CHAPTER 1

“Hey!” shouts a police officer from the end of the store aisle.

Nate looks up and freezes, caught stuffing his backpack with stolen snacks from the shelf. As the officer runs toward him, Nate bolts out the back door.

“Stop!” he hears behind him, but he continues running and hops on his motorcycle.

VROOM! The old motorcycle springs to life, and Nate rides into the night, narrowly avoiding the dumpsters in the back of the store.

With his backpack still open and small bags of chips flying out, Nate rides as fast as he can. He looks into his cracked mirror and sees red and blue lights.

As he approaches an intersection, the light turns red.

This might be the end of the road for me, he thinks in a panic.

Nate stops the bike, and the police car appears behind him.

“Hands up! Don’t move!” the police officer shouts through her car’s megaphone.

“Okay, you got me!” he shouts back, hands in the air.

The officer gets out of her car and escorts Nate to the backseat of the police vehicle.

They drive to the police station, and the officer escorts Nate to the interrogation room.

“What were you thinking?” she asks, frustrated. “Did you think no one would notice you loading up your bag? Your motorcycle doesn’t have a license plate either.”

Nate sits silently.

“You need to take this seriously,” she says more kindly. “Just answer my questions. I’m not here to make your life harder. What’s your name?”

“Nate Morris,” he answers softly.

“Okay, Nate, my name is Officer Mendez. How old are you?” she asks.

“Seventeen. Eighteen in two months. July 29th is my birthday,” Nate replies.

“Who am I calling tonight? I need to tell a parent or guardian that you’re detained,” she says.

“No one.”

Officer Mendez’s eyes narrow. She stands up, slamming her hands on the table.

“Excuse me? Don’t give me attitude!” she snaps.

Nate jumps in his chair.

“No, no! I just don’t have anyone. Seriously,” he tells her.

She raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I was abandoned when I was 15,” Nate explains. “My parents weren’t great at taking care of me anyway, and now they’re in jail. My grandparents are gone, and my aunt is across the ocean. I don’t have her phone number or any other way to contact her. Aside from that, I don’t have any adults in my life. I live on the street.”

Officer Mendez becomes quiet.

“Where’s my dirt bike?” Nate asks.

“At an impound lot. Do you actually have no one? Don’t mess with me,” she says firmly.

“I’m telling the truth. Go look up my parents, Steven and Noel Morris. They’re not in my life, and it’s better off that way anyway,” Nate replies coldly.

Officer Mendez sits back down and types something on the computer in front of her.

“I see. Okay, I believe you. But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook,” she tells him.

“Am I going to jail?” Nate asks, frightened.

“You’re not going to jail, but you need to go somewhere with adult supervision. I can send you to a local foster home until you’re 18, but you would serve 20 hours of community service.”

Nate’s eyes roll. He has heard plenty of horror stories about foster care and doesn’t want any part of it.

“Or, I can send you to this troubled teen camp where you will go through some sort of community-building healing process, and I’ll keep this whole situation off your record,” she offers.

Nate becomes interested.

“It’s a fairly new organization,” Officer Mendez continues. “It’s called the Healing House. They’ve asked our department to consider sending them any troubled youth we come across.”

“How do you know they’re any good?” asks Nate.

“We’re not sure,” Mendez replies, “but we’ve heard good things. Once you’re 18, you can leave and return to whatever life you were living. What’s it going to be?”

Ugh, two lousy choices, Nate thinks. But maybe a little camp won’t be that bad.

“I guess the camp,” he replies.

CHAPTER 2

The next morning, Officer Mendez escorts Nate to a gray bus waiting outside.

“Hello, young man!” says a cheery voice near the doorway of the bus. “Welcome! We’re on our way to the Healing House! Are you ready to get better?”

He turns to the right and sees a woman with wavy blonde hair and red lipstick.

“I’m Ms. Newton. I’m sure this will be a great experience for you! C’mon, get in, quickly please,” she says sharply.

