Revealed by Margaret Peterson Haddix Page A

have disappeared, Mom and Dad are teenagers and knocked out, JB and Angela are teenagers who are losing their memories—what could go wrong next? Jonah wondered.
    He decided he probably shouldn’t ask that question. He turned to Angela.
    â€œDo you have some secret second identity you’re starting to remember now too?” he asked.
    Angela laughed, and at least that was a reassuring sound.
    â€œI’ve never been anybody but myself,” she said. “And I guess this proves it. I’m not remembering any other childhood but my own. It’s just . . . some of my memories are getting vague and, well, questionable. I think that’d be the word for it. It’s like I’m losing certainty.”
    JB frowned, as if concentrating hard.
    â€œI remember . . . this is why the original time rescuers found they couldn’t go back in time and snatch endangered adults and un-age them back to being adoptable babies,” he said. “The adult brain is too established. Kids’ brains are still malleable and adaptable. Your brain can handle the changes. If someone tried to turn me back into a baby again, my mind would be . . . mush.”
    Jonah cast an anxious glance over his shoulder toward the car where both of his parents sat, totally unaware.
    â€œBut you only went back to thirteen, not all the way to babyhood,” he said pleadingly. “Your mind mostly still works right. When you and Angela and Mom and Dad are turned back into adults again—you’ll be fine then, won’t you?”
    JB shrugged hopelessly.
    â€œIt’s not something that’s been tested,” he said. “There are some experiments you just can’t do.”
    Jonah gulped.
    â€œMaybe we should try to make sure you spend as little time as possible as a thirteen-year-old?” he asked. “Maybe we should . . . fix everything as fast as we can?”
    â€œBe my guest,” JB said, gesturing helplessly at the wall full of monitors, the images of Jonah’s sister and friend vanishing again and again and again.
    Jonah watched Charles Lindbergh grab Katherine for the umpteenth time.
    Whether he’s my biological father or not, that’s not what matters right now , Jonah thought.
    â€œYou said we should be able to watch some of Charles Lindbergh’s life, because he’s connected to someone who’s a missing child in history,” Jonah said to JB. “Right? Maybe we can’t see where Lindbergh took Katherine, but can’t we do what Angela suggested, and try to find him talking to Gary and Hodge beforehand? Making plans to kidnap her?”
    JB gave Jonah another puzzled squint.
    â€œI guess . . . we could try,” he said.
    Jonah pulled out the cell phone again and called up the picture Katherine had taken of Lindbergh.
    â€œHow old do you think he looks here?” Jonah asked. “Let’s check his life right before he’s this age.”
    Angela peered down at the picture.
    â€œLate twenties?” she guessed. “Early thirties? He was twenty-five when he flew to Paris. I do remember that.”
    â€œWe’ll start with that, then, and work forward,” JB said.
    He began typing on the wall keyboard again. Jonah noticed that he stopped every few moments to rub his hand across his forehead. Had JB been doing that all along? Or were his memory problems getting worse?
    Nothing’s supposed to get worse in a time hollow , Jonah reminded himself. Nothing’s supposed to change at all.
    Then he stopped watching JB because Angela gasped beside him.
    â€œThat’s Lindbergh’s plane,” she said in an amazed-sounding voice. “The Spirit of St. Louis. The real thing, not the one from the Jimmy Stewart movie.”
    Jonah looked up at one of the monitors, where a small silver airplane seemed suspended over a vast spread of water. There was no land in sight.
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