The Spanish Kidnapping Disaster

The Spanish Kidnapping Disaster

by Mary Downing Hahn
The Spanish Kidnapping Disaster

The Spanish Kidnapping Disaster

by Mary Downing Hahn

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Overview

Forced to accompany their parents on their honeymoon in Spain, new stepsisters Amy and Felix find the animosity between them escalating, especially when Felix's boasting about family wealth to Grace, the mysterious world traveler, results in the kidnapping of the girls and their younger brother.


Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780547562957
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Publication date: 03/18/1991
Sold by: HARPERCOLLINS
Format: eBook
Pages: 147
Sales rank: 930,875
Lexile: 760L (what's this?)
File size: 5 MB
Age Range: 9 - 12 Years

About the Author

Mary Downing Hahn’s many acclaimed novels include such beloved ghost stories as Wait Till Helen Comes, Deep and Dark and Dangerous, and Took. A former librarian, she has received more than fifty child-voted state awards for her work. She lives in Columbia, Maryland, with a cat named Nixi.

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

Although we didn't know it then, our troubles began when Amy lost her barrette. It was one of a pair decorated with cloisonné butterflies, and, if we'd been able to see into the future, neither one of us would have turned back to look for it.

We were in Toledo, Spain, at the time, but, because of the situation, we weren't having much fun. You see, my mother had just married Amy's father, a union we had both opposed, and now, due to circumstances beyond everybody's control, Amy, her little brother, Phillip, and I were tagging along on the honeymoon. No one, including Mom and Don, was enjoying our first experience as a family.

Don't ask me, why I agreed to help Amy search the gutters of Toledo for something less than two inches long. I certainly didn't care whether her hair fell in her eyes or not. Combed or uncombed, washed or unwashed, it always looked better than mine. What's more, I didn't like Amy, and she didn't like me. I think I went with her because I was tired of walking behind Mom, ignored and forgotten while she held hands with Don. I was definitely fed up with Phillip, one of the most irritating ten-year-olds I'd ever met.

Anyway, it was late afternoon, and Amy and I had been dragging along behind the others, too hot and tired to walk faster or even quarrel. Several feet ahead, Phillip was practicing his Spanish on every innocent bystander he saw. Mom was reading loudly from her guidebook, unaware that nobody was listening. And Don was photographing alleys, stairways, people, cats, dogs, pigeons—ordinary things tourists I never noticed but which he feltrepresented the real Spain. No one was paying any attention to Amy or me. I suppose our parents thought two twelve-year-old girls could take care of themselves.

Then Amy noticed her barrette was gone, and, while Phillip, Mom, and Don strolled on, we walked off in the opposite direction to look for it. While Amy peered into every, crack and crevice big enough to hide the barrette, I paused to take a picture of some brightly colored laundry hanging on a sunny balcony. Suddenly, a crowd of tourists in black business suits filled the street and began photograaphing the laundry too. There were so many of them Amy and I couldn't see past them or even wiggle around them. By the time they'd put their cameras away and moved on to the next attraction, we didn't see Mom, Don, or Phillip anywhere.

The barrette forgotten, we looked at each other.

"Where did they go?" Amy asked.

Hoping to catch up with our parents, we ran to the comer, but all we saw were the backs of the tourists disappearing around a turn in the street.

"Mom said something about the Alcázar," I said. "We'll just ask somebody how to get there. It's such a big old building, I bet everyone knows where it is."

"But we're in Spain, Amy reminded me. "Suppose we can't find anyone who speaks English?"

"No problem," I said with more confidence than I felt. "I have a great sense of direction."

From the way Amy looked at me, I knew she had no faith in me or my sense of direction. Probably she was remembering the time I'd shown her a shortcut to the mall, and we'd ended up lost in a swamp. She'd ruined her favorite sandals, fallen into a patch of poison ivy, and been bitten by three million mosquitos before we found our way to dry ground. Amy's not the kind of person who forgets a thing-like that, especially if she thinks you did it on purpose.

"Tell the truth for once," she said crossly. "You don't have the slightest idea where the Alcázar is and you know it."

"Don't get mad and blame this on me," I said. "You're the one who lost the barrette. I was just trying to help you find it."

Making an attempt to stay calm, I looked at the silent buildings and the empty streets, but they offered no clues to the Alcázar's whereabouts. It could have been uphill or down, east, west, north, or south. And there was no one to ask. A whitecat regarded me solemnly from a balcony. A dog wandered past, sniffing the curb. A flock of pigeons flew up into the air with a clatter of wings. But not a single person appeared. All the doors were closed, and the red against the hot June sun.

What should we do?" Amyasked, suddenly tearful.

Not wanting to admit I was just as scared as she was, I took a wild guess down the street. "It's that way."

"Are you sure?" Amy asked suspiciously.

Without answering, I walked off as if I knew exactly where I was going, and Amy followed me. After trudging along in silence for about five minutes, we turned a corner and saw a sunlit square. A number of streets curved one of it, but there was not sign of the Alcázar.

"Now what, Miss Know It All? Amy glared at me. Without the barrette, her hair tumbled down over one eye, and she brushed it back from her face impatiently. Half moons darkened the armptis of her blue tee-shirt, and she looked as hot and cross as I felt.

Across the square, awoman sat on the curb adjusting her sandal strap.A shabbybackpack leaned against the wall, behind her. Although she was wearing faded jeans and a tee-shirt, the flower in her long red hair gave her a foreign look.

"Maybe she can help us," I said.

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