Nate steps onto the bus and looks back at Officer Mendez before the doors shut. He walks down the aisle and sees five other kids, but he sits down in one of the middle rows, alone.

The bus starts to move, and he sees Officer Mendez waving to him from the window.

She could have been a lot harder on me, he thinks.

A man in a tan uniform with a name tag that reads “SMITH” approaches him.

“Sir, please empty your pockets for me,” he tells Nate.

“What? I don’t have anything, I swear,” Nate replies.

“Prove it,” Mr. Smith demands.

Nate turns his pockets inside out. Mr. Smith looks at Nate, nods, and moves to the next seat.

What’s that all about? Nate thinks to himself. Are they trying to take people’s phones away or something? Why?

Ms. Newton’s voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Hello, everyone. Here at Healing House, we intend to reeducate troubled youth by teaching kids like you how to work with others toward a common goal. How does that sound?” she announces from the front of the bus.

“Excuse me, Ms.—” a voice faintly asks from the back of the bus.

“No questions now,” she replies, cutting off the kid’s question. “You will see how everything works here at Healing House soon.”

The bus enters a thick wooded area of pine trees, driving on a gravel road. The land almost seems completely untouched. The road gets bumpier as the bus drives deeper into the woods.

I guess we’re going to be alone out here. I haven’t seen a building in a while, Nate thinks.

The bus finally comes to a stop in front of a collection of ugly, green tents and a small, painted wooden sign reading, “Healing House Site 3.” Behind them is a huge wooden frame of a mansion where only a few of the walls are complete.

All the teens react with exclamations and questions.

“What are we doing here?” Nate hears. “I thought this was a camp. This place isn’t even built yet!”

“All right, everybody,” instructs Ms. Newton after they exit the bus. “Here’s what you will be doing: working on this house! I’m going to split you into pairs, and then you will be given the necessary tools to do your duties.”

Nate listens closely to hear his assignment.

“Nate and Camila, you will be painting the dining room.”

Ugh, what could be more boring than watching paint dry? he thinks.

He looks around and sees a girl around his age with a similar look of surprise in her eyes. He figures it’s Camila when she looks back at him, but then they turn their attention back to Ms. Newton.

“We have strict rules here,” Ms. Newton says with authority. “Each camper must never leave the house for anything unless instructed, and you must keep working unless told to stop. No playing around and no games. Follow my instructions or the instructions of any staff member wearing a tan uniform. If you do not comply, there will be consequences. Now, get to work!”

All the teens look back and forth at each other in shock before the uniformed men escort them to their new workstations.

CHAPTER 3

Mr. Smith leads Nate and Camila into the dining room.

“Who needs walls this tall?” Camila blurts out.

“Silence!” Mr. Smith snaps.

Another uniformed agent walks in with a big box and gives it to Mr. Smith. He opens it and pulls out yellow paint and two paint rollers.

“I’ll be back to check on you periodically,” says Mr. Smith sharply. “No funny business! I’d better see progress when I return!”

With that, Camila and Nate are left to work.

“I hate this color,” Camila tells Nate while opening the paint can. Nate glances over but stays silent.

“Do you know how many hours we have to do this?” she asks.

Nate still doesn’t respond. Camila grabs his shoulder.

“You know, it’s rude not to answer. What’s your deal? You’re here for a reason, too.”

“Sorry,” Nate apologizes. “This just isn’t what I thought it was going to be. How is this supposed to help us get better? It just seems like they’re using us for free work.”

Camila takes her hand off him and pours paint into the tray.

“No use worrying about it now. How did you end up here anyway?” she asks, curious.

Nate takes a moment before answering. “I was at a convenience store stealing a bunch of snacks. Now I’m here.”

“Not a great idea, but I’m not much different. I was with my friends Michelle and Genna at Sephora. I noticed they were stuffing their pockets with makeup. They told me that only idiots get caught, and I’m not an idiot, you know?”

Nate smiles. “No. You don’t look like an idiot.”

