Ginnie Quinn heard a cry. A cry of fright and pain; the kind of cry that makes you rush to wherever it's coming from. And in Ginnie's case it was coming from her brother and friend's shared bedroom. It was the middle of the night, and fourteen-year-old Ginnie had just drifted off into Dreamland. Her best friend Owen Sonny might be having a nightmare again. The previous year, Owen's parents had sadly died in a plane crash, and he was staying with the Quinns until further notice. Last year at boarding school, Ginnie found out that her friend Kenneth Lawrael 

was actually her brother. Ginnie slid into her slippers and padded into the boys room. Flicking the light switch on, Ginnie saw someone who was NOT  supposed to be in the room: Chloe Gomez, daughter of criminal mastermind Alchys Gomez. Chloe was pulling Kenneth by the wrists, and Owen was tied up against the door. "CHLOE!" Ginnie yelled. Ginnie untied the ropes holding Owen to the door. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING??" Before the red-haired maniac could answer, Ginnie lunged at Kenneth and tried to pull him away, but 

Chloe's grip was like iron.

"Yes, we looked absolutely EVERYWHERE, officer." Mrs. Quinn's voice on the phone sounded nervous. "He answers to Kenneth, fourteen years old, he has dark hair and eyes, about 5'3, YES, everywhere..." Owen and Ginnie looked at each other nervously. Nobody felt like eating the cold, syrup soaked pancakes. "NO. Don't you dare accuse me of that!" Mrs. Quinn was angry. Beside Ginnie, Owen nearly choked on a small bite of pancake. Ginnie looked up. "I know the Tysons. WE WOULD NEVER DO THAT TO OUR SON!" Beep. Beeeeepppp.

Ginnie and Owen were in Ginnie's room. FOR A LONG TIME, as Mrs. Quinn had said. Ginnie had NO idea who the Tysons were; only that her mom had been mistaken for Mrs. Tyson. But they must be really bad people, Ginnie thought.

Because Mom YELLED at a POLICE OFFICER.

Ginnie thought of Kenneth. All the times at boarding school, the times they played, fought, and laughed. Now Ginnie didn't know when she'd see Kenneth again. Her parents had dismissed the whole Chloe thing, saying it was childish nonsense and Ginnie needed to be serious. With those thoughts, Ginnie felt tears

start to build up in her eyes: Her brother was missing, she KNEW who'd taken him, no one believed her, and Mom and Dad were mistaken for some criminals. Ginnie rested her head on her arms, tears fighting their way down her pale cheeks. Owen came and sat beside her. "I understand, Ginnie." Owen said it quietly; cautiously. Ginnie looked at him sadly. "I know," she said. "I'm so sorry, Owen. Your situation is so much worse than mine, and here I am making such a big deal." Ginnie couldn't even imagine how it must feel to lose your parents. 

"It's the same thing, Ginnie." Both knew it in their hearts that Owen's words were true.

"Mom. Please believe me! I wouldn't lie about this. Owen and I SAW it! Chloe took Kenneth in the middle of the night!" "Stop with this nonsense, Genevieve! Stop with asking me to believe such lies." "They're NOT lies!" Ginnie was desperate. "Yes. It's just not logical," Mr Quinn backed up his wife. "Things don't always have to be logical to be true." And that was the end of the conversation.

Owen and Ginnie decided that they'd better take matters into their own hands if they were ever going to get Kenneth back. 

"Dear Lake," Ginnie typed into Gmail. Lake was her friend from boarding school and had helped a lot in the whole the-staff-set-the-building-on-fire-and-tried-to-kill-them situation. "We have some really bad news. Remember the Gomezes, Alchys and Abbadon? Well, Alchys's DAUGHTER came here in the middle of the night and took Kenneth. My parents don't believe me, and me and Owen don't know what to do. We need your help.

-Ginnie & Owen 

Then Ginnie typed a similar message to another friend Will Sanchex. While waiting for the reply, Owen decided it was time to bring up something Ginnie would not have expected of him. 

Owen had an idea. Three years ago, a man named Leigh Parkston had taken Owen and Ginnie to a cabin to stay safe when the Gomez twins were after them; he claimed he was the founder of the ITR, or the International Track of Relocation. However, the man had actually been a criminal named Keith Parker, who was on a team with the Gomezes. But Owen knew there was an actual Leigh Parkston, as well as an actual ITR. So Owen wanted to contact them and see if they could help. "Uh, Ginnie," Owen said. "Remember Leigh-er, Keith Parker?"

Ginnie nodded. "The guy pretending to be the ITR founder." "Yeah," Owen said. "Well, there really is a Leigh Parkston, and the ITR is real too. So I thought, you know, maybe if we contacted them they could help us get Kenneth back from Chloe Gomez." Ginnie looked at Owen. "Owen! That's a GREAT idea! I don't know why I didn't think of that!" Ginnie grabbed her computer and typed "What is the ITR's main email" into the search bar. There weren't a lot of results, since the ITR was supposed to be a secret organization. But Ginnie found one website.

