Hunter Moran Hangs Out by Patricia Reilly Giff Read Free Book Online

Appolonia! That reminds me: three books in three days! Three essays!
    I squint up. “
Frog and Toad
changed my life. I am now interested in aquatic wildlife.”
    Zack glances over at me. “You’re in sixth grade, Hunter. Sixth!”
    â€œWe’ll have to pick up some books at the library,” I say. “Skinny as possible.”
    â€œDidn’t we do that in the beginning of the summer?”
    Right. Whatever happened to them? Mrs. Wu is going to have a fit; they’ll be overdue about two months’ worth.And we don’t even have enough life savings for the overdue fines.
    There’s no hope for it. We’ll have to (a) find them or (b) face Mrs. Wu at the library for another pile. I’m wrung out just thinking about it.
    I lean forward, looking at the rows of words Zack is arranging.
    What pops up is the word
KILL
.
    This is worse than kidnapping. Much worse.
    But wait. Arrange some letters differently, and you get
cell
. . . And another few:
others
. “Others in the cellar?” I yell. A chill runs through me, even though it’s about ninety-eight degrees in the bedroom.
    â€œWe have to get down into the cellar of the used-to-be-empty house,” Zack says. “Free those victims before . . .” He runs his finger across his throat.
    I shake my head. I can barely go down into our own cellar with that maybe-alligator lumbering around in the dark.
    â€œThis is the perfect opportunity,” Zack says. “We know the kidnapper isn’t there. He’s just driven off in that piece of junk.”
    â€œSuppose he comes back,” I begin.
    Zack puts on an irritable face. “You heard the sound of that car. Don’t you think we’ll know when he pulls into the driveway?”
    â€œAnd what about the accomplice?”
    â€œTwo against one,” Zack says.
    We pass Linny’s room again. I don’t even see her braid. Then we head across the street to the empty house and maybe the end of us.

Chapter 13
    We go straight to the back of the used-to-be-empty house and peer down the cellar stairs. We know what we’re doing now. We avoid the mouse corpse and peer in the window.
    Yes, there’s the table and the saw hanging next to it.
    Zack turns the handle. The door swings open.
    â€œThat’s trespassing,” I say. “We can’t go all the way in.”
    Zack nods. “It’s kind of a surprise, though. If we can get in, why can’t the victims get out?”
    â€œThey might be handcuffed,” I say. “Or foot-cuffed.”
    I shield my eyes against the cellar darkness. What do I see? Boxes. Shelves with books and papers piled high.
    I lean in a little farther. I don’t see the step in front of me until it’s too late.
Oof!
I’m down on the cement floor, setting off a gong that’s so loud my ears ring.
    I sprawl there, frozen, trespassing. Next to me, Zack is frozen, too. The whole neighborhood probably heard that.
    â€œA bell,” Zack whispers from the steps. “Just a bell. A huge bell. Nothing to be afraid of.”
    I’m afraid. I’m definitely afraid.
    We hear a creak upstairs, over our heads. And then there’s another.
    â€œSomeone’s up there,” Zack says. “Get up. We have to get out.”
    I peer at the narrow stairs leading to the killer’s lair. It’s a repeat of
Nest of Aliens
, Wednesday afternoon, four o’clock.
    The door opens and here comes the kidnapper.
    I’m stuck. Why can’t I move?
    My T-shirt is caught in the door, my ankle in the bell rope. I kick my leg free and grab the edge of the shirt, pulling it almost free. A huge chunk of it is still imprisoned inside.
    The kidnapper clumps down the stairs.
    Poor Mom. Zack and I will be gone forever. And there’re still Steadman and Linny to worry about.
    Zack pulls me, yanks me by the hair, the neck, wherever he can reach.
    I’m scrambling backward. I see