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knows, beyond the shadow of any doubt, that tranq guns will play heavily in his future.

Unfinished Symphony
Co-authored with Michelle Knowlden
    Brooklyn Ward moves through the concrete playground like water streaming through a gutter, nearly invisible, carrying flotsam and secrets in her wake. She sees four boeufs from her squad in a pickup game, shouting, the ball hurtling across the court. She melts into the shadow cast by the five-story Ohio State Home 23 and turns the corner to a side yard. She is on a mission. She cannot be seen.
    After making sure no one is there to spot her, she tests the door to the south stairwell. Unlocked. Like Thor said.
    Now to find out what Thor wants her to do before she goes through that door. Taking a breath, she pulls the hood of her jacket over her face and moves across the side yard to the ten-foot wall that stands between the school and the outside world. Her heart is pounding. This is the only part of the side yard that cannot be seen by security cameras, but any teachers or any state ward glancing out of the small windows might see her. She has few friends in the home and fewer privileges after Tuesday’s brawl. With Thor’s help, she hopes that will change.
    She finds a spot in the side yard where she has a good angle on the hallway windows, all the way up to the fifth floor. Someone moves past the window on the fourth floor, but doesn’t look out. If they did, they might recognize her, because that’s Brooklyn’s floor, a long institutional hallway lined with identical dorm rooms. There are nine other girls in Brooklyn’s room: most are still fifteen, but a few have just turned sixteen like her. Most everyone will be in their rooms or the small rec lounge today, since Sunday is the only day they’re allowed real downtime. The girly-girls will be all about boys and gossip and classes and clothes. The boeuf girls will be all about boys and gossip and classes and guns. Even though the girls in her room are the closest thing she knows to a family, she’s in no hurry to get back to the petty squabbles and mind-numbing conversations.
    No one on the fourth floor so much as glances out of the hallway window—but one level up, on floor five, Thor appears. They are partners in this mission, but he sent her down here alone, as he always does—this time, however, he didn’t tell her exactly what the mission was. Today he refused to tell her until she was in position—which means it’s probably something Brooklyn would balk at if she knew in advance. She wonders if Thor realizes how much more excited that makes Brooklyn at the prospect.
    In the fifth-floor window, Thor flashes the sign for “all clear” and then “ground floor.” The next sign she misses. When she signals him to repeat, she reads impatience in his response. He moves his hands a little more slowly, exaggerating the gestures as if to an idiot.
    Headmaster .
    She swallows. Really? He wants her to snoop through the headmaster’s office? She spreads her hands. For what? And he better have a good reason. If she gets caught, it’s over for her.
    She sees his answer— New state reports —then she thinks he signs Rumor . Not specific and not helpful. She cuts off another string of signs that are hard to read from five floors below with an abrupt Okay . Satisfied, Thor leaves the window to return to his room, and Brooklyn crosses the side yard to the unlocked stairwell door.
    She moves through the ground-floor hallway, taking the long way to the headmaster’s office. In the distance she hears the cries of a younger child. The echo is hollow and ghostly. No way of telling exactly where the child is. No one will calm those cries anyway. Not enough staff. Toughen up, kid, thinks Brooklyn, or you’ll get eaten alive.
    From outside comes the atonal sound of bouncing balls on the concrete playground. Then, from farther down the hall, she hears something