The minute Max slammed the newspaper on the lunch table in front of me, I knew something was up. “Boston Tea Party,” the caption read. It was my mother’s newspaper.
Max’s face is grim, his eyes like stone. “Last night some… rebels from the government– they were Minors–threw tea in Boston Harbor. I don’t know what’s going on, but… Olive, I think your mom is in trouble. They stopped printing the paper and the Greaters took every copy from our street. I snagged this one from Leland before they came there.” He says this without looking away from me. I’ve been slowly eating cold macaroni noodle by noodle, taking in his every word.
“What about the Greater Times?” I ask, referring to the other paper in the area.
“It’s the same story, but they called it the Boston Harbor Incident. Don’t know what the name has anything to do with it, but none of those were confiscated…” Ashley trails off and slides onto the bench next to me, pulling a copy out of her bag.
I don’t look at it. My mother has been running the North Andover Chronicle since before I was born. She knew what she was doing. I shouldn’t be worried, but the pit in the bottom of my stomach tightens, and I feel like I’ve been swallowing snakes. Something is going on.