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  Just like me, Jonah thought.

  “What are they—clones?” he asked sarcastically. “Did you ask to check their DNA?”

  “Jonah, eight of them are girls. Three are Asian. Two are black. They’re not clones.”

  Jonah decided to stop making jokes.

  “I haven’t even told you the weirdest thing,” Chip said. “Everybody lives here in Liston or in Upper Tyson or Clarksville.” Upper Tyson and Clarksville were the two closest suburbs.

  “So?” Jonah challenged. “How’s that weird? Maybe this is just the territory for the FBI office I went to.”

  Chip shook his head.

  “Most of the kids were adopted in other places, like me,” Chip said. “But even the ones who used to live someplace else, they’ve all moved here. All within the past six months. That’s twelve kids moving here, all since June.”

  Jonah had chills suddenly. Then he thought of something.

  “Wait a minute—let me see that list again.”

  Chip pulled the papers back out of his pocket. Jonah yanked it out of his friend’s hands and stabbed a finger at one line of print.

  “See, this person you were asking me about before, that’s an address in Ann Arbor, Michigan,” he said triumphantly. “That’s miles away, a whole different state. Maybe it’s just a coincidence that Katherine only got the complete information on people who live close by. No, wait—here’s somebody in Winnetka, Illinois. So, there are at least two people who live somewhere else—”

  “Jonah, that’sme , in Winnetka,” Chip said. “I’m on the list twice, with my new address and my old one, both, just like I got two copies of each of those weird letters….” His voice faltered. “Oh, I see….”

  “What?” Jonah thought of something new, too. “You think the FBI sent us the letters?”

  “No…I don’t know,” Chip said distractedly. “But this person in Ann Arbor? It’s a girl, and her name’s Daniella McCarthy.”

  The only thing Jonah could see above the address,103 Destin Court, Ann Arbor, Michigan , was a little line, right above thet ofCourt . It might have been the loop of they at the end ofMcCarthy . Or it might have been just a wrinkle in the paper, magnified and darkened by the camera.

  “How do you figure that?” Jonah asked.

  “I bet you anything it’s the same girl as down here, the one at 1873 Robin’s Egg Lane,” Chip said. “And I bet there’s a Robin’s Egg Lane in Liston or Upper Tyson or Clarksville. That’s the pattern on the entire list—old address, new address…. I bet if I call this Ann Arbor number, I’ll get one of those messages, ‘Doo-doo-doo…The number you are calling has been changed. The new number is…’” He’d made his voice robotic, just like a computerized phone message. Now he slipped back into his usual voice. “I’ll prove it.”

  He pulled his cell phone out of his backpack and began dialing.

  “Chip, do that later. The bus is coming,” Jonah said, because he could see the headlights swinging around the corner.

  “I’m just going to get a machine,” Chip said. “Got anything to write with?”

  Jonah fished a pen out of his own backpack. Chip held out his left palm.

  “I’ll repeat the number back to you. You write it on my hand,” Chip said.

  Chip was still talking when the phone clicked—Jonah was close enough to hear—and a decidedly noncomputerized voice said, “Hello?”

  It sounded like a girl.

  “Uh, hello,” Chip said awkwardly. “Uh, Daniella?”

  “Yes?” She sounded impatient.

  “Um…you still live in Ann Arbor?”

  “Where else would I live?”

  “Uh, Liston, Ohio? Or maybe Upper Tyson or Clarksville, but that’s not as likely—are you sure you aren’t moving or planning to move or in the process of—?”

  “No,” the girl said, in a tone that very clearly said,that is such a stupid question.

  “Hey, you two going to school today?” the bus driver yelled.

  Jonah realized that the bus had arrived and almost all the other kids had already climbed on. He jerked on Chip’s arm, pulling him toward the bus.

  “Um, sorry,” Chip was saying into the phone. “I think I have some bad information. You really don’t have another address on a Robin’s Egg Lane in another city?”

  Jonah couldn’t hear what the girl said in reply, because they were stumbling up the steps. But a moment later, as they shoved their way down the aisle, Chip began pleading, “No, wait, don’t hang up—are you adopted?”

