Hunter Moran Hangs Out by Patricia Reilly Giff

“Everything’s quiet all over town,” she says.
    A moment later, the door to the used-to-be-empty house flies open. The huge hulk of the kidnapper comes out and barrels up his driveway, his sneakers, elephant sized, pounding against the cement.
    We don’t stop for a breath. We dive down the tree, the branches swaying as if we’re in a hurricane, and barrel after him.
    He crosses the street.
    It’s our house he’s after.
    But no, he doesn’t even give it a glance.
    We see him passing the streetlight. A moment later, he crosses Murdock Avenue and goes in through the gates of the town round.
    Mom would be there, walking with Pop, if the baby, K.G., weren’t on his way.
    The napper’s heading around the round now, just like a regular jogger, but he doesn’t fool us. He turns, and we dive into a bush. Has he seen us? It’s entirely possible.
    Footsteps come up behind us now. The accomplice? I swing around, ready to defend myself, who knows how?
    â€œIt’s Yulefski following us,” I say.
    â€œHunter,” she says, hands on her hips, elbows like coat hangers. “Have you gone crazy? What are you two doing in the bushes?”
    Zack gives her a
zip the lip
, and I pull her into the bushes, whispering furiously, pointing to the kidnapper, who’s coming around our side of the round. “Do you want the kidnapper to hear? He’s already sent us a ransom note. He really means business.”
    She frowns. “The only way to see the kidnapper is from the lookout tower.” Then she stops, mouth open. She points at the kidnapper.
    She bends over, hands on her knees, laughing through those disgusting braces of hers. “You think he—” She breaks off, trying to catch her breath. “That he . . .”
    â€œSpit it out,” Zack says.
    She shakes her head. She can’t talk. And here comes the kidnapper.
    I try to cover her mouth, a little too hard, I guess.
    She yells,
“Ouch!”
The kidnapper hesitates, then keeps going.
    â€œYou think . . . ,” she begins again, and shakes her head. “What a pair of idiots. While the kidnapper is roaming free in town, you are chasing the new principal of St. Ursula’s School.”

Chapter 15
    How can I sleep? We’ve yelled at the new principal, we still haven’t tackled the summer reading, and worst of all, we’re being menaced by a kidnapper we still haven’t found.
    Weighty, very weighty.
    But I have to sleep. It’s the only way out.
    And so the room is pitch-black and the pillow is jammed over my head when I hear Linny screaming down the hall.
    Fred is barking, growling, howling.
    In one motion, I’m out of bed. I grab one of the library books; it’s the heaviest thing in the room. Zack’s out of bed, too. He’s holding the lamp over his head, the wire trailing.
    Zack’s eyes are like pizzas in the darkness. “We can do this. We have to save our sister.”
    What is it she’s shouting?
    We tiptoe to the bedroom door and ease it open. We have to surprise the kidnapper. It’s our only hope.
    â€œPeaches!” she shouts above Fred’s horrendous noise.
    Peaches?
    Fred grabs the lamp cord and shakes it so hard that Zack drops the lamp on my foot. The lamp is in a thousand pieces; I’m lucky my toes are still attached.
    Now I hear Nana. Is she yelling, too?
    William’s door bursts open.
    Steadman is standing against the wall, thumb in his mouth, shaking his head. “A girl,” he says. Then he’s really awake.
“Yabaloo!”
he shouts.
    Fred snaps his jaw shut.
    â€œYes!” Linny stops in her tracks, dancing around, arms out, hitting the wall. “It’s Peaches.”
    â€œMaizie,” Nana breathes, her hair twisted up in rollers, her face full of whitish cream. She smiles at us. “Your father just called with the news.”
    A girl.
    This is the latest in a string