Excerpt from Icarus by K. Ancrum, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

He slid across his own floors and made his way to the cold storage room.

This room should have been Icarus's bedroom, but their art needed the space.

Icarus swung the tube off his back and prepared Red Lenin for storage. Delicately stretching the canvas out to a frame its size, slipping it into a protective sheath, labeling it in fine print, and placing it in a storage locker with other originals of its size and environmental temperament.

"Is it un-damaged?"

Icarus whirled around.

His father, Angus Gallagher, never wore special socks but he was silent as death, always.

"It's fine, I think," Icarus replied. "I didn't inspect it. The air felt heavy ... like I wasn't alone." Admitting his negligence made him nervous.

Angus grunted in disapproval and opened the storage unit.

Icarus stood there, cheeks blazing, as his father undid all of his work, pulling Red Lenin back out into the light.

He scrutinized the print. Sniffed it, peering closely at the detail with the small retractable microscope he kept on a loop at his waist as Icarus waited. When he was finally satisfied, he resealed the painting.

"This is one I've seen in person. It was one of the first Mr. Black purchased. He had it in his room when we were in school ... " Angus trailed off without elaborating further. "I'll re-review security around the perimeter of the building. We'll break for two weeks, then start again if there aren't any discrepancies. Anything else out of the ordinary?"

"No, sir," Icarus said, eyes to the floor.

Angus Gallagher hummed low in his throat, then thrust an envelope under Icarus's chin.

"Your pay for the repair work you did on the frame of the Rothko. Spend what you need, save what you don't." Angus left as quietly as he arrived.

Icarus deflated with relief

breath

Icarus's bedroom was a walk-in closet. He kept it very clean because he had to; there wasn't enough room for mess.

The small space was taken up by his twin-size bed, and the shelves that lined it. At the foot of his bed the shelves were neatly packed with his books, trinkets, and work supplies. On the shelves at the head of his bed, his clothes were rolled tightly, military style, and organized by type and color. They were black or neutral so that it wasn't noticeable that he didn't have a wide selection. All pieces of impeccable quality.

When Icarus was fourteen, he had painted the ceiling of his closet-bedroom the colors of the sunrise. Now that he was planning to leave he was considering a repaint.

Icarus tossed his backpack onto his bed and changed his clothes in the hallway. He crept into bed, closing the closet door behind him. The envelope his father had given him was bulky and exciting. Icarus spread out the stack of fifty-dollar bills and counted them quickly, separating out $1,000 for savings, $500 for new supplies. Normally Angus didn't give him this much, but his work was getting really good. He had taken his time.

His cheeks pinked with pride.

Icarus tucked most of the bills into his small safe and put the rest in his spending pile to be taken to the bank. He had just under $7,000 but he wouldn't feel comfortable until it was $10,000. Couldn't feel safe until it was $15,000. Couldn't feel free unless it was $20,000. Enough to start over anywhere in the world.

He curled up under his quilt and went to sleep.

time

Icarus and Angus Gallagher had been stealing from Stuart Black for years.

Icarus's father had started alone, of course, but when Icarus was old enough and well trained, Angus began bringing him along.

Then, after a time, Angus made Icarus do it alone.

It was such a normal part of Icarus's life that he didn't think about it much anymore.

When he was in elementary school, he used to whine about not being able to have friends over to their house. He resented the gymnastics lessons and having to outwit their home security system to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Excerpted from Icarus by K. Ancrum. Copyright © 2024 by K. Ancrum. Excerpted by permission of HarperTeen. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.