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Gwen stretched out on her couch with a scratchy blue blanket held over her head with one hand, a flashlight held with the other. Propped between her stomach and her knees was a tablet onto which she'd uploaded a book titled
Sustainable Future
. From it, Gwen was poring over an article called “Residential Wind Turbines.”

The reading wasn't easy to understand. The article had subtitles such as:
Designing and Carving Wooden Blades
;
Alternator Theory and Design
;
Winding Coils
;
Fitting Magnets into Homebuilt Alternators
;
Governing Systems
;
Yaw and Tail Design and Construction
;
Wiring and Fabrication
;
Construction Details
.

In fact, it seemed pretty much impossible to imagine converting to wind power. And yet, the article said it could be done. It also said that—as an individual—it might be easier to work with solar energy. What intrigued her about wind energy, though, was that Luke had so much old motorcycle junk lying around. Wire and motors and all sorts of metal were piled in the shed behind the house.

Tom and Carlos had been on the right track when they'd suggested that Luke had access to stolen gasoline. But it was only enough to keep their old furnace going at sixty degrees and to fuel a small generator
for a few hours in the evening. The rest of the gas Luke sold at high prices.

When Gwen wanted to know why he didn't keep more for their own use, he said, “You like to eat, don't you? We need that money for food. Besides, I have to buy the gas from the black market guy, which means filling a truck with gas just to go get the stuff.”

Gwen scrolled down to a subhead titled:
History of the Wind Turbine
. She learned that windmills were used to grind grain in Persia as early as 200 BC. The first electricity-generating wind machine was installed in 1887 in Scotland. In America, by 1908 there were seventy-two wind-propelled electric generators. By the 1930s, windmills for electricity were common on American farms.

Outside, the wind howled. She pictured a wind turbine with its blades spinning, producing enough electricity to light their house.

Gwen switched off the tablet. Maybe it was useless. There was so much she'd need to know before she could think about building a wind turbine and installing it on their roof.

Luke and two of his friends stomped through the front door into the enclosed front porch, laughing raucously, in a tone that told Gwen they'd been drinking. They reeked of gasoline and body odor as they dragged in an array of various plastic containers—juice and milk jugs, large water jugs, and even soda bottles, along with red containers.

Tossing off her blanket, Gwen left the tablet on the couch. Going toward the porch, she recognized the strong odor of gasoline before she even got there. “Did you just come up from the city with that?” she asked Luke.

“None of your business where we got it,” Luke told her, though he appeared to be in a good mood. “We're going to make a bundle on this.
People are so desperate, they'll pay anything, especially over in Marietta, where they can afford it.”

“Isn't what you're doing illegal?” Gwen asked.

Luke looked to his two friends, a tall, skinny guy in motorcycle leathers named Mark, and a wider, muscular guy with long, black hair who they called Rat. They faced Gwen with serious expressions before bursting into laughter. “Gee, I guess it could be, Gwen,” Rat said mockingly through his hilarity. “Are you going to call the cops on us?”

“Of course not, stupid. I just wanted to know.”

“You don't have to know anything,” Luke said, his laughter subsiding. “Just keep your mouth shut and don't say anything to your friends.”

“Don't worry. I don't have any friends.”

“What about the boyfriend that you sit around and howl at the moon with? What's his name? Horace?”

“Hector—and he's not my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, well. Don't tell him anything about what I do. You haven't already, have you?”

Honestly, Gwen couldn't remember what she'd told Hector. “Hector is cool. He doesn't care what you do. Tom at school knows. Remember, you sold him the gas that day?”

“Well, tell him to keep his mouth shut about it.”

“You tell him,” Gwen snapped, but then thought better of it. The last thing Tom needed was for Luke to be on his case. “He won't say anything,” she added.

“He'd better not.”

“Gwen, why aren't you at that thing at the high school?” Rat asked.

“What thing? The bonfire?”

“Yeah.”

“That's not for me,” she answered dismissively. “I don't really get the whole team spirit thing.”

“Yeah?” said Rat. “What's your kind of thing?”

“Helping my brother move illegal gasoline,” Gwen replied sourly. “Isn't it obvious?”

“You know what I read?” Rat said. “Oil is the biggest business in the world. Can you believe that? In the world! Do you think all those rich oil guys got so fat by doing everything legally?” He laughed scornfully. “Don't bet on it.”

“Don't worry about this being illegal,” Luke said, pushing the canisters to the back of the porch to make room for more. “I could make a bundle because I'm willing to take the risk. No guts, no glory.”

“Yeah, well, what about me?” Gwen argued.

“You're eating, aren't you?”

“That's not what I mean. What if you get arrested? I land in foster care.”

Luke waved her away as he headed back toward the door for more canisters filled with gasoline. “I'm not getting arrested.”

“Yeah? Well, I'm not going into a foster home,” Gwen insisted. “I'll run away first.”

Luke turned at the door and faced her. “Shut your trap and be useful. Pull the blinds and curtains so everyone in town doesn't know our generator is going. Then help us get the rest of this gas.”

“Is it safe to store gasoline in here?” Gwen questioned. “I don't think you're supposed to store it in milk containers, either.”

“Just get going, would ya?”

 

Gwen lay supine on her lower roof, staring at the stars. Carrying all those canisters of gasoline onto the front porch had made her muscles ache.

Breathing out, a vapor cloud formed in front of her face. She pulled the zipper of her black sweatshirt up as high as it went. Soon, she'd need some kind of winter jacket. Would Luke sell enough black market gasoline to pay for a new one?

By the time the jacket was an absolute necessity, she might be in foster care. Who would pay for a jacket then? The state? Her foster parents? Anyone?

Would they find her mother?

