Free Blair’s Nightmare by Zilpha Keatley Snyder

his mental ability, but also to walk—pushing a wreck of a bike—all the way from his parents’ chicken ranch to the Westerly House. It was pretty depressing. After dinner David went out and oiled his bicycle.
    The next day was warm and sunny, and David got a specially early start on the ride to school. He got in and out of Mrs. Baldwin’s class without any trouble, except that Garveyseemed to be trying to catch his eye all the time. Whenever he did, he gave David a big, wide, leering smile. He was obviously trying to get something across, and it didn’t take much imagination to figure out what it was. David didn’t like to think about it.
    At noon that day in the cafeteria everybody at the table was talking about the escaped convicts. Jerry Murphy’s father was a sheriff’s deputy, and Jerry had listened in on some of his father’s phone conversations and gotten a lot of new information. It seemed that there had been a work crew from the prison who were building a firebreak on Curry Mountain, and one night two of the prisoners had overpowered a guard, stolen his gun and escaped. The sheriff’s bloodhound had followed their trail down to the Fillmore foothills. The bloodhound had even located a campsite where it looked as if they’d stayed for a while. But that had been a couple of days ago, and since that time the sheriff and his men hadn’t had any luck.
    â€œSomething went wrong with the sheriff’s dog,” Jerry said. “Right after he found the campfire, he was circling around, hit a scent and went tearing off through the woods baying like crazy. My dad and the other guys started running after him, and all at once he came barrelling back ki-yiing like a scared puppy. After that he just wouldn’t try anymore. Whenever they take him out there to the woods, he just sits down and shivers.”
    â€œHey,” David said. “I’ll bet he found the prisoners and they did something to him. Like beat him or kicked him, so now he’s afraid to find them again. Did he have any wounds or anything?”
    â€œNo,” Jerry said. “But my dad thinks something like that happened. He thinks they must have done something to him to scare him so bad.”
    â€œHey, Stanley,” a guy named Bob Alquist said. “You guys live in that old house out on Westerly Road, don’t you? That old house way out there by itself near the Fillmore Hills? Boy, I wouldn’t want to live out there right now.”
    â€œYeah,” David said in an unconcerned tone of voice. “We’ve been taking precautions. Since we heard about it we’ve been locking everything up at night.”
    Everybody at the table looked at David as if they were really impressed that he was so cool about the whole thing.
    â€œActually,” David said, “on Saturday I went out scouting around in the hills behind our place. You know, just to be sure. I didn’t see any sign of them though.”
    â€œSure you did,” Jerry said.
    â€œIt’s the truth,” David said, “believe it or not.” It was, too. He had been out in the hills on Saturday. He didn’t see the need to mention that Amanda had been with him, or that he hadn’t really heard about the escaped prisoners until afterwards.
    That afternoon when David pedaled, tired and sweaty, into the driveway, Janie was sitting on the front steps. Janie had always been small for her age, and sitting there alone on the broad veranda steps with her back very straight and her hands folded in her lap, she looked like an underdeveloped Barbie doll. The minute he saw her, an automatic Janie alarm went off like a silent siren. The thing was, he’d learned from long experience that when Janie looked particularly cute and harmless, it paid to be on your toes. The minute she saw him she jumped up and came running down the driveway.
    â€œHi, David,” she yelled as he climbed off his bike.