Hunter Moran Hangs Out by Patricia Reilly Giff Page B

ladder comes with me, and Zack lands on my head.
    Never mind that my brain is scrambled. We untangle ourselves and go after the kidnapper, kicking the rope ladder away.
    Too bad we’ve forgotten sneakers. A thousand stones with sharp edges are hanging around. We dance down the alley on tiptoes and zigzag across Pop’s lawn again. We’ll have to deal with that later. A hyena memorial, or a grand WELCOME HOME, K.G . sign.
    But right now, we’re saving lives. Our family is depending on us.
    Ahead of us, the kidnapper sprints across the road, passing the streetlight. I know who this is; I’m sure of it. If only I could figure it out.
    And what about that bag that seems to have a life of its own?
    â€œWait up!” I yell.
    He doesn’t wait; of course he doesn’t.
    We hobble over the curb, but here comes a delivery truck with a huge picture of bread on one side. Too bad the side’s a little dented. The bread looks squashed.
    We have to wait until it lumbers past. And even losing those seconds makes us lose the guy.
    Which way has he gone? Into the woods? Down to the town round? Maybe he’s racing to catch the midnight train to the city.
    We look back and forth, toward the library, then the used-to-be-empty house, and the dark and creepy Werewolf Woods.
    The guy has disappeared.
    There’s nothing more we can do tonight. We head for home.



Chapter 16
    It’s morning. My head hurts, and the soles of my feet are torn up, but Mom and Pop are home with the new baby. We gallop down the stairs to see her.
    The baby’s face is a little red, a little squashed, and she looks like William, poor kid. She howls like Fred.
    Mom sinks down with her on the big chair in the living room. Pop leans over them. He doesn’t seem to realize that the baby isn’t going to win any beauty contests. He looks thrilled. Good. It will keep his mind off the chewed-up lawn.
    I reach out and the baby curls her fingers around mine. She belongs to us. I’m really glad she’s here. I’m glad Mom’s home, too.
    Nana holds on to Mary, who’s jammed half the couch pillow in her mouth. “Do you have a name for her?” Nana asks Mom, and crosses her fingers.
    â€œPeaches,” Linny whispers.
    â€œJoey,” Steadman says.
    â€œLeonardo.” William stands two inches away from the baby. “She looks like me.”
    Nana’s eyes widen.
    â€œShe certainly does not,” Linny says.
    Zack and I cross our fingers. “What was your grandmother’s name?” I ask Mom, knowing very well what it was.
    Nana and Mom say it at the same time. “Kathleen Grace.”
    We nod.
    They smile. “That’s a beautiful name.”
    â€œKathleen Grace,” Nana breathes. “My mother’s name. How perfect is that!”
    â€œGreat idea,” Pop says.
    Linny’s lower lip is out a mile. “I’m still calling her Peaches.”
    â€œI’m calling her Joey,” Steadman says.
    â€œWe could even call her K.G.” Zack and I give each other a high five.
Killer Godzilla
.
    The baby opens one eye and squints at me. It’s almost as if she knows Zack and I have railroaded the family into her name, but she doesn’t mind.
    â€œWait until Fred sees her,” Steadman says. “He’s going to go bananas.”
    â€œWhere’s Fred, anyway?” I ask.
    Steadman looks around.
“Komazahere!”
he yells. He’sso loud, the baby stops crying and blinks. Mary knocks over a vase on the table and begins to chew on a daisy.
    Fred doesn’t
komazahere;
he doesn’t even bark.
    The doorbell rings. Becca is here to see the baby. She looks as if she’s jumped off a ten-story building into a pile of cement.
    â€œWhat happened?” Nana asked.
    â€œGymnastics,” Becca says absently. She stares at the baby. “She seems a little squashed.”
    â€œShe does not,” we all say together.
    â€œNicely