Thinking about her mother made Gwen's stomach clench with anxiety. She'd run off with her boyfriend when Gwen was in ninth grade. Since she wasn't dead, just missing in action, Gwen and Luke simply hadn't told anyone about it, at least not anyone in charge of anything. Their old house had been inherited from Gwen's grandfather, so they didn't have anything to pay on it. She saw letters that were stamped
FINAL NOTICE OF OVERDUE BACK TAXES
, but, so far, they'd gotten away with ignoring them.

Gwen didn't even know how to find her mother. She'd simply gone out for a date with Richard and had never returned. She'd left a quick note saying Luke and Gwen were now old enough to take care of themselves. Her job was done. That was how they knew what had happened.

At first, Gwen had been angry. Furious. Enraged by the abandonment. But it was shockingly easy to settle into her new, freer life with
Luke. She could make her own rules, wear what she liked. Not that Leila Jones had ever been strict—Luke always cracked that their mother was “asleep at the wheel.” Life with only Luke in charge was complete freedom.

Still…did she miss her mother?

A little, mostly when she thought back to when she was small, to a time when her mother didn't drink so heavily and before Richard had brought the harder stuff. There was no sense thinking about it too much, though. Leila had chosen Richard over Luke and Gwen, and that was that.

Luke and Gwen had managed to stay under everyone's radar up until now. It turned out that Leila had quit her bartending job before she left, so no one at work thought it was odd that she didn't come in. Gwen quickly broke off the several friendships she had at school to prevent anyone from nosing around. Doing this made her lonely, and she still felt guilty that she had hurt the feelings of some of her old friends, but it couldn't have been avoided.

So far, no one had even noticed that her mother had split. Gwen did an excellent forgery of her mother's handwriting when a signature was required, not that she thought anyone really checked. If neighbors realized she and Luke were on their own, they weren't getting involved. Her house was close to the development where Tom lived, but that was separated by the hedges. The nearest house on her side was easily an acre away.

Hector was the only one who knew for sure that her mother didn't live with her, but Gwen trusted him. And it helped that he was so off the grid. Who would he even tell?

A twig snapped below the roof, and Gwen was instantly on her knees, peering into the darkness.

“Who's there?” she asked.

“Gwen?”

A dark form appeared from the side of the house, and Gwen recognized it. “Tom?”

Tom stepped closer, into a pool of moonlight, and Gwen gasped. A stream of blood ran from his right nostril. A purple bruise was forming around his left eye. The shoulder seam of his varsity jacket was torn.

Gwen quickly crawled to the edge of the roof and he joined her there. He reeked of smoke and gasoline.

Had he come to see her because he needed help? If so, why her?

“What happened to you?” she asked, impulsively raising her hand to stroke his bruise, then thinking better of it. “You're bleeding.”

Tom brushed the red stream from his nose, glancing at his stained hand a moment before wiping it on his jeans. “There was a big fight at the bonfire,” he explained, sniffing back blood. “Guys from the Marietta team were stealing gas from our tanks.”

Gwen hissed a curse. “Like those kids can't afford to buy it. I thought they had all the fuel in the world over there.”

Tom shrugged. “I don't know. But two Marietta guys started whaling on Carlos, so I had to jump in to even the score.”

“Good for you.”

“Not really,” Tom disagreed with bitter laughter. “I was getting the snot kicked out of me. Good thing the cops came when they did. Everyone ran when they showed.”

“Want to come inside to clean up?” Gwen offered.

“Maybe later. Is your brother home?”

So he hadn't come to find her, after all.

“Why?” Gwen asked, trying to keep her voice even enough to mask her hurt feelings.

“I walked here from the school. My truck is stuck there; some jerk stole all the gasoline right out of my tank.”

“How did you find my house?” Gwen asked.

“A guy at a gas station told me where I could get some black market gas and gave me directions. When he told me I should ask for Luke, I realized I was going to your house.” He looked toward the wall of bushes at the back of her small yard. “Hey, you live right behind me.”

Gwen grinned. He had only just realized it—and after she'd been watching him from her perch on the roof for so long. “Is that right?” she replied drily. “What do you know?”

Tom missed her sarcasm altogether. “Yeah, we're neighbors. Sort of. If you go behind those trees, you could see right into my yard.”

“Huh,” she grunted. “That's funny. Imagine that.”

“Yeah.”

“How much gas did those guys take from you?” Gwen asked.

“I had a nearly full tank, and they took it all. It took me hours to find the gas today, too. And when I did, I had to wait on line for two more hours. I don't even want to tell you how much it cost me. My mom is going to seriously freak out. The last thing we need is this.”

“A whole tank of gas jacked right out of your truck,” Gwen sympathized sincerely. “Man, that's low!”

“No kidding. So, is Luke around?”

“I'm not sure where Luke is,” Gwen told him, trying to dodge the pang of disappointment she felt. For a few minutes there, she had allowed herself to continue to imagine he had come to the house to see her, even though she knew he hadn't. “He went out with his friends a little while ago.”

“I don't have any money to pay him right now. But I could get it to him by the end of the week. My windshield got smashed in the fight, and I just want to get the thing home before anything more happens to it.”

Luke wasn't inclined to give anything on credit or faith. Gwen sighed, wondering how she could help Tom.

“Do you have a gas container?” she asked.

Tom picked up the red canister he'd set at his feet.

Gwen took it from him. “Wait here.” If she poured a little from each of Luke's containers, it would fill Tom's canister and her brother would never miss it.

“Will Luke mind that I can't pay him right away?” Tom asked. “I don't want him to be mad at you.”

“If I do this right, you won't have to pay him at all,” Gwen said as she pulled the red gas can into her bedroom window behind her. If Luke was going to say the law no longer applied, he was fair game like everyone else.