“No, no, who am I really?” Katherine interrupted. “Like, next year when we can try out for things, do I want to be a cheerleader or a basketball player? Do I want people to think, ‘Katherine Skidmore, airhead, but what a hottie,’ or, ‘Katherine Skidmore, what a jock!’?”
Jonah was torn. He wanted to tease, Regardless, it’ll be, ‘airhead, definitely not a hottie.’ But he also kind of wanted to offer some profound big-brotherly advice along the lines of, Katherine, you idiot, it’s what you are that matters, not what people think you are. He was saved from making a decision because someone knocked on his door just then. Both he and Katherine jumped guiltily.
“Is this a private party, or are adults allowed too?” Mom called from the hallway.
Katherine shot Jonah a glance that said, See, I told you they’re acting mental.
Jonah frowned back at her and called out, “Come in” to his mother.
Mom pushed open the door, but still stood there a little hesitantly.
“That Cincinnati chili took so long to make—chopping all those onions!—I totally forgot…you got some mail today, Jonah,” she said, holding out a white envelope.
Jonah felt a nervous twitch in his stomach.
Mom walked across the room and laid the envelope on his desk, beside his social studies book. Once again, there was no return address. It was just a plain ordinary unmarked letter addressed to Jonah.
“If that’s an invitation to a birthday party or some other event you want to go to, let me know so I can put it on the calendar,” Mom said, still in that unnatural, careful voice she’d used at dinner.
“Okay. I will,” Jonah said.
He made no move to open the letter. He didn’t even touch it. He bent his head over his social studies book like the most dedicated student in the world— Look, Mom! I’m not in any danger of flunking out!—but he could feel Mom and Katherine both staring at him. He sighed.
“I’ll look at it later, okay? I’ve really got to finish this social studies. We’ve got a test tomorrow, and I haven’t even done the whole study sheet yet,” Jonah hinted.
“Oh! All right. Come on, Katherine, we’re being kicked out,” Mom said. “Jonah, let me know if you want any help reviewing later.”
Jonah waited until they were both gone, and the door was firmly latched. He picked up the envelope and went over to sit on the floor with his back pressed against the door, so he’d have some warning if anyone tried to come in. Carefully, he eased his finger under the flap of the envelope and gently lifted it.
He could tell even before he pulled the letter out that most of it was blank. He fumbled unfolding it, one edge of the paper getting stuck against the other side. And then it was open. He flattened the paper against the floor, so he could see every word all at once.
There were seven this time:
BEWARE! THEY’RE COMING BACK TO GET YOU.
SEVEN
“You didn’t tell anyone?” Chip asked.
“I just told you, didn’t I?” Jonah said.
“No, I mean, like, a grown-up. Your parents.”
Jonah shrugged miserably. They were at the bus stop, but standing apart from the other kids, out of the glow of the streetlight. It was the next morning, and he’d just quietly filled Chip in on the contents of his latest letter.
“What am I supposed to say?” Jonah asked, twisting his face into an imitation of a terrified little kid and making his voice come out high and squeaky: “Oooh, Mommy, Daddy, that piece of paper scared me.” He dropped his voice back to its normal register. “Katherine thinks they’re freaking out anyhow, just ‘cause I asked a few questions last night.”
Chip glanced away, and Jonah followed his gaze. In the darkness, the other kids were mostly miscellaneous blobs, but Jonah could pick out Katherine’s bright orange jacket in the middle of a huge cluster of kids. It sounded like she was competing with her friends Emma and Rachel to see who could squeal the loudest.
“Maybe Katherine’s the one who sent that letter,” Chip said. “I didn’t get one. Maybe she’s just playing a trick on you—remember, she wanted to rewrite that letter on Saturday, to make it a better prank.”
Jonah thought about how serious Katherine had looked the night before, commanding, “Don’t do this,” how desperately she seemed to want him and his parents to just act normal.
“No,” he said curtly. “It’s not Katherine.”
“Well, then…what did the letter say again, exactly?” Chip asked.
“ Beware! They’re coming back to get you,” Jonah recited tonelessly. It took no effort to remember; he’d stared at the words for so long the night before that it seemed like they were imprinted on his eyeballs.
“’Coming back to get you,’ huh? Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with your, uh, adoption,” Chip said. Jonah noticed Chip was still having trouble making himself say the word. “Maybe it’s a revenge thing. Have you made anybody mad lately?”
You, Jonah thought, but didn’t say. He couldn’t blame Chip any more than he blamed Katherine.
“I’m sure it’s just another prank,” Jonah said, but he wasn’t sure. If anything, he was almost sure that it wasn’t.
The school bus appeared out of the early-morning darkness just then, and he and Chip crammed themselves into the screaming, squealing line of kids jabbering about how Spencer Patton was going to sneak his iPod into math class today and how Kelly Jefferson had just broken up with Jordan Cowan and, “Did you hear—six kids got sick from eating the cafeteria pizza yesterday! Do you think they’ll finally fire the lunch ladies?” Jonah hoped that no one could tell that he felt like he was walking around in a bubble. Even as he climbed up the bus steps, walked down the crowded aisle, and collapsed into the first vacant seat, he felt like he was in a completely different dimension from kids who cared about iPods and math class and breakups and cafeteria pizza.