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Back The Year the Maps Changed Save as PDF
Chapters (75)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. Map
  6. Prologue
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. Acknowledgments
  74. About the Author
  75. About the Publisher

“Wouldn’t matter if they did,” Jed said, nodding as another patrol car pulled up. “They wouldn’t get very far.”

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57

The Brown Jacket

We were in class when we heard the sirens again. This time they were loud, screaming past PNP’s front gates.

Mr. Khouri told us to keep our heads down. The school day was nearly over and we were in the middle of a spelling test.

“Don’t worry about what’s going on out there. Think about what’s happening up here.” And then he tapped his head and asked us to spell the word impressive.

But the heat had turned my memory to mush, and the sound of that siren had scratched at my brain until I couldn’t concentrate.

The bell rang, so we put our pencils down and handed our tests in to Mr. Khouri. While we packed up our chairs, everyone started doing that thing where they talk about every little part of the test until I could feel myself break out in a sweat as I tried to remember where exactly I’d put an a and an o in the middle of memorable.

“Stop worrying,” Jed said, tugging once on my backpack strap and then again until I smiled.

Aidan and Sam were walking and talking behind us when the four of us stepped out into the beating sun and the pickup rush. The bike shed was jam-packed, and we had to hang back until other kids had gotten their bikes out first. Car horns were honking, kids were yelling, the school crossing guard was blowing his whistle, and underneath it all were the sounds of the bay across the street, where pine trees lined the Esplanade footpath.

“Are you coming back to my house?” Aidan was asking Jed.

The whistle blew again and another car honked twice to get some kid’s attention. I lifted a hand to block out the sun and half listened while Sam asked about the homework Mr. Khouri had given the fifth graders.

Up ahead, something got caught in my vision. I kept my eyes trained across the way, at someone standing on the footpath in the shade of a tall pine tree, the blue of Port Phillip Bay behind her and kids walking past in groups or on their own, not even looking at her as they passed.

“You guys,” I said, but so quietly they must not have heard me.

Maybe she wanted me to see, but I couldn’t be sure.

“Hey, you guys. . . .” I said again, a little louder this time.

It was odd. Odd that she was wearing that big old brown jacket on a warm day like today, and she seemed to be hugging herself to the wide shadow cast by the pine. . . .

“Guys!” I yelled. Jed, Aidan, and Sam—even a few of the last kids left in the shed—turned to look at me and frowned.