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

the dangerous accomplice looking down.
    He yells. I yell. And then I’m free. Zack and I race down the weedy driveway as I hold what’s left of my T-shirt together. We don’t stop until we’ve gone all the way to the end of the street.
    We sink down in the alleyway between the library and Vinny’s Vegetables and Much More. Next door, Yulefski is bent over backward, heading up the library steps. She’sholding a pile of books that go from under her chin to her knees. No wonder Sister Appolonia thinks she’s a star.
    â€œWasn’t there a book we read a long time ago?” I snap my fingers. “Maybe we could use that for a report. You know, it was about three animals who got lost. One was a dog, one was a tiger, maybe. Or was it an antelope? Something like that.”
    â€œA cat,” Zack says. “And we saw it in a play. The whole school saw it. Sister Appolonia loved it.”
    I raise my shoulders in the air. We’ll really have to read.
    â€œNo more than seventy pages,” Zack says.
    â€œFifty,” I say, and we haul ourselves up the stone steps and into the library.
    Mrs. Wu is at the desk, talking to someone about old cars. A huge someone with hair the color of Nana’s pudding.
    From the back, he looks familiar. He turns, but I don’t have time for more than a quick look. Zack is dragging me away, down the aisle, around the corner, into the biography section.
    He leans against the bookshelves. “Did you see?” He sounds as if he’s strangling.
    And then it comes to me. Talking to Mrs. Wu, standing right out in the open, is the kidnapper. I look around. No, the accomplice isn’t there. He’s still in the used-to-be-empty house guarding victims.
    â€œOh, the brazenness,” Zack says. That’s Sister Appolonia’s favorite word.
    We hear those footsteps,
clunk, clunk
. He’s in the next aisle.
    Zack leans forward into the shelf. About twenty books crash through to the other side, probably landing on the kidnapper’s foot.
    It doesn’t bother the kidnapper. He’s talking to someone. “Are you here all by yourself?” he asks.
    That’s the most dangerous thing I can imagine a kidnapper asking.
    I peer forward, but I can only see feet: the kidnapper’s, probably size 100 workman type, and the other, a little kid’s sneakers. They look familiar, almost like my old ones.
    Zack is clutching me, but I’m trying to see. Yes, they’re really my sneakers. I recognize the hole in the toe. They’re the ones . . .
    The ones . . .
    â€œI’m looking for my brothers,” the little kid says. “We’re on the trail of a kidnapper.”
    Steadman! He’s crossed Murdock Avenue by himself, the busiest street in town, and now he’s having a conversation with the most dangerous man on the East Coast.
    â€œMy dog’s outside,” Steadman goes on. “He’s not allowed in the library.”
    â€œWhat kind of a dog?” the man says.
    â€œPretty vicious. He gave my sister’s friend, Becca, a bite she’ll never forget. I’m the only one who knows how to handle him.”
    Zack and I stare at each other, making motions. What to do?
    We have to be brave. We have to act fast. We take a deep breath; then we march around the side of the book stacks to confront the kidnapper and pull Steadman away before it’s too late.
    And that’s almost what we do. We don’t confront the kidnapper, we don’t even look at him. We grab Steadman, pick up a couple of books that are lying on the floor, and head out.
    â€œSee you,” Steadman says to the kidnapper.
    And then somehow I feel courage welling up in my chest. “I know what you’re up to,” I call back over my shoulder. “But we’re watching you.”
    We don’t wait to hear what the guy says. It’s only two steps to the door.
    But Mrs. Wu is tapping her