But maybe, just maybe, I passed this one.

*  *  *

Our backpacks are waiting for us in the elevator. And so is Carlos’s wheelchair.

“Did we travel back in time?” Carlos asks as he marches in place, enjoying the last bit of wheelchair-free time. “Is that why I can walk? Is that why we all look so young?”

I take a look at my short arms and small feet. “I guess that’s what’s happening. I never know with this token. I wonder exactly how far back we went?”

Zoe is fishing in her backpack for something. She pulls out some small rumpled papers. “Here, this will tell us. The date is on our tickets.” We crowd around to take a closer look. “See, today’s date, October 26th, is stamped on the ticket. But the year is exactly three years ago!”

Scratchy starts counting on his fingers. “Arcade, if the security lady was right about seeing Loopy three years ago—”

Zoe interrupts. “And if we were just at the Statue of Liberty three years ago—”

I conclude, “Then we lost Loopy six years ago?”

Zoe smiles. “And we know we lost him in one of two places on Picture Post . . .”

I catch my breath. “And it couldn’t have been at the school, when Wiley was in third grade, because the math doesn’t work out.”

“So we had to have lost him when Wiley was riding his bike! On that street where the kids were making fun of him. When he broke Reagan’s window!” Zoe grabs me by the shoulders. “And that makes sense, because that would have made Wiley . . .”

“A first grader! You guys, we’ve got to get to school and find out where Reagan Cooper lived in first grade!”

Chapter 31
Cheater, Cheater

“I HOPE YOU ARE ALL RESTED AND READY TO BE TESTED! HA! WE’RE GETTING IT OVER WITH, FIRST THING!” Mr. Dooley grinned as he passed out the math tests. This time Amber Lin passed out the scan sheets.

She placed a scan sheet on my desk. “Good luck, Arcade. This was a hard chapter.”

“You’re telling me.” I glanced over at Wiley Overton just as he reached into his huge brown backpack and pulled out a paper, which he slipped under his test.

There’s space on the test to show our work. No one needs that much scratch paper.

Yet, everyone in the room seemed to have it. All except Scratchy, Amber, Bailey, Carlos, . . . and me.

I pulled a number two pencil out of my backpack and checked to make sure the point was sharp. When I looked up, the door to our classroom was flung open. In walked our principal, Mr. Francis, with Reagan Cooper. She had her arms crossed, and she was smirking at . . .

Wiley Overton.

“HELLO, MR. FRANCIS.”

“Hello, Mr. Dooley. I’m sorry to interrupt. Can I speak to you for one moment, please?”