Sienna's P.O.V.

Freedom looked like a diner apron. That was not poetic. The apron was ugly. Brown. One pocket had a bleach stain shaped like Florida. Macy had written **THIEF** across the inside tag because I kept stealing hers when mine disappeared. I loved it.

Mr. Hal

Roman's P.O.V.

I had rehearsed the truth for ten years. That was the first lie I told myself. I had rehearsed excuses. The truth was shorter. Sienna sat across from me in the small office with the door open. Judge stood outside. Not in the room. She had told him to stay

Sienna's P.O.V.

The first thing I heard outside church was Riot yelling.

The second was Judge saying, "Sit the fuck down."

I opened the door. Nobody sat. Excellent. Roman stood near the far wall. Judge was behind the table. Riot had both palms flat against it like t