Kristy and the Missing Child Read online

  “That’s what I thought, too,” said Bart. “Let’s go!”

  We walked toward the house, stopping every few yards to call to Jake and to listen for a response. By then, the kids were following along behind us.

  As we drew closer to the house, the voice we’d been hearing got a little louder, but it never sounded very strong. At one point I looked down and realized that my fists were clenched tight, out of nervousness, I guess. Could it really be Jake we were hearing? Were we really going to find him? I felt a little dizzy.

  “Jake!” I called again. We’d reached the house, and I leaned into its skeleton-like frame and looked around. I didn’t hear an answer. “I don’t see anybody,” I said to Bart. “But I could have sworn this is where the voice was coming from.”

  “Me, too,” he answered. “How about if I stay here with the kids and listen while you explore inside the house. I’m sure he’s nearby. We just have to pin down where he is.” Bart was talking as if he were positive that it was Jake we had been hearing. I couldn’t let myself believe that yet. I was too afraid of being disappointed one more time.

  “Okay,” I said. I liked the fact that Bart was going to watch the kids while I did the exploring. A lot of boys would have insisted that it should be the other way around. I walked through the hole that would eventually be the front door. A floor had been laid, but it seemed temporary and not too solid. I walked carefully.

  “Jake!” I called, every few steps. “Jake!” I headed into what would someday be the living room of the house. A space had been marked for a big picture window. I walked through that room and into what would probably be the kitchen. And then I saw the hole. In the floor was a dark, yawning hole. The basement! That’s where the stairs to the basement were going to be — but they weren’t there yet.

  I ran to the hole. “Jake!” I yelled. “Are you down there?”

  “Kristy? Is that you?”

  I was shocked to hear my name. “YES!” I yelled. “Is that you, Jake?” My heart was beating a mile a minute.

  “Uh huh,” he answered.

  “Jake, are you all right? Are you hurt? You must be hungry. How did you get down there?” I knew I was asking too many questions all at once, but I couldn’t stop myself.

  I heard him sniff, and I knew he was crying a little. “I’m pretty hungry,” he said. “And my leg hurts a lot. Maybe it’s broken.” He sounded tired and scared.

  “Oh, Jake,” I said. “Listen, I’m going to leave you for a second, okay? Just to tell the others to get help. I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay,” he replied. Then, before I could even stand up, he called my name. “Kristy? I miss my mom. Can you make sure that she knows where I am?”

  I felt my eyes tear up. What a good kid. He knew his mom was worried about him. “Of course. Anything else?”

  “Could you get me something to eat?” he asked. “And I’m really thirsty, too.”

  “Food and drink, coming right up,” I said. I jumped up and ran back to where Bart was waiting. “He’s here!” I said. “In the basement. I can’t figure out how to get him out, though. We’ll need help. Somebody with a ladder.”

  “I’ll go call the police,” said Bart.

  “And Mrs. Kuhn!” I said.

  “And Mrs. Kuhn,” he echoed. He took off across the building site, and I brought the rest of the kids into the house, after warning them to be very, very careful where they stepped.

  “Jake!” I yelled into the hole. “You have some friends here, and they all want to say hello. Can you hear me all right?”

  “I can hear you,” said Jake weakly. “Who’s up there?”

  “Me!” shouted my brother. “It’s me, David Michael. We’ve been looking for you for two whole days!”

  “I’m glad you found me,” said Jake.

  “Hi, Jake!” said Karen. “Remember me? Karen? Are you okay?”

  “Hi, Karen,” said Jake. “I’m okay. I just wish it wasn’t so dark down here. It’s kind of scary.”

  “Ew!” she said. “It sounds yucky. Are there spiders?”

  “I haven’t seen any,” said Jake.

  “Hi, Jake,” yelled Andrew. “It’s Andrew, Karen’s brother. Our stepsister Kristy is the one who found you. She kept looking and looking, and we looked with her.”

  “Lucky for me,” said Jake. “Is anyone else with you?”

  “Me — Haley — and Matt,” said Haley. “He’s going nuts because he can’t sign to you. But I’ll tell you what he’s saying.” She paused for a moment. “He says — he says he wants to know what you’ve been doing down there all this time. He’s wondering if there’s a rec room, with Nintendo and Ping-Pong and everything.”

