“Did you see the giant cat or not, Cal?” he yelled. I was waiting for Cal to point at the shack, ratting us out, and Bones and I would really be hosed, especially without any locks on the doors, but instead Cal just shook his head. What was going on? Why wasn’t he telling his friends where we were? I didn’t get this kid. 

Gordo jabbed Cal in the arm and yelled even louder, “How about the chubby one? Did you see him?” 

Chubby! What?! Gordo was easily thirty pounds heavier than I was. And why was he yelling so loud? 

“Lump,” Bones said thoughtfully behind me. “I think Quiet Cal can’t speak.” 

I twisted around and looked at Bones. But that wouldn’t explain why they were yelling at Cal. Just because he couldn’t speak didn’t mean he couldn’t hear. 

“I think they’re confusing mute and deaf,” Bones said, reading my mind. 

Through the window, I heard Mazz yell, “The chubba! You see him, Cal?” 

I told Bones to get ready to run. Cal might not have seen where Bones had gone, but I knew for sure that he had seen me run into the shack. Cal had his hands in his pockets, sitting on his bike.

He angled his head ever so slightly toward the shack. I tensed, getting ready to run—he was about to give us up; I was sure of it . . . then he just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. 

He hadn’t sold us out. And I had no idea why. 

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