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Esther’s younger brother by two years, and Sidney, the youngest at just over three.
    “Masked Man!” Sidney shouted, and Esther sighed. She never should have called Mr. Beake that. Now Sidney would shout “Masked Man” for days until another phrase caught his attention. It would be majorly embarrassing if Byron Beake ever heard it. Of course, “Byron Beake” might set Siddy off as well. Sidney loved sounds, although at more than three years old, he didn’t talk correctly. Mom and Dad had been taking him to a lot of doctors the last few months. Esther had noted more than one set of looks traded back and forth between them when Siddy shouted the same thing endlessly. Never in a whisper. Ever.
    “Dad! We need to help the owls. We found them.” Maybe if she raised her voice like Sidney, they would listen to her.
    “Esther!” Her mother’s voice cut sharply into Esther’s volume.
    Her face flushing, she shot a glance at her father and muttered, “Sorry for yelling, Dad.”
    He winked at her.
    “Why do you call him Masked Man?” Toby, who always finished first, was done. He reached for the last spoonful of chicken, rice, and chicken soup. His mom slapped his hand away.
    “Not until your father’s done.”
    Always that. It didn’t matter how hungry they were, Mom never let them have seconds until Dad had what he wanted. Usually there wasn’t enough to go around a full second time. Toby and Esther ate a lot of bread with peanut butter and honey right after dinner.
    “We never even got to ask him how he was going to help them.” Important questions like, “What animals have you helped before?” Mr. Beake had simply told them to never come back and left the room. Miss Beake had sighed and, looking like a sad turkey buzzard wearing a poncho, herded the girls back into the Bug and driven them to Uncle Dave’s. There, phone calls with parents followed, and the S.A.V.E. Squad girls found themselves each back at home with no sleepover and lots of questions from parents. “He sure was grouchy.”
    “Masked Man!” Sidney shouted, attempting to stand in his booster seat set in the dining room chair.
    “Down boy,” Esther’s dad said, patting the seat. “Cheeks in the seat, please.”
    “Cheeks in the seat!” Sidney bellowed.
    Esther’s mom sighed and picked at her dinner.
    “Does it look like a robber mask?” Toby persisted.
    “No.” She frowned, trying to describe it. “It was clear and, like, squished right against his face.” Now that she thought about it—now that she wasn’t sopping wet and her teeth weren’t chattering—parts of his scalp held only wispy hairs. No wonder he’d looked like a monster when he looked in the window. It had been the mask she’d seen and not him pressing his face against the window.
He wasn’t trying to scare us
.
    Esther’s mom nodded. “A burn mask.” She looked at her husband. “I’ve seen people wearing those when we do hospital visits.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I love those visits.”
    “Jessica.” Dad’s voice was gentle.
    What was
with
everyone tonight? She and the girls had nearly been killed by the storm, kidnapped, and had their owls stolen. Nobody seemed to care. Now, if it had been
Sidney
in trouble…
Trouble
reminded her that she hadn’t told the Squad the Melissa news.
    Toby and Esther fell quiet. Although Toby could be a spectacular pain sometimes, Esther knew he was a softie about people being hurt.
    “Cheeks in the seat!” Sidney shouted.
    Esther sighed. She bet the S.A.V.E. Squad girls never had meals like the Martins.

Chapter 7

    No More Rescues?
    O n Monday, the first day of Spring Break, Nadine, the Squad’s friend and children’s librarian, swiveled in her big leather chair to face the four girls who sprawled behind the oversized wooden desk. It was a Squad thing to do, Esther thought, rolling over onto her stomach and dropping her head onto her two fists. Meet with Nadine at the library. Solve a mystery. Get ideas. It