  Jake laughed weakly, and the other kids laughed with him. “Right,” he said. “I’ve been playing Super Mario Brothers the whole time.”

  I was glad to hear Jake laughing. Apparently, his spirits were okay, even if he did sound exhausted. “So, Jake,” I said, “how did you end up down there, anyway?” I figured it was best to keep him talking until help arrived.

  “It was dumb,” he said. “See, I was on my way home after practice. But I remembered I’ve been wanting to check this place for used nails and screws. Me and Matt were going to start building a treehouse this weekend. Right, Matt?”

  Haley had been interpreting for Matt as Jake spoke, and Matt nodded, smiling. “He remembers,” said Haley.

  “Anyway, I turned around and headed for this place,” Jake continued, “but by the time I got here, it was pouring. All the workers were gone, so I figured I could get away with going into one of the houses, just to stay dry. I walked into this one, but I couldn’t see too well. It was kind of dark because of the rain. I was feeling my way around, when all of a sudden —”

  “You fell right through the floor!” I said. “I can see how that could happen. There’s a giant hole here. The workers must be used to walking around it, but if you didn’t see it, it would be easy to fall through.”

  “That’s what happened,” said Jake. “And then I couldn’t get out! There aren’t any stairs. The ceiling is about a million feet over my head. And anyway, even if there were stairs, I don’t know if I could climb out. My leg is killing me.” He started to cry again, quietly. I could tell he didn’t want the other kids to hear him.

  “But Jake, weren’t the workers here yesterday?” I asked. “Didn’t they hear you calling for help?”

  “They were around,” he said, “but they were running their machines all day, and I couldn’t yell loud enough for them to hear. Plus, I kept falling asleep. I didn’t get much sleep on Thursday night because my leg hurt, so by then I was really tired.”

  “Well,” I said. “We’re just glad we found you. Everybody’s been so worried —”

  Just then I heard brakes squeal outside, and a car door slammed. About two seconds later, Mrs. Kuhn appeared in the room. Bart was right behind her. “Where is he?” she asked wildly. “Where’s Jake?”

  I pointed into the hole.

  “Oh, Jakey,” she cried. “Are you all right, honey?”

  “I’m okay, Mom,” he said. “Really, I am.” He must have been so glad to hear his mother’s voice.

  Mrs. Kuhn started to cry. I put my hand on her arm. “He’s okay,” I said. “The police will have him out of there in no time.”

  “I know,” she said, sobbing. “I’m just so relieved. Oh, Kristy, how can I ever thank you for finding him?”

  I smiled and shook my head. I didn’t need any thanks.

  “Hey, Jake!” called Bart. I noticed that he was holding a brown paper bag, and now he tossed it down into the hole. “Your friend at the candy store sent you this.”

  A second later we heard Jake yelling happily, “Kit Kats! Twinkies! Doritos! Apple juice! All right!”

  “This is one time I don’t mind if he eats junk,” said Mrs. Kuhn, wiping her eyes. “He can have whatever he wants. I’m just so happy he’s safe!”

  Bart told us that he’d gone to the
convenience store to make his phone calls, and that the owner had insisted on filling up the bag for Jake. “He kept saying what a good boy Jake is,” he told Mrs. Kuhn.

  “Are the police coming?” I asked.

  “Any minute,” said Bart. “The rescue crew said they’d be right over.” As he finished speaking, I heard sirens.

  The crew got Jake out of the basement easily. All it took was a ladder, lowered into the hole. They brought him out on a stretcher. He was very dirty, and he looked tired and hungry, but he gave us a grin as he was carried out of the hole. A woman on the crew looked Jake over for broken bones and other injuries, while the rest of the workers pulled the ambulance around. “He’s okay,” she said. “Some bad bumps and bruises. The leg doesn’t seem broken. But we’ll take him to the hospital. He’s probably dehydrated, and he needs to be checked more thoroughly.”

  By then, a crowd had gathered. A reporter from the newspaper was there, asking questions and taking notes. The local news team pointed cameras at the house. A lot of the other kids who had been looking for Jake had shown up, too.

  As the ambulance pulled away with Jake and his mom inside it, the reporters pushed in to ask me and Bart questions. I pulled Matt beside me. “This is the guy you want to talk to,” I said. “He’s the one who knew just where to look.”

