3 Chapter 3

When I get off my bike, the first thing I notice is that the sleek white car parked in every driveway in the city is not in the Freeman driveway. It's just getting stranger and stranger. I can't really just knock on the door and expect them to let me in, so I scan the area for anything that could help me. I search for a rope, a ladder, anything, until my eyes land on the garage.

Before I know what I'm doing, I'm climbing up the Freeman garage. I guess PE really did come in handy. Once I'm close to the top, I throw myself up in the air, praying to land on the garage roof unharmed. Besides a skinned knee, my prayers are answered. Peeking into the house windows, I see bedrooms, almost identical to mine and my parents'. No one in sight. Since everyone is supposed to be asleep by now because of the city rules, they must be out of town. I hesitate for a second, then jam my foot into the window and hear the sound of shattering glass. I cautiously climb inside, watching my step. That's when I hear the footsteps.

Mr. and Mrs. Freeman walk into the bedroom, looking exhausted. "Quinn?" Mrs. Freeman asks. "Is everything alright? What are you doing here? It's several hours past curfew."

"Exactly. Why aren't you asleep?" I shoot back, maybe a little rudely.

Mr. Freeman opens his mouth, probably to say something rude back, but Mrs. Freeman stops him, saying, "I have insomnia. My husband was just downstairs keeping me company. Now, Quinn, what do you need?"

"Umm... Thomas... we're working on the history project together, and... I needed some help with it. So I figured I'd come here."

"So you broke our window?" Mr. Freeman asks. "I'll have you know that our son is-"

Mrs. Freeman cut him off, "We have no son. It's just us."

They're hiding something. Should I tell them about the sign? "I saw the missing poster. Your son's picture is on it, so is his name."

They look like a pair of deer in headlights, then just look confused. "But... we never put that sign up," Mrs. Freeman worries.

"Our son is missing," Mr. Freeman cuts in. "But that's none of your business. You need to mind yourself, young lady, and leave this house at once. You're going to get into big trouble one day and seriously regret all of your meddling." I'm kind of taken aback; this isn't the Mr. Freeman that's always smiling and happy, the one who keeps a jar of candy on his desk at the bank. This is a completely different person.

I back away nervously when Mrs. Freeman clamps a hand on my shoulder. "Just... be careful, Quinn. You can never be too careful," she says softly, smiling a little and leaving.