Off the Wall by P.J. Night Page A

about what to buy.”
    â€œWe all were,” said Megan. “All that time, Daria was in trouble. And we never once thought of helping her.”
    â€œWait—why do you say she was in trouble?” asked Jane.
    Megan looked at her, amazed. “How could she not be in trouble if she’s not with us? She would never leave us on purpose. We’re her friends!”
    â€œI wouldn’t say that,” Jane answered. “I don’t think she likes any of us that much. She’s been pretty awful since the moment we met her.”
    â€œTotally awful,” Lucy agreed. “I’m sure there’s nothing the matter.”
    Megan’s eyes were wide. “But we still have to find her, right?”
    â€œI guess we do,” said Lucy without enthusiasm. “I’d rather just go back to sleep. But it’s probably not a great idea for her to be on her own. Anyway, we’re wandering around the museum because of her. If we get caught or something, she should be with us to get in trouble too.”
    That seemed like confused reasoning to Jane. After all, the real reason they were wandering around the museum was that Lucy hadn’t been able to resist Daria’s dare. But Jane didn’t point that out. Instead she asked, “What time is it?” as the three girls wearily began to climb the stairs to the first floor.
    â€œI’m not sure. Probably about two thirty,” Lucy replied.
    Megan sighed. “This is terrible. I’m supposed to get eight hours of sleep a night.”
    â€œ Everyone’s supposed to get eight hours of sleep a night, not just you,” snapped Lucy.
    â€œBut I always get sick when I get overtired!” Megan said.
    â€œYou’ll survive,” Jane told her. “Now, does anyone have a clue where Daria might’ve gone?”
    â€œMy mom says I always pick the wrong direction,” Lucy answered. “I would probably walk straight ahead now. So if I’m always wrong, straight ahead would be the wrong direction. So let’s go the opposite way.”
    Megan looked confused. “You mean, walk backward?”
    â€œNo, silly. I mean turn around.” Lucy did just that, and so did Jane and Megan. Then Lucy said, “Since the first place I would look now is in the Exhibit of Asian Mammals”—she pointed to their left—“we should probably go into the Portrait Gallery.” That was on their right.
    â€œWhy does a natural history museum have a portrait gallery, do you think?” asked Megan. “Paintings are supposed to be in art museums, aren’t they?”
    â€œThese are all portraits that Mrs. Templeton owned,” Lucy explained. “She wanted them exhibited here, and she was the one in charge, so here they are.”
    â€œAt least portraits won’t be creepy,” said Megan.
    But Jane wasn’t so sure of that once they were inside the first room of paintings. All those shadowy pictures of long-ago people seemed to crowd in on her. She couldn’t escape the weird feeling that the people in the portraits were mad at her for being . . . what? Out in the open?
    Lucy seemed to share Jane’s mood. “See that man in the gold frame?” she said in a low voice. “I think he’s watching me. I know people always say that about portraits, but I swear I just saw his eyes move.”
    â€œI was thinking the same thing about that old lady over there—the one holding the bouquet,” said Megan. “When we first came in, I thought she was smiling. But then she frowned for a second. She really did!”
    For once, Jane didn’t think Megan was imagining things. The room was getting to her, too. It wasn’t only the people in the paintings, either. She was sure she’d been in this room before. It was just a feeling, not a memory—but Jane couldn’t shake it.
    â€œThere’s one good thing about this room,” Jane