"It says here the email is leighparkinson/itr/rescue@gmail.com," Owen pointed. "But isn't it Parkston, not Parkinson?  "Maybe Keith thought if we looked up the wrong name we couldn't contact him or whatever," Ginnie suggested. So she opened up a new email and typed the address into the top. "Dear Mr. Parkinson, my name is Ginnie Quinn, and I am fourteen years old. My friends and I need some help. A girl named Chloe Gomez, daughter of Alchys Gomez, has kidnapped my brother, Kenichi Quinn. He answers to Kenneth, and my parents are in 

denial that this has happened so they don't know I'm talking to you. I know of the ITR because Keith Parker pretended to be YOU to get us in trouble. We live at 48009 Lybrooke Lane. Thank you so much!

Sincerely,

Ginnie Quinn." Ginnie's finger hovered over the send button. "Is that good?" she asked Owen. Owen nodded. Ginnie still hesitated. "I don't know. What if-" Owen had reached over Ginnie's lap and hit send. Well, no going back now. 

Will Sanchex still hadn't replied, but Lake had told her mom she had been invited to a sleepover at a friend from school's house. Which wasn't exactly a lie, because Lake was going to sleep in Ginnie's room. Every day Ginnie checked her inbox for an email from Mr. Parkinson, but he wasn't replying. Ginnie hoped he would, or else they were kinda toast.

Ginnie couldn't sleep. Her long, thick black braids swung across her flannel pajamas as she tossed and turned. Ginnie finally drifted off, but not into peaceful dreams. Rather, she drifted off into a nightmare.

Ginnie was running. Rough hands pushed her down, and her leg exploded with pain. She gasped, shuddered, and cried, and someone walked into her room calling her name. 

Ginnie awoke. It had not been a dream. She really WAS lying on the hard wood floor next to her loft bed, braids coming loose, her lower leg was twisted away from her knee and thigh, and someone was trying to help her up. 

It was dark, and Owen couldn't see. Ginnie was badly hurt, and he couldn't see her. There had been a loud commotion, but Owen had assumed it was just his dream, but he had been mistaken. Owen's shaking hand fumbled for the light switch. Click. Owen could now see Ginnie's face bright and clear. It was twisted with pain. Both pairs of eyes squinted against the light. "Owen?" Ginnie asked. "We have to go, Ginnie," Owen said. "Come on." BANG! A woman with white blond hair and black eyes came bursting into the room. The lady from

Ginnie's dream: Mrs. Tyson. "YOU KIDS! YOU'RE COMING WITH US!"  she yelled. Ginnie was becoming drowsy. Owen pulled her arm around his shoulders to help her get away. "Oh no we are NOT," he said. Lynn Tyson lunged at them, nearly grabbing Ginnie's leg again. Owen jerked them both out of her way. "MR. QUINN!" Owen hollered. "HELP!" "NO! IT'S YOUR BLASTED FAMILY'S FAULT MY HUSBAND'S WILL IS GONE!" Lynn shrieked. Ginnie came back to her senses just as Mr. Quinn came dashing into the room, followed by his wife. Half-conscious or not, Ginnie wasn't about to let some stranger

insult her family. "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" Ginnie's voice was weak. "No. You kids  stay out of this. You have some visitors in the front yard. Owen, help Ginnie please." Ginnie and Owen hobbled to the front yard. A rather skinny man stood there bravely. He had rusty red hair that contrasted nicely with his ocean-blue eyes. Next to him stood a tall, tan, blond girl who looked concerned: Mr. Parkinson and Lake. "Mr. Parkinson?" Ginnie said. Mr. Parkinson nodded. "May I ask--how did you know where Lake lives?" Owen said. "She's my niece,"

Mr. Parkinson said shortly. Ginnie was fully awake now, but still leaning on Owen for support. They all walked to Mr. Parkinson's car. "You two can take the backseat. Ginnie and Owen crawled in easier than either of them had expected, what with Ginnie's leg. Lake buckled into the passenger's seat, and then they started driving. "So, where are we going?" Ginnie asked, positioning her leg so it was comfortable. "Well, first we're going to our regional ITR supply shed," Mr. Parkinson said. "For some crutches and a cast for that leg of yours, and for some clothes for all of 

you. Then we're going to headquarters." "And...where's headquarters?" Owen asked. "A hidden hotel in Michigan," Lake said like she was excited. "So we have a 3-hour plane ride plus a drive to the airport AND the supply shed." Ginnie was usually an optimist herself, put now she was feeling unusually pessimistic. Ginnie turned to Owen, but realized he had fallen asleep against the car window. Suddenly, Ginnie's eyelids felt like giant boulders stronger than 100 men. Ginnie let those boulders and steady humming of the car lull her to sleep.