Torched by April Henry Page A

About five years ago, he served two years in jail for an action. They offered him a deal if he would give up the others—and he wouldn’t. But staying involved in MED means that he risks more than any of the rest of us. That’s why he wants to make sure anyone who wants to join is committed.”
    Before the meeting had broken up, Cedar had explained to me that I had to pick a target, plan an action, take a photograph of myself there and then bring it back as proof. The photograph would not only get me in—it would also give the group leverage over me. It would prove that I was already guilty of a crime before I even joined MED.
    “Okay, let me give you some advice,” Coyote said. “Don’t pick something in your neighborhood, and don’t buy the supplies there, either. It probably sounds like overkill, but these are the kinds of things that have tripped people up in the past.”
    “But what should I hit?” Saying “hit” made me feel like an actor in a bad movie. This couldn’t be real.
    “Get out the yellow pages and take your pick. Golf courses, butcher shops, animal research facilities, SUV dealerships. Except you should start small. Bigger actions require more people and more planning.”
    “What have other MEDics hit?”
    “Well, a lot of people have picked McDonald’s because they generate so much trash and are destroying rain forests to plant soybeans to feed their chickens.”
    “That sounds good.” My parents had raised me to hate McDonald’s, so I didn’t even have a moral issue with the idea. I imagined myself lobbing a firebomb through a McDonald’s window one night and running like hell.
    Coyote turned practical. “But the problem is that a lot of them are open half the night, or have prep or cleanup staff there. You might want to target something quieter.”
    The bus stopped and let off an old man who had been sitting by the driver. Now we were the only passengers left. Still, I waited until we were rumbling down the street again before I asked my next question. “What was your first target?”
    He looked sheepish. “A Mickey D’s, actually. Glued the locks. And nearly got caught by the prep cook.”
    “Glued the locks?” I thought MED had been asking me to do something more dramatic than squirting glue in a lock.
    “Look, even if all you do is glue the locks closed, it still accomplishes a lot.” Coyote sounded a little defensive.
    “How?”
    “One, it makes them realize how vulnerable they are. Two, they can’t do any business as long as no one can get in. Three, they’ll have to call a locksmith, and those aren’t cheap. And it’s quick and easy. It takes less than one minute to glue the locks if you do it right. So with only one person, one minute and less than ten dollars’ worth of supplies, you can disrupt the whole apparatus.”
    “One minute?” I echoed. That didn’t sound that bad. I reached past him to ring the bell for my stop, bringing my face dangerously close to his. Suddenly, I wanted to kiss him, which was the stupidest thing. How could I want to kiss someone I was planning on selling out to the FBI? I sat back in my seat and tried to compose myself.
    Coyote half turned, so that he was even closer to me than before. “You know, when you asked about joining us, at first I thought it was a bad idea.”
    “Why?” I struggled to keep my expression neutral.
    “You’re younger than the rest of us. I thought maybe it was more your parents’ idea than yours. But now I know it was because you wanted it. And I’m glad. I wouldn’t want to have to keep secrets from you, Ellie.” He leaned even closer, and I caught my breath.
    “Thirty-fifth Avenue,” the bus driver called out. I saw him staring at us in the rearview mirror. I hadn’t even realized the bus had stopped.
    “Oops, this is me,” I said hurriedly. I got up and grabbed my backpack. “I’ll call you as soon as it’s over.”
    As I walked up my driveway, I saw Matt and Laurel through the kitchen