Read Online Found Things by Marilyn Hilton - Free Book Online Page A

that Daniel Bunch would disappear and then floated the wish down the river.
    â€œFocus, people,” Ms. Zucchero say from her desk, “or we’ll have quiet time.”
    Everyone knew that meant no talking until the bell rang. Usually we listened to Ms. Zucchero when she had quiet time. I wished she had made quiet time before Daniel Bunch trashed my collage last Friday.
    Martin slid his sketch pad across the table and stretched out his arms. “Anyway, he’s at the hospital.”
    Now my sketch pad trembled so bad in my hand that I let go of it, and it clapped to the floor. When I bent to pick it up, I had to swallow hard to keep from gagging.
    â€œHow do you know that ?” Sonya asked, tossing her ponytail. “Did you see him go?”
    When Martin didn’t answer, she asked again, “Did you see him?” This time her voice sounded like it was flapping on a clothesline.
    Fear slapped my chest and dribbled into every cell of my body. I stared at the picture of the brown-haired girl and tried to draw the smooth line down her cheek, but I felt my hand making a long squiggle on the page. If Daniel Bunch got sick before Meadow Lark and I made the wish on Friday afternoon, then we had nothing to do with Daniel’s 104 fever and his being in the hospital. But if he got sick after we made the wish, then it might have been our fault.
    I swallowed again, and without thinking I asked, “When did they take him to the hospital?”
    â€œShe talks,” Kevin whispered.
    Just then Ms. Zucchero shifted in her chair. It was her signal for what was to come. “Okay, people. Quiet time now.”
    Then Sonya say, “The fake-accent girl talks. Why would she care what happened to Daniel?”
    She was a fly in my ear, and I waved her away and asked again. “Does anyone know when they take him?”
    But Sonya just kept talking to the pile. “Maybe she likes him. Or maybe she knows more than she’s telling. You gotta watch out for the quiet ones, because they’re always listening. Maybe if we listen, we’ll find out what she knows. Talk, fake-accent girl.”
    My heart pounded, and I couldn’t catch my breath. “Anyone know?” I asked, looking at Martin.
    â€œQuiet, people,” Ms. Zucchero say to our table.
    When she looked back at her crocheting, Martin whispered, “They took him on Sunday.”
    Sonya must really like Daniel, I thought, because she blushed deeper than that CrimsonCrisp in the middle of the table and say, “No, Martin, you’re a liar.”
    The next thing I remembered was feeling dizzy like when you get to the bottom of a roller coaster, and hearing a knock on the floor—which I later realized was my head—and then Ms. Zucchero looking down at me.
    â€œRiver, can you sit up?” she asked, squeezing my arm. My head was buzzing. “We need to take you to Mrs. Bertetti’s office. Someone bring her some water.”
    Then Ms. Zucchero wheeled her chair over to me and helped me sit in it. I cried a little because she was being so careful with me and because everyone stared and say how pale I looked. Ms. Zucchero couldn’t have wheeled me out fast enough.
    She rolled me down to Mrs. Bertetti, the school nurse. The two of them talked and Mrs. Bertetti told me to lie down on the bed with my knees up.
    â€œI hope you feel better soon,” Ms. Zucchero say before she left to go back to class.
    Mrs. Bertetti took my temperature, which was normal, and then held my wrist with her fingertips while she looked at her watch. Her lips moved as she stared at it.
    Finally she put my hand back down on the bed and asked, “Can your mother drive you home?”
    I shook my head. “She doesn’t drive. She stopped driving . . . a while ago.” Mrs. Bertetti didn’t have to know everything. “But I can walk home.”
    â€œNot after that tumble. What about your father?”
    â€œHe’s in