“Right?” she continues. “So anyway, as I started filling my pockets, a staff member noticed us and began walking over. I guess Michelle and Genna knew what was happening, so they ran away.”

“Great friends,” comments Nate.

“Believe me, I’m done with them,” Camila says. “But before I knew it, that staff member dragged me into the back of the store and showed me the camera footage of me stealing. They asked me for the names of my friends, but I refused.”

“You’re a better friend than they are,” Nate adds.

“I’m not a snitch. So the police came, and even though they sent me home with my dad, he was furious. He told me he would send me away the first chance he got. I told him he wouldn’t dare, but I shouldn’t have called his bluff because I was on that stupid bus the next morning,” she tells Nate.

“Was it only one time?” Nate asks.

“I mean, that was my first time stealing, but I have gotten in trouble with those friends before, and my dad was having enough of it,” she says.

“Who needs friends like that?” replies Nate, dipping the paint roller into the tray after Camila. “I’m glad I don’t have any.”

“Why, are you weird or something?” she asks.

He sighs. “It’s a long story.”

“Just tell me, please?” She looks at him with genuine interest as she puts a coat of yellow on the wall.

“My parents weren’t the best. They didn’t care about me; they would leave me for days. One day, when I was fifteen, they just didn’t return,” Nate explains, quickly rolling another coat onto the wall.

“I didn’t want to be put in a foster home,” he adds, “so I didn’t call the police. I saw on the news that my folks got arrested. My grandparents were gone, and my aunt was living in Europe. No one checked on me, not even the school. Maybe they knew my parents got arrested and figured someone was handling it,” he continues as he paints.

“Anyway, I was on my own. Our family lived in a rental unit, so they just booted me out. I probably should have tried to get a job, but I was just too depressed. That’s how I ended up on the street, stealing for food,” he finishes.

Before Camila can respond, Mr. Smith bursts through the door.

“You should have more of this wall painted by now!! Get back to work or else!” Mr. Smith yells as he leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

Camila, with tears in her eyes, goes up to Nate and hugs him tightly.

CHAPTER 4

Hours pass and Nate and Camila are exhausted from painting.

“My mouth is getting dry,” Nate says as he sets down his paint roller and walks up to Mr. Smith who has returned to check on them.

“Can I have some water?” Nate asks. “I’m really thirsty.”

“No, get back to work,” Mr. Smith orders. Nate stands frozen. “Go!” he shouts.

Nate walks back to Camila. He picks his roller back up and resumes painting the wall.

“I guess you can’t even ask for water,” he tells her.

“That’s ridiculous!” Camila snaps. “We need water to survive! How could they do this? I’m going to talk to him.” She drops her paint roller and starts walking toward Mr. Smith.

“It’s not worth it,” he says as he holds her back.

Camila and Nate look over at Mr. Smith, who is staring them down from across the room. He grabs his belt to frighten them, turns around, and leaves the room.

“They’re treating us like animals,” Camila whispers to Nate.

As they try to decide what to do, Camila hears a voice through a hole in one of the walls.

“Listen! There’s someone on the other side,” she whispers.

She walks over to the wall and sees a boy whose clothes are tattered and stained. She waves at him, and he finally looks her way.

“Hey, I’m Camila. What’s your name?” she asks quietly.

“Ryan,” he mutters. His lips shake as he speaks.

“How long have you been here?” she asks gently.

“I don’t know… I’ve lost track of time,” Ryan tells her. “How long have you been here?”

“I just got here today,” she replies, looking over her shoulder.

“I don’t think I can take this much longer,” Ryan says to her with trembling lips. “They barely feed me, and I work all day. I’ve begged and pleaded to be let out, or even to make a phone call, but I get turned down every time. My parents think I’m in a wilderness therapy camp to help with my behavior, but they don’t know how badly we’re all treated.”

“But aren’t your parents worried that they haven’t heard from you? Surely they wouldn’t want you to stay here if you’re being abused like this!” says Camila, shocked at his story.