  I pulled a dress out of my closet (it wasn’t hard to choose one, since I only own about three) and walked over to the mirror. I held the dress up in front of me, to see how it looked. Not bad at all. I happen to like that dress — it’s blue, with a drop waist and a full skirt — and I know I look pretty nice in it. I wore it once when my family went to a fancy restaurant to celebrate a promotion my mom had gotten at work.

  I was trying to decide whether or not to wear the dress to Awards Night. It wasn’t a big dress-up occasion or anything — lots of kids would be wearing regular school clothes — but for some reason I was feeling the urge to look a little bit special. I turned this way and that, imagining my hair up in a French braid and a strand of pearls (fake ones, of course!) around my neck. I imagined my friends complimenting me on how I looked. I imagined Bart gazing at me with a special look in his eyes. And I was just about ready to put the dress on when suddenly I remembered some of the other things that are involved when you wear a dress.

  A slip. Pantyhose. Shoes that pinch.

  “Forget it,” I said out loud. I practically threw the dress back into the closet and headed for my dresser drawers, where I knew I could find something a little more comfortable, a little more informal, a little more Kristy.

  I decided on my best jeans and a new sweater, and I wore loafers instead of running shoes. I did not wear my favorite baseball cap, the one with a picture of a collie on it. (The collie reminds me of Louie, a dog we used to have.) But I didn’t put my hair up, either. I wanted to be myself for Awards Night. After all, I was probably just going to be sitting in the audience, anyway. I didn’t expect to get any of those silly awards they hand out. But it sure was going to be fun to watch some of the other kids get theirs. I had heard a rumor that Pete Black, who happens to be president of our class, was going to be named “Class Clown,” and that he was planning to wear a clown suit for the occasion.

  I heard the doorbell ring downstairs, and a minute later my mom yelled up to me that Bart was there. I’d invited him to Awards Night as my guest, since he doesn’t go to SMS. (He goes to Stoneybrook Day School, which is a private school.) I was glad that the student committee had decided to let each eighth-grader bring a guest, because that meant not only that Bart could come, but that Jessi and Mallory could be there, too.

  I walked into the kitchen and found Bart there talking to my mom and Watson. “Hi, Bart. Boy, you look nice!” I blurted it out before I had time to think about how it would sound.

  Bart blushed, which actually made him look even nicer. He was wearing a white button-down shirt, kind of baggy and cool-looking, and a pair of bleached-out jeans that fit him perfectly. “You look nice, too,” he said. “But you always look nice.”

  I guess Bart really is the perfect boy for me — if I have to have a boyfriend. Not too many guys would think I “always look nice” — not in the outfits I usually run around in. But Bart doesn’t seem to care much about clothes and stuff. He could tell you how many bases my team stole in the last game we played, but I’m sure he wouldn’t remember which of my baseball hats I’d been wearing.

  I checked my watch. “Ready to go?” I asked. “We’re going to be late if we don’t leave soon.”

  Charlie drove us to the school, and as soon as we pulled up I saw the other members standing in front of the auditorium, where we’d agreed to meet. Everybody looked great. Claud was wearing some kind of black jumpsuit-thing with a wide red belt. She looked incredibly cool, and so did Stacey, who was wearing tie-dyed leggings and a short dress that was kind of also like a man’s shirt. (Sorry, I’m not so good at describing clothes!) I was glad to see that nobody was really dressed up. Dawn, Jessi, and Mal were just wearing jeans, and Mary Anne, who was talking to Logan, was wearing the skirt she’d finally finished making in home ec.

  “Hey, the skirt looks great,” I said. “Turn around, let’s see.”

  “Kristy!” said Mary Anne. She was blushing. She is so shy. Sometimes I forget, and I embarrass her. But this time she smiled at me and gave a quick spin. “It came out okay, didn’t it?” she said. “So did my final grade. Those Jell-O treats really did the trick. You know what’s funny, though?” she said. “I thought I invented those things, but it turns out that the recipe for them is on almost every one of the new Jell-O boxes. They’re called Jigglers. Isn’t that a riot?”

  I laughed. “Well, whatever they are, I’m sure I’ll be making them sometime soon. They’re a great idea for a rainy-day project.”

  “Oh, wow, I almost forgot to ask,” said Mary Anne. “But when you said ‘rainy day,’ it reminded me. How’s Jake doing since he got home?”

