Running Out of Time by Margaret Peterson Haddix Read Free Book Online Page B

hazel. But hers were impatient, curious, and she had never seen his look that way.
    Standing back far enough to see her jacket and jeans, Jessie examined herself carefully so she would be able to compare herself with the real 1996 people. The coat Ma called a windbreaker was kind of pretty, even though it looked boyish. She unzipped it far enough to see the thing Ma called a T-shirt. It was yellow and had a huge black circle imprinted on it, with a line and two dots inside. It sort of looked like a smiling face, maybe on some stick figure Katie or one of the other little children drew in the dust.
    While Jessie was staring at herself, she heard another whoosh and a girl stepped out from one of the other bathroom stalls. Jessie pretended to concentrate on combing her hair, but watched the girl carefully. She had fluffy blond hair that stood straight out from the sides of her face, almost as though it had been frozen in the wind. Her pants were the things Ma called blue jeans, but they were faded and much tighter than Jessie’s. And her purple flowered top looked nothing like Jessie’s T-shirt. Patting her hair, the girl stepped to a counterin front of the mirror and turned a knob. Water gushed out of a shiny metal loop.
    â€œWhat’s wrong? Never seen anybody wash their hands before?” the girl asked.
    Jessie didn’t know what to say. Could the girl tell Jessie wasn’t used to the twentieth century? Would she summon the guards?
    Before Jessie could come up with a good answer, the girl shrugged, pulled a sheet of paper out of a nearby container, wiped off her hands, and threw the paper into a can. Then she left, as though she didn’t care why Jessie had been staring.
    Jessie didn’t think the girl was going to tell anyone about her. Still, she decided she’d better leave the bathroom. But first, she tried turning the same knob, and again water came pouring out. What a place this world-outside-Clifton was!
    After following the same ritual as the girl before her—even throwing away the paper, as crazy as that seemed—Jessie stepped out into the giant room she’d been in the night before.
    The largest room Jessie had ever seen before this one was Seward’s store, and it was always crowded with spices, cloth, barrels, and everything else Clifton needed. Only five or six people could fit inside comfortably at one time. This room was open and airy, with glass in the ceiling that let in bright sunlight. About the only furniture was a cluster of tables and chairs at the other end, where the guards had had coffee the night before. But the room was hardly empty: It was packed with people. Maybe two hundred, Jessie calculated in amazement, more than in all of Clifton. And many of themappeared to be about Jessie’s age. They sat along the walls, milled around in the open areas, hovered over the tables.
    Anxious to fit in, Jessie couldn’t help staring as she’d stared at the girl in the bathroom. Many of the other children wore blue jeans, but some jeans were a darker blue than Jessie’s, and some were faded almost white. Some were skintight and some were so loose it seemed miraculous that they didn’t fall off.
    Jessie thought maybe her jeans looked okay.
    The other children’s shirts and jackets were very different, though, many with bright patterns that almost glowed. Jessie’s top definitely stood out. But no one else seemed to notice. No one looked at Jessie at all. The other children were too busy talking, laughing, and even screaming.
    â€œâ€”and then he goes—”
    â€œWho you going out with tonight?”
    â€œâ€”and we were at the mall and then—”
    Jessie had never heard so many voices at once. It hurt her ears. It would be easy to leave unnoticed, she decided, but she leaned against the wall for a minute longer, trying to get used to all the noise.
    â€œKids, come on. It’s your turn for the tour.”
    Jessie turned