Read Online Took by Mary Downing Hahn - Free Book Online

into going to the woods with flashlights to look for the doll. I didn’t want to leave the house, but I felt bad about leaving Little Erica in the woods. That doll was just a hunk of plastic to me, but to Erica she was almost a real person.
    When we opened the back door, a gust of wind blew leaves into the kitchen. They skittered across the floor and settled in corners as if they’d been waiting to come inside.
    It took all of Dad’s strength to pull the door shut behind us. The night was biting cold. An almost full moon lit the field.
    At the edge of the woods, we turned on our flashlights. The wind tossed the trees, and their shadows danced over the path, crossing and crisscrossing the ground, making it hard to see.
    I stayed close to Dad and aimed the flashlight at the ground. Nothing looked familiar. It was as if we’d taken a different path, one you could find only at night. I heard noises in the undergrowth. I imagined creatures you’d never see in daylight scurrying through the dead leaves. I kept my eyes on the path so I wouldn’t see anything in the shadows on either side of me.
    After we’d walked for half an hour or so, Dad stopped. His flashlight probed the dark, picking out one tree, then another. An owl was caught in the beam for a moment, its eyes huge and shining. Without giving me time to identify him, he flew soundlessly into the woods.
    â€œAre you sure we’re going the right way?” Dad asked.
    â€œI think maybe we passed the clearing,” I admitted. “I don’t remember it being this far.”
    â€œI told you we should wait until morning to look for that doll.”
    I shone my flashlight behind us. “It all looks the same in the dark.”
    â€œSo I noticed,” Dad said.
    We turned around and walked back the way we’d come. Dad studied every tree, every boulder, every fallen log.
    He asked the same questions over and over. “Is this it? Does that tree look familiar? Do you think we’re close?”
    My answer was always the same. “I don’t know.”
    After a while, Dad came up with new questions. “Did you scare Erica on purpose? Why didn’t you stop and let her get the doll? Were you teasing her? Bullying her?”
    â€œNo,” I said. “No. I saw something, Dad. I thought—”
    He shook his head. “You
saw
something. All this because you
saw
something. What’s wrong with you? I’ve been all over these woods and never seen anything out of the ordinary.”
    Bumbling and stumbling ahead of me, Dad thrashed at dry weeds and dead vines with a stick. Everything was my fault—my fault Erica was hysterical, my fault the doll was missing, my fault we couldn’t find the clearing, my fault we were wandering around in the woods freezing our butts off.
    â€œI give up,” Dad said. “The doll’s gone, and your sister is heartbroken. You should feel really great about that.”
    Dad had never talked to me this way. He got mad so easily now. So did Mom. Erica was unhappy and secretive and strange. I was miserable in school. And lonely. Nothing was right.
    Without speaking to each other, Dad and I left the woods and trudged across the field. In the cold and windy dark, the house looked warm and inviting. Lights shone from the windows, smoke rose from the chimney, but it was like a mirage. Up close, inside the house, the warmth and happiness vanished.
    Â 
    No one spoke at breakfast. Mom slammed bowls of cold cereal down in front of Erica and me. She and Dad had already eaten and were getting ready to leave for work.
    Before she left, Mom hugged Erica. “Please don’t look so sad, sweetie. You and Daniel can look for Little Erica when you get home from school. In the daylight, you’re sure to find her.”
    Erica didn’t say anything. She sat with her head down, her cereal untouched, tears trickling down her cheeks.
    â€œErica, I promise I’ll find