Found (The Missing, Book 1)

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How could so many people just lose a plane? Angela thought. The whole situation was beginning to seem strange to her, otherworldly. But maybe that was just a function of being new to the job, of having spent so much time concentrating on the computer and being yelled at by Monique. Maybe airports lost and found planes all the time, and that was just one of those things nobody had mentioned in the Sky Trails orientation.

He must be on the wrong frequency. She decided not to mention this.

The Missing, Found: Book One - A Book And A Hug

It's not my responsibility either! She went back to the jetway door by gate 2B. Your ticket to the world! Angela stepped into the jetway.

Found (The Missing: Book 1) by Margaret Peterson Haddix

I'll just go down far enough to see if the jet door is open, she told herself. It may be a violation of protocol, but Monique won't notice, not when she's busy yelling at everyone else in the airport At the bend in the ramp, Angela looked around the corner. She had a limited view, but caught a quick glimpse of a flight attendants' little galley, with neatly stowed drink carts. Obviously, the jet door was standing wide open.

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She started to turn around, already beginning to debate with herself about whether she should report this information to Monique. A whimper? A cry? Angela couldn't exactly identify the sound, but it was enough to pull her on down the jetway. She'd learned CPR in the orientation session. She knew basic first aid. She knew where every emergency phone in the airport was located.

She started walking faster, then running. Was that a private charter company maybe? And then, while she was staring at it, the words suddenly changed into the familiar wing-in-the-clouds symbol of Sky Trails. Angela blinked. That couldn't have happened, she told herself. It was just an optical illusion, just because I was running, just because I'm worried about whoever made that cry or whimper Angela stepped onto the plane. She turned her head first to the left, looking into the cockpit. Its door also stood open, but the small space was empty, the instruments dark.

Or, at the very least, passengers crowding the aisle, clutching laptops and stuffed animals brought from faraway grandparents' homes, overtired toddlers crying, fragile old women calling out to taller men, "Could you pull my luggage down from the overhead for me? It's that red suitcase over there Angela could see all the way to the back of the plane, and not a single person stood in her view, not a single voice answered her. Only then did Angela drop her gaze to the passenger seats.

They stretched back twelve rows, with two seats per row on the left side of the aisle and one each on the right. She stepped forward, peering at all of them. Thirty-six seats on this plane, and every single one of them was full. Each seat contained a baby. Jonah waited to answer until he'd darted his hand in and stolen the basketball away.

But the angle was wrong, and the ball bounced off the hoop. You or her? Or both? But sometimes other people got weird about it. Chip had one eyebrow raised, like he was still processing the information. This gave Jonah a chance to grab the ball again. Jonah almost dropped the ball. It was kind of a new thing for Chip to come over and play basketball. Carefully, Jonah began bouncing the ball again. My aunt and uncle had to go to Beijing to adopt her.

Such a miracle! Jonah could just picture her standing in the kitchen at age five or six, wispy blond pigtails sticking out on both sides of her head, a scowl on her face, complaining, "Weren't you lucky to get me, too? Aren't I a miracle?

But we had nine months to know you were coming. But they told that story way too often about how excited they'd been, getting that call out of the blue, getting Jonah. Also, if he was listing grievances, he often wished that they'd had the sense not to name him after a guy who got swallowed up by a whale. But that was kind of a minor thing. Now he aimed carefully and sent the ball whooshing through the net. Chip flopped down onto the grass beside the driveway.


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That's, like, what everyone wants! The basketball players get all the chicks! After a moment, Chip started laughing too. It was like being a little kid again, rolling around in the grass laughing, not caring at all about who might see you. Jonah stopped laughing and sat up. He whacked Chip on the arm. He and Chip weren't really good friends yet, but Chip having a crush on Katherine could make everything very weird. Chip lay back in the grass, staring up at the back of the basketball hoop. But even if I make it in seventh and eighth grades, then there's high school to deal with.

And then there's college, and being a grown-up It's all pretty scary, don't you think? If you're going to get all worried about being a grown-up, you might as well figure out what's going to happen when you're ninety years old and you die," Jonah said. Personally, Jonah didn't like to plan anything. Sometimes, at the breakfast table, his mom would ask the whole family what they wanted for dinner. Even that was way too much planning for Jonah. Chip opened his mouth to answer, then shut it abruptly and stared hard at the front door of Jonah's house.

The door was opening slowly.

Then Katherine stuck her head out. Maybe when he and Chip were concentrating on shooting hoops? He hoped it wasn't when they were rolling around in the grass laughing and making fools of themselves. But he obediently jumped up and went over to the mailbox, pulling out a small stack of letters and ads. He carried the mail up to Katherine.

When he thought about the name Katherine, he still pictured her as she'd been a few years ago, with pudgy cheeks and those goofy-looking pigtails. Now that she was in sixth grade, she'd She'd slimmed down and shot up and started worrying about clothes. Her hair had gotten thicker and turned more of a golden color, and she spent a lot of time in her room with the door shut, straightening her hair or curling it or something. Right now she was even wearing makeup: a tiny smear of brown over her eyes, black on her eyelashes, a smudge of red on her cheeks.

Weird, weird, weird. It did indeed say Jonah Skidmore on the address label, but it wasn't the type of mail he usually got. Usually if he got mail, it was just postcards or brochures, reminding him about school events or basketball leagues or Boy Scout camp-outs. This envelope looked very formal and official, like an important notice. He flipped the envelope over and ripped open the flap. He pulled out one thin sheet of paper.

Found by Margaret Peterson Haddix -- Trailer

The letter fluttered slowly down toward the threshold of the door, but Jonah had already read every single word on the page. Readers will be hard-pressed to wait for the next installment. Readers will surely return for future installments Science fiction and adventure fans will find much to enjoy in this flashy, suspensful volume. The author grabs the readers' attention from the first scene This book's exciting premise and cliff-hanger ending will leave readers on the edge of their seats and begging for more.


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