Among the Free by Margaret Peterson Haddix Page B

memorized without realizing it. And Mr. Hendricks was in a wheelchair—how could Luke fail to notice a wheel-chair gliding by?
    He felt a little better, but he still didn’t recognize any of the faces around him.
    â€œCome on! Dance with us!” a girl called, reaching out and grabbing his hand. Luke pulled away.
    â€œNo, thanks—not right now,” Luke mumbled, stumbling backward to get away from her.
    He glanced past her and the other dancers toward the huge Population Police headquarters building. The first time Luke had come to this building, it had belonged to the Grants, the family who had donated his first fake name. Luke had felt terrified for most of the time he’dspent with the Grants, and he could still remember the panic that had gripped him when he’d returned to enlist in the Population Police. Now all the lights in the building were blazing, and he could see people passing the windows carrying food. They were laughing and hollering and cheering and dancing, just like the people outside on the lawn.
    Where are the fierce Population Police officials who used to yell at us? Where’s Aldous Krakenaur, the head of the Population Police? Luke wondered. Somehow he couldn’t believe that all the top leaders would have run away, or given up so easily.
    Luke’s feet hurt, and the music and shouting were making his head ache. He wanted to find his friends, but he was so tired of searching. After he circled the crowd a second time without luck, he backed away until he found himself under an isolated tree, away from everyone else. He squinted up at the tree stupidly, trying to figure out why it looked so familiar.
    Oh, yeah, he finally thought. He was back by the stables. This tree was one he had often faced when he’d had to stand waiting for inspection. He swayed dizzily, staring up at the tree. Then he turned around and crept into the stable.
    The building was dark inside; evidently, the crowd hadn’t made it so far back on the grounds. Or maybe someone had checked it out early in the celebration and decided it was beneath the crowd’s notice. Luke stood just inside the door, inhaling the familiar smell of hay and horse. Andmanure, too—the manure smell seemed a little stronger than usual, probably because Luke had been away from it for so long.
    â€œHello?” Luke called softly.
    A horse whinnied in reply. Luke was so sure it was Jenny that he threw caution to the wind and switched on the light.
    â€œHey, girl. Did you miss me?” he whispered, striding toward her stall.
    But all the horses were watching him now, some of them whinnying loudly and banging their heads against their stall doors.
    â€œHey, hey, what’s wrong?” Luke muttered. “Calm down, everybody—you’ll have the whole crowd in here checking to see what’s going on.”
    Some of the horses began rattling their feed troughs. The empty pans echoed against the floor.
    â€œGeez, you guys are acting like nobody fed you today,” Luke complained.
    Oh, he thought. He remembered Simone in the TV broadcast saying that most of the workers at Population Police headquarters had left the day before. They left, and nobody thought about the horses.
    Luke stared down the row of stalls—a dozen on each side, twenty-four altogether. He thought about how many stableboys had done the work of caring for the horses. His vision blurred a little. He stalked over to Jenny’s stall. He pulled the pin out of the latch and swung the door open.
    â€œThere you go, Jenny!” he said. “If the people are free, the horses are going to have to be free too! Go find your own food!”
    Luke stood to the side, giving Jenny free access to the doorway. Jenny stared at Luke, then dipped her head down and nudged her feeding trough toward Luke. The horse might as well have spoken. I don’t want to be free. I want you to feed me.
    â€œDidn’t you hear me?” Luke