Free Runaways by Zilpha Keatley Snyder

that Pixie’s face was not going to be all that easy to read. Stormy’s, on the other hand, was only too easy, and what it was registering at the moment was suspicion and something pretty close to shock.
    “Are you—I mean—are your folks really spies?”
    “Yeah, spies? Are they spies?” another voice chimed in, and it wasn’t until then that Dani noticed that the fifth- and sixth-grade bunch had edged its way back into hearing distance. It was Eddie Bailey, Bob’s sixth-grade brother, who was asking. “Are you guys really spies?”
    Pixie looked bewildered. “Spies?” Turning to Dani, she said, “What do they mean, spies?”
    But just at that moment the bell rang for the end of the upper grades’ recess. On their way back to the classroom Dani whispered, “It’s just a stupid rumor. I guess some of the kids are saying that your folks are spies.” She laughed. “And that’s just for starters. There’s a whole lot of even more ridiculous stuff going around.”
    Pixie hung back, asking questions like “What kind of stuff?” “Who said it?” and “What did they say?”
    So Dani began to explain but she hardly got into the rumors about the counterfeit money printing press, and barely mentioned the one about Frankenstein-type scientists. Pixie was obviously interested, hanging on to Dani’s arm to keep her from leaving, and asking all kinds of questions.
    “Hey, we’ve got to go in,” Dani told her finally. “Mr. Graham is really fussy about coming in after the second bell. I’ll tell you some more later.” One thing she especially wanted to tell Pixie was that she’d just have to get used to the fact that in crummy little hick towns like Rattler Springs people didn’t have anything better to do than make up stupid rumors about everything and everybody.
    Back at her seat Dani got out her math book, checked the seventh-grade assignment on the board and started to work. But every now and then she glanced back at the fifth-grade corner, where, considering the fact that she’d just been accused of being a spy or something even worse, Pixie was behaving in a surprisingly normal manner. Watching her, Dani felt puzzled and strangely fascinated.
    It was partly, she told herself, a certain amount of sympathy for someone who was going to be going through a lot of the same kind of Rattler Springs torment that she’d been through her own self. But there was more to it than that. Some of it was how hard the new girl was to figure out. Usually when you met new people you started forming a kind of mental picture of them right off the bat. Sometimes the picture changed later on, but it tended to be a gradual kind of thing. The Pixie picture seemed to be nothing but changes. A change every split second. Like one of those little moving-picture books that you flip with your thumbnail, and as the pages turn a figure runs and jumps, or a face smiles and frowns. That was it, she decided. That was what the new girl made her think of. A thumbnail movie book.
    When Mr. Graham dismissed the class that afternoon he called the new girl up to his desk to “go over a list of books and supplies you’re going to need.” At least that was what he said he wanted to talk to her about, but Dani thought there was more to it than that. Watching Mr. Graham and the Portia/Pixie character chatting away while most of the class dawdled and fooled around on their way out, Dani wondered if what he really was doing was trying to keep the new girl from being picked on. Trying to keep her safely in the room until some of the most dangerous types, like Ronnie Grabler, for instance, had given up and gone on home.
    After a while Dani pretended to give up too and went outside. She was still walking very slowly toward the road when Pixie finally came out.
    “Wait. Wait a minute, Dani.” Pixie was running after her. “I have to talk to you.”
    What Pixie wanted to talk about, of course, was all the rumors about her folks. “Tell me about it