“They told my parents that I’m not supposed to contact them until I’m ‘better,’” Ryan says sadly.

“Better? How are you going to get ‘better’ if you’re starving to death?” Camila asks, horrified.

“I don’t know, but I feel bad for how I acted at home. I don’t think I’ll ever get to say that to my parents because I don’t know when I’ll get out of here. And honestly, I feel too weak to do anything,” says Ryan, almost in tears. “But you’re still strong; you just got here.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“You have strength to make a run for it. When I came on the bus a few weeks ago, I recognized this part of the woods. My uncle has a bait and tackle shop around here. I think it’s to the west.”

“Have you tried to break out of here?” Camila asks.

“There aren’t any windows in my room, so I can’t,” Ryan explains. “But maybe you—”

Ryan hears a noise, and his face quickly disappears from the gap in the wall. Camila runs back to Nate.

“We’re going to escape,” she tells him anxiously.

“You can’t be serious. We’re going to get into even more trouble, and where would we go?” Nate replies.

“We won’t survive if we stay. That kid I was talking to, Ryan, says his uncle’s shop is around here. Which way is west?” she says, with determination in her voice.

“The sun sets in the west; it’s starting to go down right now.”

“I’m not staying here another day,” Camila says firmly.

“What do we do?” he asks.

“Look for an opening,” Camila replies. “See the window on that side of the room, the big one? Let’s throw the paint can through it and jump out!”

“Are you sure?” Nate replies before hearing a loud shattering sound as the can goes flying through the glass.

“Now! Let’s go!” Camila says as she bolts for the window, grabbing Nate’s hand.

As Nate is climbing through, a guard yells for them to stop, but he and Camila keep going, not looking back. The shouting continues, more and more in the distance, as they race nonstop toward the dense woods.

“C’mon, c’mon! This way!” Camila urges Nate. As her head is turned, she trips over a root in the ground and falls on her arm.

“Ow, ow, ow,” she repeats. Her eyes become glassy.

The shouts of men grow louder as they start to catch up.

“Just go, I’m only going to hold you back,” she urges Nate as she holds her bruised and battered arm.

“I’m not a friend who’ll leave and get you into trouble. I got you, don’t worry,” he tells her as he removes his flannel shirt. He wraps it around her arm like a sling, glancing back toward the house to see if anyone is close.

“Over there!” an angry voice shouts in the distance behind them.

“What are we going to do? They’re getting closer,” Camila says frantically.

“There’s a ditch over there; we can crawl in. It’s getting dark, so maybe they won’t see us,” Nate suggests.

“I hope this works,” Camila whispers in a frightened voice.

They run over to the ditch and lie low. Beams from flashlights shine wildly around the woods, with footsteps and shouts echoing through the trees. The sounds grow louder but then fade after a few minutes.

“I don’t hear them anymore,” Nate whispers to Camila.

“Let’s wait a few minutes before we get up again,” she suggests.

“Good idea.”

CHAPTER 5

As they climb out of the ditch, they notice it’s gotten darker.

“We need to find that shop and call the cops,” Camila says urgently.

“Call the cops? They put us in this situation in the first place,” Nate says angrily.

“Maybe we can call my dad? I don’t know,” she suggests.

What’s she talking about? He’s the one who wanted her in that camp, Nate thinks. But I guess that’s our best bet. I don’t know anyone who’s gonna get me out of here.

Camila looks over at Nate, who seems to be trembling.

“Just trust me. Once I explain everything, he’ll rescue us,” Camila assures him.

Nate smiles at her and then glances over her shoulder.

“Look, there’s a light. Do you see it?” he asks, pointing in front of him.

“That’s gotta be the shop. What else could be around here?” Camila asks.

“Hopefully nothing that’ll send us back to that camp,” he says. “C’mon, let’s get going.”

As they approach the shack, Nate grows concerned.

“The sign says ‘Dave’s Bait and Tackle,’ but I can barely read it with all the moss on the building. I don’t think anyone’s here,” Nate says to Camila as they reach the front door.

