Hot for Hostage

by Maggie Evans

Good thing we hadn’t counted on their help. An ambulance followed the convoy of squad cars, and my father’s Bentley pulled in behind them. That wasn’t surprising. He had a habit of showing up as soon as the action died down. “Lord above.” Gladys gave a low whistle as the squad cars all swerved into the cul-de-sac and parked haphazardly. “That’s a lot of coppers.” Sadie slowly lifted her arms into the air and started to lower herself to the ground. I grabbed her waist to stop her. “What the hell are you doing?” “Surrendering,” she answered while trying to wiggle out of my grasp, but I wasn’t letting her go anywhere. … Surrendering? “For what?” I asked, genuinely confused. “You were the one taken captive.” “Today, sure. But what about yesterday? I stole a gun and took you hostage,” she whispered urgently, glancing at the cops jumping out of their cars and heading toward us. Her arms trembled. “I don’t think I’ll do well in jail, Dav. They use cigarettes as currency in the movies, and my school had a police officer come talk to us about how bad drugs are. He made all the fifth-graders sign little cards promising we’d never even touch them. Plus, I’ve never made a shiv before. I don’t know how. Although, I once made a spatula out of recycled⁠—”