  “Great pickup line, dude,” an eighth-grader muttered from his seat.

  Chip lowered the phone from his ear.

  “Let me guess—she hung up?” Jonah asked.

  Chip nodded.

  Both of them plopped into their seat as the bus pulled away from the curb.

  “Wow—you really have a way with girls,” Jonah wisecracked.

  Chip shook his head.

  “I don’t understand. This doesn’t fit the pattern at all. And now she’s all mad at me, just for asking—really, I did a much better job with all the other calls, or I had Katherine make them—”

  “So just have Katherine call this Daniella back tonight and ask things the right way,” Jonah said.

  “You don’t understand,” Chip said. “I want to know everythingnow .”

  Chip slumped in the seat, staring at the cell phone as if it had betrayed him. He looked so miserable that Jonah felt obligated to cheer him up.

  “Hey,” Jonah said, jostling Chip’s arm. “You and Katherine have been hanging out together a lot. Do you still have a crush on her?”

  It was strange, how talking about Chip’s liking Katherine had become thesafe topic.

  “I can’t think about crushes and girls and all that right now,” Chip mumbled. “Not when I don’t even know who I am.”

  “You’re Chip Winston,” Jonah said firmly. He felt like he was replaying the conversation he’d had with Katherine the night he’d gotten the second letter. Except he was taking the Katherine role.

  Chip didn’t answer right away. Jonah wondered if he’d even heard him. Then, so softly that Jonah had to lean in to hear him, Chip whispered, “Can I tell you something? Even before I found out I was adopted, even before I knew Mom and Dad weren’t really my parents—biological parents, I mean—I always felt like there was something wrong with me. Something different. Like I wasn’t who I was supposed to be. Like I never belonged. Not here. Not back in Winnetka. Not anywhere.”

  Jonah leaned away and squinted at Chip in distress. Kids weren’t supposed to say stuff like that to other kids. What if somebody else heard him? Jonah looked around. Marcus Gladstone was drumming his fingers on the seat in front of him. Owen Rogers was doing his math homework, muttering, “Come on, come on, multiply both sides by twelve…carry the four….” Queen Jackson was telling Nila Holcomb, “That boy is just bad news.” Jonah was pretty sure she wasn’t talking about him or Chip.

  Chip hadn’t even looked up. He was still talking, his eyes trained on the seat back in front of him.

  “—And it seems like, this whole adoption thing, maybe that’s my answer. Maybe once I find out everything and get an explanation, then I’llknow —”

  Jonah shoved his shoulder against Chip’s shoulder.

  “Hey,” he interrupted harshly. “Stop that.” He tried to remember the argument Katherine had used on him. “Weren’t you paying attention in that guidance assembly the other day? All teenagers wonder who they are. It’s part of growing up.”

  Jonah couldn’t believe he’d been forced to use such a goopy line. Now he was as embarrassed for himself as he was for Chip. He hoped no one else had heardhim .

  “I think this is different,” Chip said quietly. He paused, as if to give Jonah a chance to say, “I know what you mean.” Or to admit, “You’re totally right. I’ve felt the same way. And not just since I turned thirteen.” When Jonah didn’t say anything, Chip went on. “And don’t you see? This isbig . All thes
e kids, and the FBI, and—andghosts …”

  “But it doesn’t make any sense,” Jonah said.

  “I was working on a theory,” Chip said. He held up his cell phone. “Until our friend Daniella messed everything up.”

  “So what was the theory?”

  Before Chip could answer, the phone in his hand began to ring, blaring a Fall Out Boy tune. Quickly, Chip flipped it open and looked at the number.

  “Seven-three-four area code…is that—” He raised the phone to his ear. “Daniella?”

  “Who are you?” Daniella was evidently shouting, because this time Jonah didn’t even have to lean close to hear every word. “How did you know?”

  Chip moved the phone away from his head, gave it a baffled look, then placed it back against his ear.

  “I—what are you talking about?” he asked.

  “Weare moving!” Daniella screamed. Her voice blared from the phone. “This is so awful! My life is over!”

  “I thought you said you weren’t,” Chip said cautiously.

