Revealed by Margaret Peterson Haddix Page B

in,” Angela suggested.
    JB rubbed his forehead again and typed in some kind of code.
    The airplane took up a larger and larger portion of the monitor’s screen. And then something odd happened.Jonah’s head began spinning. The lights of the time hollow seemed to blink out, and Jonah felt like he was falling. Down, down, down . . .
    He felt like he was going to fall into the ocean below the small silver airplane, which was crazy, because he was still in the time hollow—wasn’t he?
    Everything spun around him, and Jonah felt the same sped-up sensation he always felt traveling through time, right before landing. Jonah broke through a cloud, and something silver glinted beside him in the moonlight. He threw his arms out without even thinking about it, and his fingers brushed something metal. He grabbed on tightly.
    â€œDo I see spirits? I’m hallucinating. . . . Stay awake!” a voice said, just above Jonah’s head.
    Jonah looked up, toward his own hands, which were clutched onto the rim of a window. An airplane window.
    And through that window Charles Lindbergh was looking down toward Jonah.

FOURTEEN
    I’m back in Charles Lindbergh’s time , Jonah thought dazedly. I’m with him, flying across the Atlantic.
    â€œWhat? What’s happening?” Lindbergh said, turning frantically away from the window.
    The action sent up a burst of light. Jonah could no longer see Lindbergh himself, but a glowing, ghostlike version of him who still had his head hung out the window, staring down toward Jonah and the water below.
    His tracer , Jonah thought, his heart sinking. I’ve just changed time.
    Jonah hated tracers, the ghostly representations of what would have happened in original time if no time travelers had intervened. Only time travelers could see them, and they were almost always a sign of trouble. On Jonah’s previous trips through time they had caused him no end of anguish and worry.
    Although he’d also discovered during his time in the 1600s that not seeing tracers when you were supposed to could be a very bad sign too.
    â€œAre we slowing down?” Lindbergh was muttering above him. “Could there be more drag all of a sudden? And more on the right than the left . . .”
    Um, yeah , Jonah thought. Because I’m hanging on to the right-side window.
    The soft glow of Lindbergh’s tracer gave a little more light to see by than just the moon and the stars. Jonah turned his head right and left, hoping to see someplace he could move to that wouldn’t create worse problems.
    Like maybe a seat in first class? he told himself.
    He was being ridiculous. Lindbergh’s plane was tiny, almost toylike. The window Jonah was clinging to didn’t even have glass in it. He couldn’t actually see into the cockpit, but he could tell there would only be room in there for one seat: Lindbergh’s. It was like Lindbergh was flying over the entire Atlantic Ocean in a slightly modified tin can.
    No , Jonah thought, suddenly figuring out what he had his face pressed against on the side of the plane. Most of this plane isn’t even metal. It’s cloth.
    â€œPsst, Jonah,” someone hissed at him. “Do you think you could climb over to the other side?”
    Jonah looked down toward the voice and almost had a heart attack.
    There, clinging to a support under the wing, were kid JB and kid Angela.
    All three of them had come back to Lindbergh’s time. All three of them were on the right side of the plane.
    â€œNot . . . sure . . . how . . . long . . . can hold . . . on,” Angela whispered.
    Jonah realized he couldn’t actually feel his fingers. If it was just the numbness of timesickness, that would wear off in a moment or two. But with his face turned away from the plane, now he could tell exactly how biting and cold the wind was. His face was going numb now