Margaret Haddix: Among the Brave

For Trey’s act of bravery — his only one ever — had been to save Lee’s life the night before.

Beneath the pride was a whole jumble of emotions Trey hadn’t had time to explore. He felt his leg muscles tense, as if they too remembered last night, remembered springing forward at the last minute to knock Lee to the side, only seconds before the explosion of glass in the very spot where Lee had stood….

It’s easier being brave when you don’t have time to think about your other options, Trey thought Unlike now.

He had so many choices, out here in the open. The ones that called to him most strongly were the ones that involved hiding. How fast would he be able to run back to the car, if he needed to? Would the clump of trees be a good hiding place? Would he be able to squeeze out of sight between that giant flowerpot on the porch and the wall of the Talbot house?

Trey forced himself to keep walking. It seemed a miracle when he finally reached the front porch. He cast a longing glance toward the flowerpot, but willed himself to stab a finger at the doorbell.

Dimly, he could hear a somber version of “‘Westminster Chimes” echoing from indoors. Nobody came. He took a second to admire the brass door knocker, elegantly engraved with the words, GEORGE A. TALBOT, ESQUIRE.Still nobody came.

Too bad, They thought Back to the car, then. But his legs didn’t obey. He couldn’t face the thought of walking back through all that open space again. He pressed the doorbell again.

This time the door opened.

Trey was torn between relief and panic. Relief won when he saw Mr. Talbot’s familiar face on the other side of the door. See, this wasn’t so bad, Trey told himself. I walked all the way up here without my legs even trembling. Take that, Nina! I am braver than you!

Trey started thinking about what he was supposed to say to Mr. Talbot He hadn’t worried about that before. Words were so much easier than action.

“I’m so glad you’re home, Mr. Talbot,” They began. “You won’t believe what happened. We just—”

But Mr. Talbot cut him off

“No, no, I do not want to buy anything to support your school’s lacrosse team,” he said. “And please do not come back. Tell the rest of your team that this is a no-soliciting house. Can’t you see I’m a busy man?”

Mr. Talbot’s eyebrows beetled together, like forbidding punctuation.

“But, Mr. Talbot — I’m not — I’m—”

Too late. The door slammed in his face.

“—Trey,” They finished in a whisper, talking now to the door.

He doesn’t remember me, Trey thought. It wasn’t that surprising. Every time Mr. Talbot had visited Hendricks School, where Trey and Lee were students, Trey had been in the background, no more noticeable than the wallpaper.

Lee, on the other hand, had been front and center, talking to Mr. Talbot, joking with him, going off for special meals with him.

Mr. Talbot wouldn’t have slammed the door in Lee’s face, They thought Was Trey jealous of that, too? No. I just wish Lee were here to talk with Mr. Talbot now.

They sighed, and began gathering the nerve to ring the doorbell again.

But then two things happened, one after the other. First, a car shot out from under the house — from a hidden garage, Trey guessed. It was black and long and official-looking. Its tires screeched, winding around the curves of the driveway. They caught a glimpse of two men in uniforms in the front seat, and Mr. Talbot in the back Mr. Talbot held up his hands toward the window, toward Trey, and Trey saw a glint of something metal around his wrists.

Handcuffs?

The black car bounced over the curb and then sped off down the street.

Trey was still standing there, his mouth agape, his mind struggling to make sense of what he’d seen, when the car he’d ridden in — the car that Nina, Joel, and John were still hiding in — began to inch forward, under the cover of the trees. Trey felt a second of hope: The/re coming to rescue me!

But the car was going in the wrong direction.

Trey stared as the car slid away, just a shadow in the trees, then a black streak on the open road.

Then it was gone.

They left me! Trey’s mind screamed. They left me!

He was all alone on an uncaring man’s porch — an arrested man’s porch? — out in the great wide open where anyone in the world might see him.

Without thinking, Trey dived behind the huge flowerpot, to hide.

For once, Trey’s instincts had been wise. Seconds later, a whole army of black cars swarmed down the street and onto the Talbots’ property. They overflowed the driveway; the last few cars had to park harum-scarum on the lawn. Peeking daringly over the rim of the huge flowerpot, Trey saw the doors of all the cars opening, and dozens of men in black uniforms spilling out. He ducked down immediately, trying to fit his body in as small a space as possible behind the flowerpot.

You know, it really wasn’t a good idea to grow four inches in the past year, he thought, then marveled that he could think so clearly at a time like this. He pulled his long legs even closer to his body.

Walkie-talkies crackled instructions: “Search the basement.

‘Affirmative.”

“Search the yard.”

Trey began to sweat. What if someone was dispatched to search the porch? He strained to hear every instruction, all at once. He listened for footsteps up to the porch. It wouldn’t take any great observational skills to find Trey. What was he going to do if — no, when — that happened?

Come out fighting. Trey ordered himself sternly. Don’t go down gently. You’ll have the element of surprise on your side. As soon as you hear someone nearby, jump up and start swinging punches….

And then what? Did he really think he could prevail? Maybe he could surprise one of the uniformed men. Temporarily. But two? Three? Fifty?

A board creaked nearby. The first step of the stairs up to the porch had creaked just like that when Trey was walking to the door. His heart began pounding so hard he thought the sound itself would give him away. He held his breath as another board creaked, and then another. Closer, closer…

Trey had his head down, practically tucked between his knees. But the suspense was too much to bear. Trey, the biggest coward in the world, decided it was better to know what was about to happen. Silently, slowly, he tilted his head back.

A uniformed man — no, really just a boy, barely older than Trey himself — stood there silently looking down at him. Trey’s eyes suddenly seemed to work like a camera, registering every detail of the boy’s face in a single glance. The boy had freckles across his nose, and that detail alone seemed so out of place that Trey could do nothing but stare.

“Liber?” the boy said, oddly.

Wait a minute. Was he actually speaking Latin?

“Free?” Trey translated incredulously.

The boy rewarded him with such a small nod that Trey wondered if he’d imagined it. Because then the boy raised his walkie-talkie to his mouth and pressed the button on the side.

That’s it, Trey thought, disappointment swelling through him. Why didn’t I fight when I had the chance? Why didn’t I run?

He probably still had a few seconds before the boy summoned the other uniformed men and they came swarming around the porch. But Trey couldn’t move. He could just imagine where running or fighting would lead. He could hear the gunfire that was bound to come, could see the hands that would undoubtedly grab him, maybe pummel him — maybe beat him to death….