Oh no, did Justin fall off his bike again? I knew I should have bought him those knee and elbow pads. Worried, I jump out of bed, take the stairs two steps at a time, and run outside. Justin is sitting on the grass, his face a scary shade of red, contorted into an expression that can only be described as a hysterical sort of upset. He can barely breathe from all the screaming, and he is clutching clumps of grass and dirt in his fists. His light blue shorts are stained with mud, and his shirt is soaked with sweat. Mom is crouching helplessly beside him, trying to calm him down. “What happened?” I ask. Justin is a generally well-behaved kid and rarely throws tantrums, so this is a cause for alarm. I can barely hear myself above his crying. “We went next door for his playdate with Gio, only to find out they were gone,” Mom explains. “What do you mean, gone? Gone where?” Mom pulls me aside and whispers, “The guard at the gate says Mrs. Diaz drove a loaded van out of the village last night, with Gio in the front seat.
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