  “I didn’t know!” From the way her voice sounded, Jonah suspected that Daniella was about to cry. “My dad made this big ‘family announcement’ at breakfast—he’s taking a job transfer, and that little ‘getaway’ my parents were on was actually a house-hunting trip! They’re going to make an offer on a house today. What are you—the realtor’s kid?”

  “Er, no. Actually—”

  Daniella didn’t seem to hear him.

  “That wasn’t funny at all, if that’s your idea of a prank,” she fumed. “Or, were you trying to talk me into thinking I was going to like the house? I won’t. My parents say it’s ‘wonderful.’” She madewonderful sound like something evil. “I bet it’s a pit!”

  “Hold on,” Jonah said, struggling to catch up with all of Daniella’s fury-by-phone. “Did she say her parents are making an offer on the housetoday ? They don’t own it already?”

  Chip squinted in puzzlement.

  “You’re talking about the house on Robin’s Egg Lane, right?” Chip said into the phone. He struggled to pull out the survivors list from his pocket, unfold it, and find the right number. “Um—1873 Robin’s Egg Lane? In”—he bit his lip, obviously making a guess—“Liston, Ohio?”

  “Yes, yes, that’s what you asked me about. Mom and Dad saw it yesterday and just ‘fell in love with it.’” She twisted the words bitterly, so it sounded like they’d fallen into the deep fiery pits of Hades.

  Jonah leaned in close and spoke into the phone: “You say they just saw the house yesterday? For the very first time?”

  “Yes…,” Daniella moaned. “Yesterday, for the first time. And, just like that, they’re going to try to buy it today. I think they’re having a midlife crisis. They’re insane. Why do they have to ruin my life?” Now Jonah was certain: she was crying. Her words kept dissolving into wails. “I hate Ohio! I’m going to be miserable there! I—I—” She sniffled. “I can’t talk anymore. I’m too upset.”

  The next thing Jonah heard was a dial tone.

  Chip slowly lowered the phone from his ear.

  “She’ll call back,” he said confidently. “She didn’t give me a chance to answer any of her questions.”

  “But she answered ours,” Jonah said.

  “Not that she let us ask much!” Chip snorted. “I still need to know if she’s adopted, and if she got the same kind of letters we got, and if she knows what we all ‘survived,’ and…” Chip seemed to be working from some sort of mental checklist.

  “Chip, don’t you get it? Those questions don’t matter right now.” Jonah eased the survivors list out of Chip’s hand and held it up. “I got this list three days ago, with Daniella McCarthy’s address on Robin’s Egg Lane. Her parents didn’t even see the house until yesterday. They haven’t made an offer on it yet, but they’re going to today. So”—he shook the list in Chip’s face—“how did the FBI know the future?”

  “They couldn’t have,” Chip said.

  Seconds passed while both of them stared hard at the list, the three-day-old list from the FBI that contained information no one should have been able to know until today. Jonah knew that they were almost at school, that the bus around them was filled with kids laughing and flirting and teasing and griping and even—here and there—singing. But Jonah couldn’t focus on anything except the survivors list. That and Chip’s voice, saying slowly, “Unless…”

  “Unless what?” Jonah asked.

  “Unless they’re the ones making her move.”

  SIXTEEN

  “That’s ridiculous,” Jonah said. “Impossible.”

  “Why?” Chip asked.

  Jonah barely stopped himself from giving an answer that would have sounded like his dad: “Because the government is set up to serve the people. Not to ruin kids’ lives by making them move.” Instead he mumbled, “Why would they care where Daniella McCarthy lives? How could it matter to them? And to direct her family to that exact house—”

  “Maybe one of Daniella’s parents is a top-secret scientist,” Chip said, “and some enemy is about to drop a bomb on their house, and so the FBI is moving them for their own safety….”

  Jonah frowned at Chip and rolled his eyes.

  “It’s Daniella’s name on the list,” Jonah said. “Not her parents’.”

  “Maybe that’s just some sort of code,” Chip argued.

