Stacey stayed for dinner. No one in my family thought that was unusual. Nor that Stacey continued to stay afterward for a gabfest in my bedroom. We do both of those things pretty often.

At first we just talked about school and boys and stuff. For nearly half an hour we talked about this one boy, Trevor Sandbourne, whom I used to like a lot. And all the while, I could almost see Stacey wondering what I really wanted to talk about, because she knew it wasn’t Trevor.

So at last I drew in a deep breath and said, “Well, I read Find a Stranger, Say Goodbye. The whole thing.”

“You did?” asked Stacey, being careful not to push.

I nodded. “From beginning to end. And after I read it, I had some more ideas for my search. You know how, in the book, Natalie Armstrong is privately adopted? I mean, through a lawyer, not through an agency like Emily Michelle was?”

“Yeah,” replied Stacey.

“Well, maybe I was privately adopted, too. I might even have been born right here in Stoneybrook to a couple — say, a really young couple — who knew they weren’t ready to raise a child. So they planned, before I was born, to have me adopted by a family who wanted a baby. Maybe Mom and Dad found out they couldn’t have any more children after they had Janine or something.”

“Like my parents,” said Stacey.

“Right,” I agreed. “So you know what I did today?”

“What?” Stacey leaned forward eagerly.

“I went to the public library and looked up old birth announcements.”

I told Stacey everything that had happened and what I’d learned.

“It sounds kind of farfetched,” Stacey said, when I’d finished my story. She was frowning slightly. “I mean, what if you were adopted through an agency? Or what if you were adopted privately, but not here in Stoneybrook? You could have been born anywhere.”

“I know,” I answered. “But it proves one thing. I was adopted. If I’d been born to Mom and Dad, the announcement would have been in the paper. That’s just the way it goes. All births are listed. And mine wasn’t.”

“True,” said Stace slowly.

“And there’s a chance I was born in Stoneybrook. It certainly would have been easy to adopt me that way. Then my parents wouldn’t have had to travel here with a newborn baby.”

“That’s true, too,” said Stacey.

“So you know what?” I went on. “I think I’m going to look up those three couples. That would be a starting point, anyway. I just don’t know how to do it.”

“The parents’ addresses were in the paper, weren’t they?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “But that was thirteen years ago.”

“So? Your family has lived in this house for more than thirteen years. And the Pikes have lived in theirs for a long time, too. And up until recently, Kristy and Mary Anne lived in the houses they’d been born in.”

“Right….”

“So get out the Stoneybrook phone directory,” said Stacey excitedly.

“I’m nervous!” I cried, but I found the book anyway. I was as excited as Stacey was.

I closed my door, and Stacey and I huddled together on the bed.

I looked up the Ferguisons first. Mr. and Mrs. James Ferguison of Rosedale Road were listed — right there on the page in front of us.

“I don’t believe it!” I cried. I jotted down their phone number.

Next I looked up the Selsams. They were not listed.

“Oh,” I said dispiritedly.

“Don’t give up yet,” said Stacey brightly. “You’ve still got their address. Maybe they just have an unlisted phone number.”

“Oh, right!” I said, feeling hopeful again.

Then, although it seemed completely unnecessary, I looked up the Hos. Of course, they were not listed.

“Well, you’ve got two leads,” said Stacey. “You can phone the Ferguisons, and you can go to the Selsams’. You can ride your bike to their house. It isn’t too far away.”

“True.” I reached for the phone. Then I looked at my clock. “Darn,” I said. “It’s after ten. I better wait till tomorrow to call the Ferguisons.”

“And I better go home!” exclaimed Stacey, jumping up.

“My mom will drive you,” I told her. “Come on.”

So I saw Stacey to the door, and then I went back to my room.

Tomorrow I would contact the Ferguisons and the Selsams. I was so nervous I knew I would hardly be able to sleep that night.

*  *  *

I was right. I barely slept a wink Friday night. When I woke up on Saturday, my eyes felt as if they were made of sandpaper — all scratchy. But I was ready for action, and I was wound up as tightly as a spring.

I couldn’t believe my luck. By ten-thirty that morning, Dad had gone downtown to run errands, and both Mom and Janine had left for the library — Mom to work on a fund-raising project, Janine to research something scientific and complicated.

