The Freedom of Navid Leahy Read Online Free PDF Page A

mother waiting for him to come home to dinner. With the ship in sight below him, he’d broken his promise to her after all.
    â€œLet me see your hands,” a solider demanded. “There’s paint on your fingers. You’re the vandal destroying Zunft property.”
    There was no paint on his hands, but Navid didn’t say a word.
    â€œYou know what we do with vandals?” another soldier asked, shaking Navid so hard that he bit his tongue as his hand bobbed around.
    Some workmen had left a pot of glue and some brushes nearby. A tarp had been laid neatly over the worksite by whatever cottager would be returning tomorrow to finish the job. The soldiers dragged Navid over to the edge of the roof. He wished he could sprout wings like an albatross, fly down, and perch on the prow of the stately ship. Instead, the soldiers pressed his hands against the wooden barrier that protected people from falling off the edge. They slathered his fingers with the thick, toxic glue that burned his skin. The paste hardened quickly and Navid couldn’t pull away. He struggled like a fox in a snare and when he screamed again, the soldier punched him and everything turned black.
    When he woke up, his head was resting on the barrier so the mast ship appeared to be sailing toward him at a strange, sideways angle. He arms were twisted from when he fell unconscious, and his hands still mired in the rock-hard paste. The soldiers were gone.
    â€œNavid?” It was Aron’s voice.
    He tried to get his eyes to focus on Aron, whose face was tight with fear. His former friend had a glass bottle in each hand.
    â€œI’ve got vinegar,” Aron said. “I think we can get your hands free with that.”
    â€œThank you,” Navid said. The sun was almost gone now. He was now very late for dinner.
    Aron poured the vinegar over Navid’s hands. It loosened the paste up somewhat, but they couldn’t break him free.
    â€œDo you want me to get your father?” Aron asked.
    Navid shook his head. “I’ll just pull really hard.”
    â€œWon’t that hurt?” Aron asked.
    Navid didn’t care. Panic clattered around inside his ribcage. He had to get free. He jostled his trapped hands, which intensified his claustrophobia. With all the power he could muster, he yanked his hands away and howled with pain as the skin was torn away.
    â€œOh,” Aron said with horror. They could see glimpses of white around the bloody raw meat that been his been his palms. “Is that bone?”
    â€œI’m going to be sick,” Navid mumbled.
    â€œI’ll get you home,” Aron said quietly.
    â€œI hate the Zunft,” Navid said when stumbled back onto the street. It was dark and deserted, which was good, because Navid’s hands were dripping blood. “And my father hates them too.”
    Aron nodded. “I know.”
    The world faded in and out as he walked; every step jerked his hands and made him whimper. Aron took his elbow and steered him in a straight line. When they reached the Leahy house, Aron helped Navid sit on the stone steps.
    â€œThat was impressive, what you did on the conveyor,” Aron said.
    Navid lay his head down on his knees. Aron rapped on the door. They could hear footsteps coming down the hall. His mother or father would be there soon.
    Aron moved down the street, not wanting to be there when the door opened. “I’ll see you in school, okay?”
    Navid tried to nod, but he was falling backward onto the stoop. No, it was into his father’s arms. “I’m sorry I missed dinner,” he tried to say, but no one seemed to hear him.
    The next few hours were a blur of pain, his mother’s eyes brimming with tears, and his father’s jaw locked tight. They gave him root tea, which made him drowsy and took the pain away. Nova James came with garden herbs that they laid on his ruined hands. All the while, he heard the rustling of the Great