  “What about all the other thirteen-year-olds on the list? Are all of our names some kind of code?” Jonah asked. “Myparents aren’t top-secret scientists, I can tell you that. And nobody’s ever tried to make us move.” Still, Jonah felt a knot of anxiety in his stomach at the thought of moving. He’d lived his whole life in the same house—well, his whole life since he’d been adopted. “My mom would never agree to leave our house, not even if the president himself begged her to,” he said. “She’s spent too much time babying that rhododendron bush in our backyard. And her roses and her grapevines and everything else…”

  Jonah had never cared that much about the rhododendron bush; he’d always thought Mom made way too much of a fuss about “those gorgeous blooms” and “Do you think they’re a little smaller than usual? Should I test the soil acidity again?” But now he pictured Mom clutching the trunk of the bush while some official-looking government types tried to pull her away: them arguing, “But you have to go!” while she countered, “I’ll never leave! Never!”

  The image was strangely comforting.

  “Hey!”

  Jonah looked up to see the bus driver in the aisle in front of them. He was glowering.

  “Let me explain something to you two,” he growled. “I pull up to your bus stop, you get on the bus. I pull up to your school, you get off. It’s not that complicated.”

  Jonah realized that they were at school now; he and Chip were the only kids still on the bus.

  “Oh, sorry!” he said, jumping up, grabbing his backpack.

  “Maybe you want to go to the elementary school instead?” the bus driver asked. He seemed amused now. “That’s my next run. This is the day when all the little kids stay on the bus extra-long, to learn bus safety. Maybe you need that, just to learn to get on and off?”

  “No, no, that’s okay,” Chip mumbled, scrambling up behind Jonah.

  The bus driver stepped back between two of the seats to let them past him in the aisle. He was laughing at them.

  “What a jerk,” Jonah muttered, as soon as they were out on the sidewalk. Other kids from other buses streamed past them, into the school. He tried to blend into the crowd. At least no one else had been on the bus to hear the driver making fun of them.

  Chip grabbed Jonah’s arm.

  “After school I’m going to call Daniella back,” Chip said. “Maybe she’ll have calmed down by then. And I want to call back the other kids on the list, to ask why they moved. You’ll help now, won’t you? Remember what you promised me? ‘I’ll do everything I can to help you.’”

  Chip’s imitation of Jonah’s voice was frightenin
gly accurate.

  I didn’t know what I was promising, Jonah wanted to argue.That was last week. I thought I’d just have to quote from What to Tell Your Adopted and Foster Children.Not solve mysteries. Not see ghosts. Not call strangers. Not figure out the FBI. Not…worry about my own past.

  Chip’s blue eyes were pleading and desperate.

  “Katherine’s all right and everything, but she’s too…cheerful about all of this,” Chip said. “She’s thinks it’s fun.”

  What’s wrong with fun?Jonah wanted to ask. But he knew exactly what Chip meant.

  “All right,” Jonah said reluctantly. “After school.”

  The day dragged. Jonah couldn’t concentrate on any of his classes. More than once, his teachers noticed and said, “Jonah? Are you with us?” or “Jonah? Didn’t you hear me the firstfive times I asked everyone to open their books?”

  On the bus ride home, Jonah made sure he and Chip didn’t get too distracted. They were the first ones off the bus when it reached their stop.

  Katherine bounced up eagerly behind them.

  “How many names do you want to call today?” she asked. “I don’t have gymnastics tonight, and I did all my homework in study center, so I am ready to start dialing!”

  Chip and Jonah exchanged glances.

  “Well, see, I’ve got to get the mail first,” Chip said weakly. “And then…”

  “No problem. I can wait,” Katherine said, grinning.

  She followed the boys to the Winstons’ brick mailbox. Chip took his time about reaching in, drawing out the stacks of letters and magazines and junk mail. Jonah felt like telling him,Look, if you think Katherine is going to get bored and leave, forget it. Once she’s into something, she never gives up.

  Chip was so completely into his act, trying to get rid of Katherine, that he just stood there, staring at the stack of letters.

  Maybe it wasn’t an act.

  “Chip?” Jonah asked cautiously. “Is something wrong?”

  Jonah remembered that lists and ghosts and the FBI weren’t all they had to worry about. He remembered that letters had been the first signs of strangeness.