Lost in the Tunnel of Time by Sharon M. Draper

LIKE COOL, SWEET MILK ON A BOWL OF CRUNCHY cereal, the Thursday morning breeze splashed the crisp, dry leaves under Rico’s feet. He liked this time of year. It would soon be time for warm fires in the fireplace and frosty snow on the sidewalk. His mom had made him wear a jacket to school today, and it felt good. As he crossed the street to the school building, he spotted his friend Ziggy and waved.
    Ziggy sat on the front steps of the school, digging wildly in his book bag. He pulled out two broken pencils, a half-eaten apple, a red spiral notebook, a sandwich wrapped in plastic, a doorknob,and a green tennis shoe. “Hey, Rico-mon! Did you do your history homework?”
    Rico chuckled. “Sure, Ziggy. It was easy. Didn’t you do yours?”
    â€œOf course I did it, mon—Ziggy is no fool. But I can’t find it!”
    Ziggy continued to empty the contents of his book bag on the school steps—his math book, seven small smooth rocks, five nickels, and a purple three-ring binder. “It’s gotta be in here somewhere,” he mumbled to himself. His long braided hair, covered with a small, green and yellow knitted cap, hung over his shoulders.
    â€œWhat are the rocks for?” asked Rico.
    â€œI call them the Seven Special Stones of the Sun,” replied Ziggy mysteriously as he held the rocks in his hand for Rico to see.
    â€œWhy do you call them that? What makes them so special?”
    â€œMy grandmother gave them to me, mon. She brought them all the way from Jamaica. She told me they would bring me good luck.”
    â€œThey look like ordinary rocks to me,” Rico said with doubt.
    â€œWell, that just shows how much you know, mon,” Ziggy said as he rolled the stones in his palm. He looked thoughtful, then asked, “Can you keep a secret, Rico?”
    â€œSure,” replied Rico, who never knew what Ziggy would do or say.
    â€œThese stones …” Ziggy paused for a moment. He looked around to make sure no one was listening. His voice dropped to a whisper. “These stones keep away ghosts !”
    â€œGhosts?” Rico laughed nervously. “There are no ghosts around here!”
    â€œSee how well the stones are working, mon?” Ziggy replied with glee. Rico laughed again, shaking his head at his friend. Ziggy plopped the stones back into his book bag.
    Just then a gust of wind blew through the schoolyard and across the steps. The pages of Ziggy’s red notebook fluttered and gently released the one sheet of paper that had been tucked inside. Ziggy’s large,round handwriting boldly filled both sides of the paper.
    Ziggy grabbed it triumphantly. “I found it, mon! Let the bells ring and the school day begin!”
    The early bell seemed to hear him, for the signal to go into the building sounded just as he spoke. Ziggy stuffed the rest of his things back into his bag, tossed it over his shoulder, and called to Rico, who never ceased to be amazed at Ziggy, “Let’s go, mon. We’ll be late!”
    Their school building was very old. It had five floors, with a large marble staircase leading from the front door on the main floor to the upper floors. The long, dark hallways were shiny with wax and worn by footsteps.
    As Rico and Ziggy reached their lockers on the third floor, they saw Rashawn and Jerome sitting on the linoleum waiting for them.
    â€œWhat’s up?” asked Rashawn, yawning. He uncurled his long legs, stood up, and stretched. He had grown taller during the long summer vacation and was proud that his size-ten shoes were the biggest of all his friends’. Lots of people said he looked like a basketball star. He liked that.



“Nothin’ much,” replied Rico. “Ziggy was having a homework attack, but he found it.”
    â€œSo what else is new?” asked Jerome. “Ziggy loses his homework every day.”
    â€œIt’s not always my fault,” replied Ziggy cheerfully.