Free Took by Mary Downing Hahn Page A

just in case, but there’s something about an empty house. You always know when you’re alone.
    I pictured her taking her time coming home, sulking, mad, hoping I’d worry about her. Little brat. I couldn’t stand my sister anymore. I was sick of her. Sick of her scenes. Sick of the doll. I hoped we’d never find it.
    I smeared a thick layer of peanut butter on a piece of bread, poured myself a glass of cider, and went to my room to play games on my iPad. But for some reason I couldn’t concentrate. The silence of the house pressed against my ears. A clock ticked. The refrigerator turned off and on. A gust of wind rattled the windowpanes. Noises you never heard except when there were no other noises.
    I closed my iPad and went to the window. Where was Erica? I walked down the hall to her room. Maybe she’d been hiding there all the time, playing a trick on me. Yes, that must be it. She’d beaten me home, run upstairs, and hidden. It was just the sort of prank she’d pull.
    Fully expecting to see her sitting on her bed, laughing at me, I flung open the door and flicked on the light. A row of stuffed animals sat on the window seat, staring at me with shiny round eyes.
    I called my sister’s name. I looked under her bed and in the closet, expecting her to jump out and scare me. No Erica.
    As I turned to leave the room, I saw the van’s headlights coming down the driveway. With a half-formed hope that Erica would be with Mom and Dad, I ran down the back stairs to the kitchen and opened the door before Dad had a chance to fumble with his key.
    â€œWell, thanks, buddy.” Dad brushed past me and set a case of wine down on the counter with a thud.
    Mom was right behind him, balancing a stack of carryout cartons from Lucky’s Chinese Restaurant. “No pizza tonight. Moo goo gai pan for you and me and Erica.”
    â€œAnd General Tso’s chicken for me.” Dad turned to the cupboard to get dinner plates. “Go fetch Erica so we can eat before the won ton soup gets cold.”
    â€œWhy are you just standing there?” Mom asked. “What’s wrong? Where’s Erica?”
    â€œShe—” I took a deep breath, then started again. “She’s not, she’s, she’s not—”
    Mom left the kitchen. “Erica,” she called. “Erica!”
    Dad grabbed my shoulders and spun me around to face him. “What’s going on, Daniel? Where’s your sister?”
    â€œShe’s not here, Dad. I don’t know where she is. We had a fight. She wouldn’t come home with me—she, she ran off—”
    â€œShe
ran off
?” Dad stared at me. “Why didn’t you go after her? How could you let her run off?”
    â€œI tried to stop her, Dad, but she was mad just like yesterday, and I—”
    His eyes lit on the jar of peanut butter and the loaf of bread I’d forgotten to put away. “You came home and ate a sandwich? Is that what you did?”
    â€œI thought she’d be here any minute. I never imagined she’d do something like this.”
    Mom reappeared. “She’s not in the house, Ted.”
    Dad grabbed my shoulders again, harder this time. “Where did you last see her?”
    â€œIn the clearing. We were looking for the doll, but she wasn’t there, and Erica wouldn’t come home with me. She got mad. She said it was all my fault, and then she ran away from me, and I got mad at her and came home.”
    Dad swore softly. “Martha, you stay here in case she comes back. Daniel, grab your jacket and a couple of flashlights.”
    I followed Dad out into the cold, dark night. The wind was blowing harder now, and the trees sent wild rocking shadows across the driveway. In the woods, Dad began calling Erica. I joined in.
    Erica, Erica, Erica.
Her name bounced from tree to tree, caught by the wind, tossed into the sky. But she didn’t answer. She didn’t