Read Burn for Free Online Page B

today.”
    â€œDo you want me to drive?”
    I laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
    â€œI know how. And Christina obviously needs to rest.”
    â€œIt’s okay. I can think and drive simultaneously.” I lean back against the headrest. “I just wish I had more time to do it.”
    â€œA good plan, violently executed now, is better than a perfect plan next week.”
    â€œYou’re quoting Patton now?” He sounds like my dad.
    â€œIf it fits,” he says defensively. We pass a Greyhound as it slows to exit the highway, and Leo sighs. “Uncle Angus is going to be mad when he gets back to Chicago and realizes I’m gone.”
    â€œWhen will that happen?”
    â€œI don’t know. He’s always busy. I’m on my own a lot. The Fifty headquarters is a big estate on the north shore, with lots of people going in and out.”
    â€œBut you’re a kid. Nobody looks after you?”
    â€œI’m fourteen. It’s not like I have a sitter.” He shifts in his seat. “Not anymore, anyway,” he mumbles.
    â€œDon’t you go to school?”
    â€œNo. I think they were afraid I’d spill their secrets. After my parents died, they brought me to the estate, and I’ve had tutors ever since.”
    â€œHow often did you see my dad?” I clear my throat after hearing the jealous edge in my voice.
    â€œOnce a month. When he came for board meetings, he’d stay at a hotel nearby, and he’d spend time with me, reviewing my schoolwork, giving me extra assignments. He took me to the Museum of Science and Industry a few times.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I think he felt sorry for me.”
    Maybe. But my dad wasn’t the most sympathetic of guys. “I’m sure he enjoyed your company.”
    â€œI think he was just lonely. He talked about you and your mom sometimes.”
    I wish he’d talked
to
us. “In that case, I’m surprised you wanted to meet me. I was a constant disappointment to him.”
    The silence rolls in waves from the backseat, and after a while, I wonder if he’s falling asleep. But then I hear him say, very quietly, “You didn’t know him very well at all.”
    I stare at the road in front of me. I could argue with him, but that would be pointless.
    Especially because I’m afraid he’s right.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    I don’t call Will. I know his schedule anyway. Eleven and a half hours after we leave Kentucky, after two quick stops for gas—one in which I raided the nearby convenience store—and one lightning round at a hardware store in West Virginia, we’re pulling up to the curb a block away from his building. And sure enough, about five minutes later, he hops off the bus at the corner, lugging his duffel. His head is bowed, showing off his Mohawk, which is already starting to grow out. His shoulders are slumped. I cram a baseball cap over my hair and get out of the car. “Hey, loser,” I say.
    His head jerks up at the sound of my voice. “Tate? Oh my God, dude.”
    â€œLet me start by saying that my dad’s not a terrorist.”
    â€œWasn’t even tempted to believe it. I’m sorry about what happened to him, man.” He gives me a quick hug, whacking his hand against my back. “Really sorry.”
    â€œThanks,” I mumble as we step away from each other.
    â€œWhere the hell have you been?”
    â€œLong story.”
    â€œYou have no idea how weird it’s been here. These FBI guys crawling all over the school, confiscating and erasing anything on our phones, warning us not to talk about what happened because it’s a national security threat, and then that crazy lunch lady goes and tells everyone that I lasered her—”
    I glance around. “Listen—can we get off the street? Are your parents home yet?”
    â€œNot yet.” He leans around me as the car door