Free Found by Margaret Peterson Haddix Page A

windows behind Mr. Reardon’s desk. He glanced back at the floor a second time, at Katherine’s red-striped shoelaces flapping out loose and dangling down beside the leg of the chair.
    Hmm. Windows. Shoelaces.
    Jonah pitched forward.
    “Hey, Katherine,” he said loudly, “your shoelaces are untied.”
    For a moment, Jonah was afraid that she wasn’t going to react—why was she acting so freaky? But then she did lean forward, at least enough so that their heads were below the level of the desk, out of sight. Then Jonah could whisper, directly into her ear, “I’m going to distract Mr. Reardon. Look inside that file on his desk. Memorize as much of it as you can.”
    Katherine nodded—or, at least, Jonah thought she did. He didn’t really have time to make sure. He straightened up.
    “Well,” Mom was saying, starting to stand up. “We do appreciate you meeting with us, like I said before. But—”
    “What’s that?” Jonah interrupted, pointing out the window. He sincerely hoped Mr. Reardon had never been a middle-school teacher, because if he had, he’d never fall for this. But Jonah tried not to think about that. He made his voice sound innocent and stunned. “Was that, like, a ball of flame?”
    He jumped up and dashed behind Mr. Reardon’s desk. This was the risky part. He spun Mr. Reardon’s chair around, to face it toward the window.
    Katherine—now! He thought. But he couldn’t glance back to make sure she was following instructions. He had to think about his own part.
    “Look, Mr. Reardon,” he cried. “Can you—” he tried to act as though a horrifying thought had just occurred to him. “—Can you see the airport from here?”
    Mr. Reardon did stand up and peer out the window. It was getting dark outside, and the glass was tinted. The only thing Jonah could really see was parking-lot lights. But Jonah hoped it took Mr. Reardon a long time to figure that out.
    Mom and Dad were clustered by the window too.
    “We are awfully close to the airport,” Mom murmured. “Oh, those poor people…”
    Thanks, Mom. Nice touch.
    “I don’t see anything,” Mr. Reardon said. Was there a flicker of suspicion in his voice?
    “Maybe we’re at the wrong angle,” Jonah said. He crouched down a little, pointed. “Over to the right, I think—”
    “There’s nothing out there,” Mr. Reardon said, and he sounded certain now.
    “Wow, that’s weird,” Jonah said. “Are you sure? From where I was sitting, it looked like…”
    He shouldn’t have said, “where I was sitting.” Mom, Dad, and Mr. Reardon all turned around, looking toward Jonah’s chair. Fortunately, Katherine wasn’t poring over the folder at that moment; she was leaning against the edge of Mr. Reardon’s desk closest to the window, her arms behind her, her gaze fixed straight ahead—as if she, too, were engrossed in searching for Jonah’s mysterious light.
    But how could she possibly have had enough time to look in the folder, memorize whatever was in there, and then position herself in front of the desk?
    Jonah’s heart sank. His big act had been for nothing.
    “I guess—I guess it must have just been a reflection,” he said.
    Some of the disappointment must have crept into his voice, making it sound like he’d really been hoping to see a dramatic plane crash, because Mom said, a little disapprovingly, “Thank goodness that’s all it was.”
    Then Mr. Reardon was showing them out, down the hallway, through the waiting area, out into the parking lot. Jonah didn’t see a single other janitor, with or without Mountain Dew. Jonah held Katherine back as they approached the car, as soon as they were out of Mr. Reardon’s view.
    “Did you get to see any of those papers?” he whispered.
    “Not really,” she admitted.
    “Thanks a lot,” Jonah said bitterly. He knew it wasn’t really fair to be mad at her. She hadn’t had any time. Still…
    “I did better than that.” Katherine held up the cell phone. “I got