“Are you sure?” I ask, and Adam nods. I slip on the jacket, which is still warm from his body heat, and pull the hood over my head to cover my damp hair. “Thanks.”

“So what now?” Trent asks, lighting another cigarette. “How do we—”

“Police! ” shouts a man down the alley. “Put your hands up!”

Through the splattering rain, I see two people who look like members of a SWAT team or something. They wear dark-blue body armor that reads POLICE along the shoulder and full helmets with clear visors. Both have heavy utility belts with large guns, more like assault rifles than handguns, and they each carry something like a baton that lights up at the top.

I raise my hands slowly. This might be a mistake. Or it might be related to everything else that’s going on.

Adam steps in front of us, his hands up. “What’s the problem, officers?”

“Aid-Mart reported a theft in their store. We tracked the item to this location.”

That’s the name of the drugstore Chris and Trent went to. Dammit, Trent! He just had to go and steal something and get us all in trouble. I could kill him myself. We should tell them we aren’t with him and let him deal with the repercussions. I don’t owe him anything, and Trent deserves whatever he gets for being a pendejo.

“I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding,” says Adam.

The cop points his baton at Trent. “Is that a cigarette?”

Trent freezes, with the butt smoking faintly in the rainy haze. “Yeah?”

The second cop turns to the first. “Shoplifting and drug possession. That’s enough to bring them in.”

“Drug possession?” Trent asks. His cigarette drops to the ground.

The cops both take a step forward, and the first one raises his baton. “Don’t move. You’re under arrest.”

Oh shit. These cops are serious. Would they really arrest Trent for smoking? Are cigarettes illegal now?

I’m tempted to leave him, but we can’t abandon Trent, no matter how much we might want to. And we can’t afford to get arrested either. Who knows how long we’d be locked up? A few hours? A day? No way—we’d miss the aperture opening again and be stuck in the future forever.

I lock eyes with Chris, and I can tell he’s come to the same conclusion. I tilt my head toward the other end of the alley, and he nods. Trent’s eyes widen, but I know he understands. We have to run.

Chris bursts into action, grabbing the edge of a dumpster and swinging it between us and the cops. Zoe and Trent take off running in the opposite direction, but Adam just stands there with his hands still up. I grab his arm and yank him down the alley. “Come on!”

“But—”

“Freeze!” the police yell.