The Rising Read Free Page A

Vancouver Island. It was an hour ferry ride, after catching a coach bus down to the terminal in Tsawwassen. From the ferry stop, we had a five-kilometer hike to the cabin, which was about as remote as you could get on the island.
    By the time we arrived, it was after five. The cottage was a tiny artist’s studio on a small windswept bluff overlooking the strait. There was an empty cabin about fifty meters away, and that’s where we took refuge, hunkering down in its shadow to watch the studio and wait for my grandmother to come out.
    Her car was in the drive, and a thin line of smoke rose from the wood-stove chimney, so I knew she was there. I expected her to come out at any moment. It’s a tiny studio and Grandma hates being cooped up inside as much as I do. When we came here for weekends, I’d wake to find her already gone—walking the beach or gathering berries or just sitting on the deck, drinking tea and enjoying the morning. Yet today, despite the rare break of fall sunshine, the doors never opened.
    â€œShe’s not coming out,” I said.
    This was stupid. Foolish. We should have stayed in Vancouver.
    And done what?
    That was the question, wasn’t it? And done what? Hide forever? Give up dreams of a reunion with our families and reconcile ourselves to a life on the streets? None of us suggested that. We’d sooner take our chances with the St. Clouds and the Nasts. Corey and I would never surrender the hope of being with our families again. Daniel would—his father was an abusive alcoholic, his mother long gone—but he still wanted to return to some semblance of a normal life.
    Corey scanned the quiet road. “There’s no one around. Maya, why don’t you go knock on the door. It’s not like anyone’s going to be watching the place.”
    â€œAre you sure?” Daniel said.
    Corey shifted. “Look, I know we need to be careful, but”—he waved a hand around—“we’re in the middle of nowhere. It’s the cottage of her grandmother’s friend. How would we even know she was here? No one’s going to expect this.”
    â€œYou’re sure of that? Sure enough to bet Maya’s freedom on it?”
    Corey swore under his breath. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
    â€œI know,” I said. “You’re right. We need to take a chance. But it’s almost seven now. It’ll be dark soon. Once it is, I can get to the cabin, get her attention, and get her to let me in.”
    Daniel shook his head. “If she sees you through a window, she might react loud enough for anyone watching to overhear. I should—”
    â€œI’ll do it,” Corey said. “First, she knows me the least, so she’ll have the least reaction to seeing me alive. Second, I’m the guy you can most afford to lose.”
    â€œWe can’t afford to lose anyone,” I said.
    â€œLet’s not go through this again, okay? I don’t need you guys to make me feel important. You and Daniel got us this far and you’re the ones most likely to get us out. From now on, if someone needs to take a risk, it’s me. Always me.”
    We finally agreed that it would be him this time . It was true that Daniel and I had done most of the planning so far. We’d all grown up together in a very small school, where Daniel and I were the class leaders, not because we were awesomely perfect, but because we tended to take charge naturally and the others were happy to kick back and let us shoulder that responsibility. In a crisis, they’d done the same.
    Yet everyone had played their part in this ordeal. Often, that role had been the sacrificial lamb. Hayley, Sam, and Rafe had all let themselves be captured so the rest of us could escape. And with every sacrifice they made, the pressure to honor it by saving them grew greater, and I felt less worthy of it.
    So we waited for dark. And as we waited, I became more and