kid’s life was a whole different story. James had been missing for six hours, and they’d found nothing. Not a piece of cloth- ing. Not a lock of hair or even a juice box. Nothing.
A tear rolled down the side of her face, but she didn’t wipe it away. She knew if she did, more would follow. She’d start bawling right in front of Miller Walker, Tim Carroll, Carl Fritz, and the whole dang PTA. So she asked Tim for the keys to his Dodge and curled up in a ball in his backseat.
As soon as she got there, her mind started spinning. There was Ronnie, and her mom, and Noreen, and now
James Walker, whom she’d never given a chance or gone out of her way to help with his long division. The kid might have turned out okay despite the boy he was now. He might have cured cancer or invented painless braces. Only now they might never find out.
She was thinking about this, and the itch in her stom- ach kept growing until she could feel it in her heart and kidneys and bladder. An itching, like everything inside her was red and inflamed. And then, suddenly, a squawk burst out of her mouth. A braying explosion that sounded like crying without tears. Its vibrations rippled through her chest. It lasted about five seconds, and then stopped just as suddenly as it had started. She ran her hands along the tops of her breasts and pressed, as if searching for a hidden animal in there. It was unnerving that she’d been able to produce such a noise. Like something in her lungs had woken up, and decided to bark.
Out the window, a haze settled over the woods. It looked like a dirty fog. She watched it drift down the hill and through the vents of the car. It stank like skunk. Particulate sulfur pollution and ash from the old mill. Another reason she should never have planned a class trip here. Right now every one of those searchers had to be thinking: That Lois Larkin, what an imbecile!
Suddenly, from outside the car, she heard a child’s voice; high-pitched but not girlish. It was muffled, and she couldn’t tell what it said. James? she wondered. Was he out there? Had they found him?
She got out of the car. The base of the woods was full of parked SUVs, Audis, Saabs, and Hondas. She could hear the searchers calling to one another, but it didn’t sound like they’d found him. The voice was coming from the woods, too. It was muffled, but it definitely belonged to a child. A boy. She sighed with relief. Thank God. Oh, thank the dear, sweet Lord.
She jogged into the woods, and now she could hear what the boy said. “Lois,” he called. James, she thought with relief so sweet that her saliva could have been Necco wafers: Only a terror like James would use her first name.
She jogged through the search party’s net. Her brow was sweating, and she was beginning to pant. “That you, Miss Larkin?” a volunteer fireman asked. He shone a white sphere of light across her face. She shielded her eyes with her hands.
“Yeah, ith me.”
“Okay. Take it easy. We’ll find him.” “Sure.”
Deeper in the woods, the voice called again: “Lois!” The sound reverberated through the air. An idea oc- curred to her, but she didn’t want to think about it. A part of the voice came from the woods, but if she was going to be honest, really honest, it came from a closer place, too. It was soft and barely discernible. A whis- per. It came from inside her own head.
Did she want to find this kid so badly she was invent- ing him? Probably. Still, he might be out there. He might be alive, and if she found him, she could fix this mess she’d made. She lifted her shirt and began to scratch her belly: The itch had spread from her organs all the way out to her skin.
She reached the river where the searchers had turned around, and crossed it. Beyond the rocks was a clear- ing. The voice wasn’t calling her anymore, but she could feel it. She could feel it inside her. Was she going crazy? Maybe. It didn’t matter. One way or another, she was going to find
A tear rolled down the side of her face, but she didn’t wipe it away. She knew if she did, more would follow. She’d start bawling right in front of Miller Walker, Tim Carroll, Carl Fritz, and the whole dang PTA. So she asked Tim for the keys to his Dodge and curled up in a ball in his backseat.
As soon as she got there, her mind started spinning. There was Ronnie, and her mom, and Noreen, and now
James Walker, whom she’d never given a chance or gone out of her way to help with his long division. The kid might have turned out okay despite the boy he was now. He might have cured cancer or invented painless braces. Only now they might never find out.
She was thinking about this, and the itch in her stom- ach kept growing until she could feel it in her heart and kidneys and bladder. An itching, like everything inside her was red and inflamed. And then, suddenly, a squawk burst out of her mouth. A braying explosion that sounded like crying without tears. Its vibrations rippled through her chest. It lasted about five seconds, and then stopped just as suddenly as it had started. She ran her hands along the tops of her breasts and pressed, as if searching for a hidden animal in there. It was unnerving that she’d been able to produce such a noise. Like something in her lungs had woken up, and decided to bark.
Out the window, a haze settled over the woods. It looked like a dirty fog. She watched it drift down the hill and through the vents of the car. It stank like skunk. Particulate sulfur pollution and ash from the old mill. Another reason she should never have planned a class trip here. Right now every one of those searchers had to be thinking: That Lois Larkin, what an imbecile!
Suddenly, from outside the car, she heard a child’s voice; high-pitched but not girlish. It was muffled, and she couldn’t tell what it said. James? she wondered. Was he out there? Had they found him?
She got out of the car. The base of the woods was full of parked SUVs, Audis, Saabs, and Hondas. She could hear the searchers calling to one another, but it didn’t sound like they’d found him. The voice was coming from the woods, too. It was muffled, but it definitely belonged to a child. A boy. She sighed with relief. Thank God. Oh, thank the dear, sweet Lord.
She jogged into the woods, and now she could hear what the boy said. “Lois,” he called. James, she thought with relief so sweet that her saliva could have been Necco wafers: Only a terror like James would use her first name.
She jogged through the search party’s net. Her brow was sweating, and she was beginning to pant. “That you, Miss Larkin?” a volunteer fireman asked. He shone a white sphere of light across her face. She shielded her eyes with her hands.
“Yeah, ith me.”
“Okay. Take it easy. We’ll find him.” “Sure.”
Deeper in the woods, the voice called again: “Lois!” The sound reverberated through the air. An idea oc- curred to her, but she didn’t want to think about it. A part of the voice came from the woods, but if she was going to be honest, really honest, it came from a closer place, too. It was soft and barely discernible. A whis- per. It came from inside her own head.
Did she want to find this kid so badly she was invent- ing him? Probably. Still, he might be out there. He might be alive, and if she found him, she could fix this mess she’d made. She lifted her shirt and began to scratch her belly: The itch had spread from her organs all the way out to her skin.
She reached the river where the searchers had turned around, and crossed it. Beyond the rocks was a clear- ing. The voice wasn’t calling her anymore, but she could feel it. She could feel it inside her. Was she going crazy? Maybe. It didn’t matter. One way or another, she was going to find
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