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talk. . . .”
    With that, Bull walked to the ambulance and climbed in, fixing the boys with a cruel stare. Jake and Taylor silently looked on as one of the paramedics closed the rear doors and walked around to the front seat. The engine roared to life, and the vehicle quickly pulled away.
    As soon as the ambulance drove out of sight, a small crowd of police and neighbors swirled around Jake and Taylor. Some, like Mrs. Sanchez, offered their condolences. Tears welled in Jake’s eyes, and his throat felt like a boa constrictor had wrapped itself around it. He croaked to the crowd, “We need to be alone.” Grabbing Taylor by the hand, Jake tugged him into the house, Cody on their heels.
    Once inside, Taylor sobbed. “Jake, what’s going on? Why is Bull saying he’s our stepfather?”
    â€œSo they won’t take us away. This way he can keep an eye on us.”
    â€œJake, what are we gonna do?”
    Taylor’s voice bordered on hysterical. Jake wrapped his arms around his brother, but his mind worked furiously. If they stayed with Bull, their lives would be full of misery–and maybe worse. If they told the authorities, they could be split up, they might even have to testify, and that would be the fastest way to get into trouble with Bull and whoever he was working for. Jake couldn’t let that happen—he had to think of a way out, and fast.
    Suddenly it came to him—the answer was obvious. He gently pried Taylor loose and brushed the hair from his brother’s eyes. “I know what we’re going to do, but we’ve got to move fast.”
    Jake hurried into their bedroom and unslung his backpack. Taylor followed.
    â€œWhat are you—?”
    â€œEmpty your backpack,” Jake said, already dumping his school notebooks onto the floor.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œJust do it.”
    Taylor began unzipping his pack. “What’s happening, Jake?”
    Jake met his eyes. “We’re getting out of here, that’s what. We’re going to find Dad.”
    Taylor’s mouth hung open for a moment. “You mean in Wyoming ?”
    â€œThat’s exactly what I mean.”
    â€œBut you said we couldn’t because of Mom.”
    Jake hesitated. He’d never seen anyone who’d been beaten before, but his mother had looked bad. Real bad. I don’t know if she’ll survive, he thought with a pang. “There’s nothing we can do for her,” he said to Taylor. “But one thing I know is she wouldn’t want Bull—or social services—to be in charge of us.”
    Taylor just nodded, too shocked and bewildered to argue.
    â€œIf we can get away from Bull, we’ll just end up being separated. We have to go now ,” Jake continued.
    â€œWhat do you want me to do?” Taylor murmured.
    In a pile in the corner of their room, the two boys had already collected some of things they would need for this year’s summer camp, but Jake quickly made an additional survival list.
    â€œPack up what we already pulled out for camp—especially the warm clothes and socks.”
    Taylor did as he was told. “What else?”
    â€œGet the flashlight.”
    Taylor retrieved the light from the kitchen, and Jake stuffed it into his pack. Just then they heard someone knock on their front door.
    â€œBoys, are you all right?” came the muffled voice of Mrs. Jones, the woman from Child Protective Services.
    Jake and Taylor hurried to the closed front door. “We’re . . . We’re fine,” Jake said. “We just need some time alone right now.”
    â€œI understand.” Her voice welled with sympathy. “I’mgoing to wait outside here. Come out when you’re ready to talk.”
    â€œAll right. Thanks,” Jake said, fighting panic.
    After a pause the brothers heard footsteps clack down the front steps, and then murmuring voices as the social worker began talking