“Brendan and Antonio,” Katherine said. “That’s their names. Well, their twenty-first-century names. They have Indian names too.”
“I thought they weren’t Indians,” Jonah muttered. He peered over at the two boys again. If they were going to fit into Jonah’s notion of Indians, one’s skin seemed too dark; the other’s, too light. And in both cases, Jonah thought their hair was wrong for Native Americans.
On the other hand, they both acted as if they felt completely comfortable walking around in nothing but loincloths.
“Neither of them was born an Indian,” Katherine said. “But an Indian tribe adopted them both.” She grinned. “Kind of ironic, huh?”
Jonah let his eyelids slip shut again. Maybe he wasn’t really ready to wake up. Not if it involved thinking about Indians who weren’t really Indians, and adoptions and . . . how had those boys just appeared out of nowhere, anyhow?
Katherine jostled his shoulder.
“Stop that!” she said. “You need to stay awake so you can eat.”
“Eat?” Jonah mumbled, opening his eyes again. “Eat what?”
“We were fishing in the canoe—well, mostly it was Brendan and Antonio,” Katherine said. “They were really good at it when they were with their tracers, you know, because their tracers knew what to do. Remember that paddle that looks like a rake?”
“It’s a fishing rod?” Jonah asked.
“More like a fish net,” Katherine said. “But close enough.”
Jonah would have preferred, say, a cheeseburger and fries, but the fish really did smell good. And it wasn’t some suspicious pellet that had come from Second.
“Come on,” Katherine said, tugging on Jonah’s arm.
Jonah let her lead him toward the fire. He was surprised at how weak he still felt. Surely that wasn’t just from canoeing and treading water and swimming.
I was tired before I fell out of the boat, he thought. But I didn’t feel this bad until that guy dropped on me . . . jumped up at me . . . tackled me. . . .
Jonah’s brain still kept dodging away from thinking about that moment. He stumbled past the two boys, who were taking fish from a sort of improvised wooden rack by the fire. One by one, they placed the cooked fish on huge leaves—standins for plates, Jonah guessed.
“Uh, hey,” Jonah mumbled, because it seemed kind of rude not to say anything.
Jonah thought he saw one of the boys separate from his tracer long enough to nod stiffly at him, but he couldn’t be sure.
“That’s Brendan,” Katherine said. “He’s really nice. But he and Antonio are trying to stay with their tracers as much as they can, until they’re sure the tracers are just going to sit still for a while.”
Something about the way she put that bothered Jonah, but his brain wasn’t working well enough yet for him to figure out why.
The second boy—Antonio?—said something to Brendan just then, but Jonah didn’t really catch it. He couldn’t even tell if it was English or another language.
“They’re speaking an Algonquian dialect,” Katherine said.
“How’d you know that?” Jonah asked. Was this something else he should have learned in fifth-grade Social Studies?
“They told me,” Katherine said. “We had a long time together out in that canoe.”
Jonah noticed for the first time that Katherine’s face was sunburned and—he brought his hand to his face—his was too. He looked back over his shoulder and saw how low the sun was in the sky.
“So we were in that canoe all day?” he asked. “I was asleep all day?”
“Pretty much,” Katherine said. “Now do you see why we were worried?’
Jonah shrugged this off. He didn’t want to seem too wimpy in front of two boys he didn’t even know. But how could he have slept all day?
Antonio picked that moment to stand up and stretch, revealing perfect six-pack abs. This made Jonah feel even wimpier, since every muscle in his body felt rubbery and sore and pathetic. But Jonah wasn’t going to let the other boy see how intimidated he was. He gave the boy a hard look.
Then he did a double take.
“Wait a minute!” Jonah said. “I know you! Weren’t you wearing a sweatshirt with a skull on it? Back in the cave?”
In the time cave, the day Jonah had learned that he was one of the missing children from history, there’d been a small subgroup of kids wearing skull sweatshirts. They’d gone out of their way to be rude to Jonah and Katherine; if he hadn’t had so much else to worry about, Jonah would have been afraid of them.
Now the boy standing before Jonah seemed to quiver, his twenty-first-century self separating slightly from his fake-Indian self. Jonah could see just the hint of the Sarcasm T-shirt at the boy’s neckline, just the edge of a tracer at the back of the boy’s head.
“Yeah—so?” Antonio growled. “What’s it to you?”
Jonah recoiled. In his experience back home, that was the kind of thing bullies said right before they started looking around for someone to punch. Jonah had almost always taken comments like that as a cue to slip away, out of range of anyone’s fists.
But that was before he’d survived the Middle Ages, before he’d defied time experts to rescue his friends, before he’d rescued a drowning man, before he’d stood on messed-up Roanoke Island yelling at Second.
Jonah stepped closer to Antonio.
“Then you’re a famous missing kid from history, like me and Andrea,” Jonah said. “Who are you, really? Why did JB send you back that way, like . . . right on top of us?” Jonah was proud he could force those words out, describing what had happened. “Didn’t JB know we were there? Does he know now? What are you guys supposed to be doing here?” Jonah’s brain still wasn’t exactly functioning normally, but he found he could come up with plenty of questions. A brilliant one occurred to him, one that made him almost stammer with excitement. “D-do you have an Elucidator with you? Can you let us talk to JB?”
Katherine put a warning hand on Jonah’s arm.
“Jonah, it wasn’t JB who sent Brendan and Antonio back in time,” she said.