Page 124 of The Americana Playbook

Whatever I can do—whatever I’m willing to do—won’t bring me back. It won’t bring Sarah back. And we’re the ones who matter. Us and god knows how many other kids… weallmatter.

Dear Fitzy,

Today I’ve been gone 128 days.

Yesterday, they let Sarah actually stay in the infirmary because when I found her in our room, she was throwing up and her vomit was green.

Today I gave myself an awful paper cut in “class” so I could go check on her.

She was gone.

I’m not angry. I’m relieved. I guess her being sick this entire time was a silver lining. Now she’s free. I’m sure the first thing she’ll do is visit Midnight and give him a good brushing before saddling him up. I’m sad I’m without her, don’t get me wrong. But I’m so happy she gets to have that sooner rather than later. I hope the two of them jump over the fence of the paddock and she rides away from the family that did this to her.

But this means the rebellion is over before it started. I can’t lead it myself.

Maybe someone will come for me. But I know they won’t. Because, by my calculations, the election is over. I bet my dad lost. I hope he did. I hope that karma came for him and my mom. And if it didn’t, one day, I will. That day will come when I turn 18 and they can’t keep me in here anymore.

But first, I’ll find Sarah.

And then, if I’m brave enough, I’ll send these scrappy letters to you.

Rebels Only.

Parker

I scratchMidnight’s grey nose and he lets out a heavy sigh into my hand.

“He’s calm with you. Kind of like how he was with my sister,” Abby says.

I turn my head away from her and squeeze my eyes shut.

“My dad bought Midnight at auction. And when he came off the trailer, all hell broke loose.”

I shake my head. “What do you mean?”

“It took every trainer in here to get him into a stall. Just totally green. He wasn’t safe to be around. And Sarah, she was six, maybe. You couldn’t keep her out of the stables, no matter how hard you tried. She never listened.” Abby sighs. “One night, back when we had our first property out in Hampshire County, we couldn’t find her anywhere. My mom was a mess. My dad almost called the police. The only other time I’ve seen them upset like that was when…”

I look back at Midnight as Abby trails off.

“They found her with him hours later. Just mounting him totally bareback, no saddle, no rein. She kind of just slumped against him and held on, and must’ve fallen asleep. And he just stood there.” Abby smiles sadly. “They were kind of kindred spirits. Sarah, she grew up from that point to be just like the horse—totally untamed. She used to say no one understood her but him.”

I bite my lip, nearly crying. Because I know that feeling. And how many other children in this country are feeling the same way—lost, misunderstood, and unguided? How many children were sent away and either never returned or returned shells of who they once were?

“I understood Sarah,” I whisper. Nervous, I shuffle my feet against the pavers. “I was at Horizons with her. She… she was my friend.”

She was the only one there who treated me like a person.

Abby leans back but takes two steps closer to me. “Y-you were there? When she died?”

It’s still a punch to the gut. “I was there when she was sick.”

Abby’s eyes widen.

“I was there with her until she wasn’t.” I shake my head, trying to keep the sob in. “I’m so sorry.”

My feet start moving, but Abby reaches out, pulling on my arm. “Youknewshe was sick?”

“She was throwing up a lot.” My voice shakes as hard as my hand Abby now holds in her own. “I tried to get them to help her from the beginning. I swear I tried. I’m so sorry.”

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