Eleven by Patricia Reilly Giff Read Free Book Online Page A

how hard this time was.”
    Now he stared down at the booklet in front of him. Mack had said,
“It's terrible to be alone.”
    Had Mack been alone too?
    And
“It's what 1 always did.”
    He'd never seen Mack angry. Never seen Mack pounding on a block of wood. But Mack had known how he felt.
    “Let's go, guys,” Mrs. Waring said from the front.
    The third sentence in the booklet was something to do with water.
    He looked down at the schedule. Ferry. That was it.
    Summer Ferry Hours.
    A
boat schedule.
    He wondered where the boat came from, and where it went.

10
Clues
    From the corner of his eye, Sam saw movement in the door window. Caroline? Yes, there she was in the hall, her glasses sliding down her nose, one hand waving to get his attention.
    Sam didn't look at Mrs. Waring. He went to the front of the room, picked up the pass, and was out of there. He went down the hall with Caroline, trying to think of a place to go.
    They climbed to the third floor and stood at the top of the stairs. “One thing,” Caroline said. “We should have remembered to look at the newspaper clipping to see where the accident happened.”
    “You're right,” he said slowly, shaking his head.
    “Even the name of the paper might help, and the date.”
    Sam blew air through his lips. The clipping was still in the attic. He'd have to go back again. But not on the ladder,not on the pipe. He'd be crazy to do that. He'd have to wait until he could go through Mack's bedroom.
    Caroline was tapping his arm. “If we knew where the paper was from, we could use the computer in the Media Center and find the paper from the next day, and the day after that.”
    She leaned closer. “After all, we know you're alive.” She grinned. “Barely.”
    He tried to grin back. “I have the other papers in my pocket. A ferry schedule. And one thing,” he said, using her words. “I did a little figuring. The ferries ran often, so wherever it was, I don't think it was a long trip.”
    They sat on the top step, and he handed the rest of the papers to her.
    “Here's a driver's license belonging to Mack,” Caroline said. “It's from Florida.” She pushed at her glasses, counting. “Eight years ago.”
    “I was three.”
    She looked up. “And here's something else.”
    He leaned over to see the scrap of paper, water-stained the way the sails of the boat had been:
Children's Home, 11 th Street.
    He closed his eyes.
    “Sam?”
    He didn't answer. What he'd remembered had been true. The white kitchen, the terrible woman, the boy with the flapping hands, even Night Cat, darting under the table, afraid too.
    The tile wall next to him was cold; he was cold. This was even worse than seeing that clipping for the first time. Mackcouldn't be his grandfather, Lydia couldn't be his grandmother. And who knew who his parents were?
    There was a clanking sound on the railing: Mr. Ramon banging his keys. He glared at them from the bottom of the stairs. “Again I find you where you shouldn't be.” He raised his eyebrows at Caroline. “Haven't you been here only a month or two?”
    “I guess.”
    “And already you've linked up with Sam MacKenzie.”
    Bell.
    Caroline's face was red as they took the stairs. They passed the assistant principal and scurried down the hall away from him.
    Sam left her at the classroom door. “I'm sorry I got you in trouble,” he said.
    “I don't care. I'll be out of here in a couple of weeks, a month at most.”
    He went back to the Resource Room. Mrs. Waring glanced up at the wall clock when she saw him. “The time is up anyway.”
    “Sorry,” he said again.
    He couldn't stop thinking about it. Even when he got ready for bed, the words were in his head, in his throat:
Children's Home, 11th Street.
    “I wish you could talk,” he told Night Cat. “And tell us where we've been.”
    And Caroline. He couldn't imagine school without her anymore.

Sam's Bream
    The sails flapped overhead as they threaded their way
    through the ice.
    Islands of