Just then, the front door swings open, and Nate and Camila jump back.

“Who’s there?!” shouts an old man as he adjusts his glasses.

“Umm, hello. I’m Nate, and this is Camila. It’s a long story, but we just ran away from this troubled teen camp. They were—” Nate explains until he is interrupted.

“Ran away? What are you guys, criminals or something? I can’t let you in if you’re running from the law, sorry,” the old man says as he starts to shut the door.

“No, please, sir!” Camila grabs the door before it closes. “Ryan? Your nephew Ryan?”

The old man looks confused. “How do you know him?” he asks Camila.

“He’s in the camp too, but he was too weak to escape. Please, they didn’t give us any water or food, and they made us work painting this big mansion! I just wanna call my dad,” Camila pleads.

The old man looks at Nate and Camila in shock.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” he asks suspiciously.

“Ryan’s the one who told us how to get here,” Camila answers. “He really wanted us to get away and call for help.”

The old man shakes his head in disbelief.

“Why would my sister send that kid to that place? I told her it was a bad idea,” the old man grunts as he lets the two teens inside. “That’s not how you’re going to teach someone to behave!”

“You don’t have to convince us!” says Nate.

“Look, I need to make some calls,” says the old man. “Stay here and feel free to use the landline in the corner by the register. My name is Dave, by the way.”

“Thank you!” Nate calls after him as Dave looks for his cell phone. Camila picks up the landline and starts dialing, tapping her foot as it rings.

“Hello? Dad? Yeah. No. I can explain, just listen,” Camila says into the phone.

After almost half an hour, Camila walks over to Nate and taps him on the shoulder.

“I explained the whole situation to my dad. He’s coming to get me now,” Camila tells him. “I told him how they were treating us and he’s very angry. We’re going to go to the police so they can get those kids out and arrest Ms. Newton.”

“The police are already there. I just got off the phone with them,” Dave says as he walks toward the two. “They got Ryan out; he’s going to be okay.”

Camila sighs. “That’s a relief.”

“My nephew means the world to me and my sister. She just didn’t know what she was sending him to. That Ms. Newton woman—she talks a good game and just about tricked her into sending Ryan there,” he explains.

“Yeah, we know her,” Camila replies.

“Is there anything I can do to thank you two?” Dave tells them.

“We should be thanking you, sir,” Nate replies.

“Actually, there is something,” says Camila. “Nate’s hesitant to tell you, but he needs a job and somewhere to stay. He doesn’t have a home or parents to call. Do you think you could help?”

“Camila, I really can’t ask that—” Nate whispers to her.

“Well,” Dave says, rubbing his chin, “I am looking for some help around the shop. And it would be nice to have a young person around here again. Who knows, maybe Ryan might want to come for a while, too.”

“And I’d bet your sister would appreciate the help with him,” suggests Camila.

“Yeah, you make a good point there,” he says.

Just then, Dave’s cell phone rings in his pocket.

“I gotta take this. It’s about Ryan. Nate, if you’d like to stay, I’ll show you the ropes tomorrow. And we’ll talk with Ryan about you two coming aboard. In the meantime, there are extra bunks in the back on the right side,” he says as he walks away to answer the phone.

“Thank you!” Nate calls to Dave. He turns to Camila. “And thank you for helping find me a job and a place to stay. You didn’t have to do that.”

Headlights shine through the windows and light up the shop.

Camila waves him off. “I’m just glad it worked out. That’s my ride, but one last thing—”

She reaches for a pen near the register and writes her phone number down on a slip of paper.

“Call me when you want your flannel back,” she says as she points to her arm.

“I will, I promise,” he assures her, smiling.

Camila walks out the door, and her dad comes out of his car to hug her. Camila waves goodbye to Nate as they drive away.

As Nate walks back inside, he hears Dave shout from across the store.

“Hey, let’s get some food in you, kid. I bet you’re hungry!”

“Sounds good!” Nate shouts back, happy for the first time in a long while.