Read Online Running Out of Time by Margaret Peterson Haddix - Free Book Online
Authors: Margaret Peterson Haddix
Ads: Link
geography recitation. Katie stood by the fire, because she was always cold, and the light glowed around her blond pigtails. Her little voice was clear and sure.
Now tears threatened in Jessie's eyes, and she forced herself to stop thinking about Katie. She scanned the seats for new absences. They might be important to remember, she told herself sternly.
Sadly, there were plenty to notice. Miranda Simpson was gone now, too, and Harlan Brill, Letitia Wittingham, James Benton, and Malcolm Steele. There were almost as many children missing as present.
Jessie wondered what excuse tourists got if they noticed all the absent pupils. Wait—she didn't have to wonder. Everyone thought she was a tourist. She might as well play along.
"Why are there so many empty seats?" she asked when Mrs. Spurning paused and seemed ready for questions. Jessie
kept her voice innocent, the way she did when she teased Hannah.
"Oh, they're having some germs going around. Colds, nothing serious. I'm sure there are times when Oakdale's a little empty, too," Mrs. Spurning said.
Her tone was so casual that Jessie decided Mrs. Spurning really believed what she said. How was she to know?
"Shh," Mrs. Spurning said. "It's time for the seventh and eighth graders. Would you all know this?"
In unison, Mary, Hannah, Chester, and Richard began reeling off the states and the years they had joined the union. They stumbled a little between Tennessee and Ohio (1796 and 1803), but the students around Jessie looked impressed.
"They don't have as many to memorize," one boy said.
"True. But could you do even half?"
The boy grinned and shook his head. Jessie wasn't quite sure what Mrs. Spurning meant—how many states did the United States have? And why didn't these children know them? But Jessie liked Mrs. Spurning defending her friends.
Mary looked right out at them just then, and Jessie had to fight back the impulse to yell out, "Mary, I'm right here." Mary looked sad and her braids drooped. Jessie would have liked to have told her that Jessie, at least, wasn't sick.
The other children around Jessie were getting restless, as though it were them sitting on the school benches. They whispered and laughed while Mrs. Spurning talked on. If anyone in Clifton's school had done that, Mr. Smythe would have sent them to a corner or, worse, gotten out his whip. But Mrs. Spurning and the chaperon didn't scold anyone. Mrs. Spurning just sighed, looked at a timepiece on her wrist, and said they should go.
This time Jessie would have liked to linger, watching her classmates recite under the stern gazes of Mr. Smythe and the George Washington and Martin Van Buren portraits. Here, finally, she was somewhere Mr. Smythe couldn't yell at her.
But Jessie followed the group out, and then down a different hall. This one had paintings, not those clear pictures-that-weren't-drawings. All the pictures had writing underneath, like, "1848. California Gold Rush," and "1876. Invention of the telephone." They led up to a mirror with the caption, "1996. You visit Clifton Village!"
Jessie realized the pictures were hints about what had happened in the one hundred and fifty years she thought of as the future. It might have been good to study them, but they made no sense to her. What was a telephone? One picture's caption said, "First airplane flight, 1903," and showed a man in a strange contraption apparently soaring through the sky. It had to be a fake. People couldn't fly. Or could they? Jessie's ignorance scared her. What if she couldn't make sense of anything in the outside world?
The pictures made Jessie so nervous, she decided to ignore them. In spite of her fear, she had to leave. The tour had already delayed her, and who could say what even a few hours meant to Katie and the others?
At the end of the hall, Mrs. Spurning said good-bye and left the children to the harried chaperon.
"All right, kids, you can eat your lunches now. If you brought money, you can go to the snack bar.
Now tears threatened in Jessie's eyes, and she forced herself to stop thinking about Katie. She scanned the seats for new absences. They might be important to remember, she told herself sternly.
Sadly, there were plenty to notice. Miranda Simpson was gone now, too, and Harlan Brill, Letitia Wittingham, James Benton, and Malcolm Steele. There were almost as many children missing as present.
Jessie wondered what excuse tourists got if they noticed all the absent pupils. Wait—she didn't have to wonder. Everyone thought she was a tourist. She might as well play along.
"Why are there so many empty seats?" she asked when Mrs. Spurning paused and seemed ready for questions. Jessie
kept her voice innocent, the way she did when she teased Hannah.
"Oh, they're having some germs going around. Colds, nothing serious. I'm sure there are times when Oakdale's a little empty, too," Mrs. Spurning said.
Her tone was so casual that Jessie decided Mrs. Spurning really believed what she said. How was she to know?
"Shh," Mrs. Spurning said. "It's time for the seventh and eighth graders. Would you all know this?"
In unison, Mary, Hannah, Chester, and Richard began reeling off the states and the years they had joined the union. They stumbled a little between Tennessee and Ohio (1796 and 1803), but the students around Jessie looked impressed.
"They don't have as many to memorize," one boy said.
"True. But could you do even half?"
The boy grinned and shook his head. Jessie wasn't quite sure what Mrs. Spurning meant—how many states did the United States have? And why didn't these children know them? But Jessie liked Mrs. Spurning defending her friends.
Mary looked right out at them just then, and Jessie had to fight back the impulse to yell out, "Mary, I'm right here." Mary looked sad and her braids drooped. Jessie would have liked to have told her that Jessie, at least, wasn't sick.
The other children around Jessie were getting restless, as though it were them sitting on the school benches. They whispered and laughed while Mrs. Spurning talked on. If anyone in Clifton's school had done that, Mr. Smythe would have sent them to a corner or, worse, gotten out his whip. But Mrs. Spurning and the chaperon didn't scold anyone. Mrs. Spurning just sighed, looked at a timepiece on her wrist, and said they should go.
This time Jessie would have liked to linger, watching her classmates recite under the stern gazes of Mr. Smythe and the George Washington and Martin Van Buren portraits. Here, finally, she was somewhere Mr. Smythe couldn't yell at her.
But Jessie followed the group out, and then down a different hall. This one had paintings, not those clear pictures-that-weren't-drawings. All the pictures had writing underneath, like, "1848. California Gold Rush," and "1876. Invention of the telephone." They led up to a mirror with the caption, "1996. You visit Clifton Village!"
Jessie realized the pictures were hints about what had happened in the one hundred and fifty years she thought of as the future. It might have been good to study them, but they made no sense to her. What was a telephone? One picture's caption said, "First airplane flight, 1903," and showed a man in a strange contraption apparently soaring through the sky. It had to be a fake. People couldn't fly. Or could they? Jessie's ignorance scared her. What if she couldn't make sense of anything in the outside world?
The pictures made Jessie so nervous, she decided to ignore them. In spite of her fear, she had to leave. The tour had already delayed her, and who could say what even a few hours meant to Katie and the others?
At the end of the hall, Mrs. Spurning said good-bye and left the children to the harried chaperon.
"All right, kids, you can eat your lunches now. If you brought money, you can go to the snack bar.
Similar Books
