talk to our screening committee and wait your turn and not just come barreling up here, endangering lives—'

'Your screening committee would never have let me come up here, if I asked permission,' Luke interrupted. 'Don't you see what's going on? Haven't you been listening? It's all a setup, everybody saying the same thing. The only people allowed to talk now are the ones who will blame third children, not the Population Police. But it's all a lie. Third children didn't steal anyone's food. They didn't force the Population Police to beat anyone. Third children don't have any power at all.'

'How do you know that?' Philip Twinings asked.

Luke didn't plan his answer. He was just desperate. He could feel his time on the stage slipping away, as Philip Twinings reached out for the microphone, as security guards rushed toward the stage stairs.

'Because I'm a third child,' he said.

Chapter Thirty-Two

The crowd really did fall silent then. Luke thought that he could see thousands of faces with their jaws dropped, doing nothing but staring at him, Luke, now fully revealed. It was a scene straight out of his worst nightmares.

The crowd's reaction was so horrifying that it took Luke a few minutes to notice what the security guards at the front had done:

Every last one of them had pulled out a gun.

Luke froze, feeling strangely resigned. So this is how it ends, he thought. He was acutely aware of the sunshine streaming down on his head, the slight breeze ruffling his hair, the awful silence of the crowd.

And then Philip Twinings stepped in front of him, shielding Luke's body with his own.

'You will not shoot this boy,' he thundered, his voice as powerful as a prophet's. 'Or if you do, you will have to kill me first. And you will be destroying any chance our country has for a fresh start, any hope for an honest government. Put those guns away!'

Luke peeked out from behind Philip Twinings's back. The security guards seemed to be hesitating. Then one of the cameramen climbed down the stage stairs and stood right beside the line of guards, filming each one of them in turn.

'Yes!' Philip Twinings shouted. 'If you shoot, every per' son in this country will know who you are, what you've done. No more secrecy! No more hiding our crimes!'

One by one, the security guards began tucking their guns away, holding their hands up, palms out, as if to prove their innocence. The cameraman stayed close by, continuing to guard the guards.

Behind them there was a tussle in the crowd, and a woman stood up, clutching the quilt that Luke had dropped.

'I made this quilt!' she was shouting. 'It was mine.'

The word 'stolen' flew through the crowd, and whis-pers of 'of course the boy took it' turned into louder opinions: 'What do you expect from a third child?' 'It's just like all the other speakers said…'

'No, no!' The woman was screaming now. She fought her way through the crowd toward the stage. When she got to the line of security guards, they shrugged nervously, glanced at the cameraman, and let her through. With difficulty, she climbed up the front of the stage and took a microphone from an unattended stand.

'My name is Aileen Mootispaw,' she said, 'and I can tell you that the boy did not steal this quilt. It was a gift to him, from my father, when my father thought he was about to die. When he thought he could not possibly do enough to make up for informing on a third child to get food for his own family — food the Population Police never delivered.'

Luke realized with a jolt that she was talking about Eli — Eli, who had handed the quilt to him, murmuring, 'This is Aileen's handiwork.. '

'My father did not die,' Aileen continued. 'When we saw the boy with this quilt on television two nights ago, my father sent me here to find him, to make sure he was safe. So I speak on behalf of my father and myself and our