  “He’s great!” I said. “In fact, he came to a Krushers’ practice this afternoon. Patsy and Laurel were with him — they stick to him like glue these days. He looked shy at first, as if he wasn’t sure the other kids would remember him or something. But they remembered him, that’s for sure. As soon as he walked onto the field, everybody started applauding. The kids were so glad to see him.”

  “That’s great,” said Bart. “And he’s feeling okay?”

  “Oh, sure,” I said. “He has a couple of bruises, and his leg’s still sore, but he’s fine. In fact, he pitched three innings today and he did a great job. He’s our main relief pitcher from now on.”

  “We should plan another Bashers–Krushers game soon,” said Bart. “Now that things are back to normal.”

  “There is one thing I’d like to know,” said Mallory. She loves mysteries, and she never forgets a clue. “Where was Mr. Kuhn, anyway?”

  I laughed. “He was in Mexico. He went on business. And before that he’d been in Texas.”

  “He was never here? What about that car that Patsy saw?” Jessi asked.

  “I guess there must be another one that looks like Mr. Kuhn’s,” I said. “At least to Patsy. She misses her dad a lot. But she’ll see him soon. He’s going to be able to come to Jake’s birthday party, after all.”

  “That’s great,” said Mary Anne. I noticed that she had tears in her eyes. Mary Anne just loves a happy ending.

  “Hey, we better get inside,” said Claudia. “It sounds as if they’re about to start.”

  Sure enough, I could hear the microphone shrieking and popping as the AV crew tested it. We ran in and found a row of seats near the back. I sat down between Bart and Mary Anne, and waited for the program to begin. Mr. Kingbridge, the vice-principal of SMS, sat on the stage over to one side. He looked like he’d rather not be there, but I figured he had to be, just so there would be at least one adult at Awards Night. One of the AV guys spoke into the mike.

  “Testing, testing,” he said. “One, two, th —”

>   The mike shrieked loudly, and the boy jumped back. Mr. Kingbridge winced. Everybody in the audience broke up. The boy laughed along with them, and pretended to strangle the mike. “Let’s try that again,” he said.

  Finally everything was ready. “Ladies and germs,” said the AV guy, “may I introduce the president of the eighth grade, Mr. Pete Black — otherwise known as Bozo!”

  Pete walked onstage dressed in a clown costume. He looked ridiculous! He had put on a big red nose, a wig the color of cotton candy, and these huge, gigantic shoes. Mary Anne and I looked at each other and cracked up. Everybody else was laughing, too.

  “What?” asked Pete, acting as if nothing were unusual. Then he laughed, too. “Okay, we have a lot of awards to give out tonight, so let’s get started,” he said. “First, I’d like to introduce my assistant for this evening, Alan Gray.”

  Alan Gray, who is the most obnoxious boy in our class, came out of the wings. He was also dressed in a clown costume. Pete glared at him. “Hey, what’s the idea?” he asked. The audience cracked up again.

  “Don’t be so sure you’re going to win that Class Clown award,” said Alan. He was holding one hand behind his back. “I’m going to win it. But there’s another prize you might get — the booby prize!” He whipped a big pie out and shoved it in Pete’s face.

  The auditorium went wild. Mr. Kingbridge started to get up out of his seat, then sat down again. Pete looked shocked for a second, but then he laughed and wiped some of the whipped cream off his face. He tasted it and smiled. “Thanks for the pie, Alan,” he said. “It’s delicious.” A girl walked out of the wings and gave Pete a towel.

  “They planned that, didn’t they?” I whispered to Mary Anne. She nodded, smiling.

  Then Alan and Pete started handing out the awards. As it turned out, neither of them won the Class Clown award. The class had voted for this guy named Justin Forbes instead. Pete and Alan pretended to be mad, but no more pies were thrown.

  Pete gave out some more awards, for stuff like Best Excuse For Not Doing Homework (a girl named Erica Blumberg won, for telling her teacher that her mom had composted her report), Most Often Seen Sleeping (this guy named Jerry won — he was always taking naps in study hall), and Worst Dresser (Mr. Kingbridge — as an “honorary eighth-grader” — won that one!). Then Pete announced that it was time for the academic awards. Guess what the first one was? “Most Improved Home-Ec Student.” And guess who won?