As soon as they had left, I made a dash for the phone in my room. I wouldn’t even have to close my door or keep my voice down. Once again, luck was on my side.

Still, the phone call was not going to be easy to make. I had a story all dreamed up — I’d thought of a good one while I’d been lying awake the night before — but I had butterflies in my stomach like you wouldn’t believe. This was worse than stage fright. My whole past was at stake here.

But putting off the call wouldn’t make it any easier, so I picked up the phone and dialed. A man answered.

“Hello, Ferguison residence,” he said. I assumed it was Mr. Ferguison.

“Um, hello,” I said. “My name is Claudia. I live here in Stoneybrook. And, um, I’m really sorry to bother you, but in school we’re supposed to be doing research papers — on names. I was given the name Ferguison because of its unusual spelling. I decided to do something with a family tree.” (I knew this sounded vague, but I was hoping the man would humor me in order to get off the phone.)

“Yes?” said Mr. Ferguison.

“Well, I was wondering if you have any kids. I mean, so I can include them in the tree. I just need to know their names and their birth dates. Do you have kids?”

“Yes, I do,” replied Mr. Ferguison. “Kara, Marcie, and Joseph.” He told me when they’d been born. Kara had been born in the week I’d been born.

I pretended that this was a great coincidence. “Hey!” I exclaimed. “What do you know? I’m thirteen, just like Kara. I wonder why I don’t know her. We must be in the same grade.” (I wanted to be sure of Kara Ferguison’s existence.)

“Do you go to Stoneybrook Day School?” asked Kara’s father.

“Oh, no,” I replied. “I go to the middle school. I guess that explains things. Well, listen. Thank you for your help. I really appreciate it. I need a good grade on this project.”

Mr. Ferguison laughed. Then we said goodbye and hung up.

One down, two to go. It was time to head for the Selsams’. Again, thanks to my sleepless night, I had a story ready as to why I was appearing on their doorstep.

When I reached their house, I realized I wasn’t quite so nervous as when I’d called Love Bundles or the Ferguisons’. Maybe I was getting used to being an undercover detective.

I rang the doorbell boldly.

A woman answered it. She was young and pretty. A little boy peered timidly around her.

I pretended to look confused. “Mrs. Selsam?” I said.

“No,” replied the woman, looking confused herself.

“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t think so. I’m sorry to bother you. See, I used to live in Stoneybrook, but my family moved away. Now we’re back for a visit. I’m looking for my best friend from kindergarten. We haven’t been in touch. Her name is Daphne Selsam. I know she used to live in this house.”

The woman smiled. “The Selsams were the previous owners,” she said. “They live in Lawrenceville now. That’s not too far away. Maybe someone could drive you over there. In fact, I think I’ve even got the Selsams’ phone number. Can you hold on a minute?”

Of course I could!

The woman left, returned with a slip of paper, and handed it to me.

“Thanks!” I cried.

I rode home and called the Selsams without a single butterfly. This time I gave the woman who answered my call the same story I’d given Mr. Ferguison — about a school paper.

And I found out that there was indeed a Daphne Selsam who was thirteen.

That left just one baby unaccounted for: the baby born to the Hos from Cuchara, Wyoming — if that was their real name, and if they really were from Wyoming.

But how would I track them down? I was fresh out of ideas. My mind had been working overtime. Still, I planned to look for them. I thought I might wait awhile, though. The search was getting sort of intense.

I was glad when Stacey called. “How’s it going?” she asked.

“I’ve been playing detective all morning,” I told her. “Can I come over? I’ll fill you in.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Stacey replied. “But do you mind a lazy afternoon? I’m feeling kind of tired today. So Mom said I have to stay on bed.”

“On bed?” I repeated.

“Yeah. That means I’m allowed to be dressed, and I can get up when I really need to, but mostly I’m supposed to rest.”

“Well, I’ll come entertain you,” I said. “I’ll tell you what happened, and I’ll bring over some art supplies. We can make jewelry. That won’t be too taxing.”

“Great!”

I rode over to Stacey’s and spent the afternoon with her. It was nice to take a break from my search.