Kristy and the Missing Child

by Ann M. Martin

  I was quiet for a moment. I started to think about seeing Mrs. Kuhn. I wondered if she blamed me at all for Jake’s disappearance. After all, I had been the last person to see her son. The last person. I couldn’t stop picturing him in my head. I could see him as plain as day, waving and smiling as he started toward home. How could I have let him go off alone, even if it was okay with his mom? Normally I’m so responsible it’s sickening.

  Maybe I’d been distracted by the fact that Bart was waiting to walk me home. Maybe I’d just been thinking about myself. Maybe everything was my fault. I closed my eyes tight and let out a groan.

  “What’s the matter, sweetie?” asked my mom. “Does your stomach hurt? I told you not to rush through your supper.”

  “I’m fine,” I said. But I was feeling kind of sick to my stomach. The thought of facing Mrs. Kuhn was suddenly beginning to make me wish that our station wagon was heading in any direction except toward the Kuhns’ house. I felt horrible.

  “Um, Mrs. Brewer?” asked Shannon as my mom parked the car in front of the Kuhns’. “I think I’ll just wait in the car. I don’t really know the Kuhns, and it looks as if they’ve got enough company already.” She gestured at the cars that were parked on the street. I counted at least six, plus two police cars.

  “That sounds fine, Shannon,” said my mom. “We won’t be long.”

  “See you,” I said to Shannon, as I got out of the car. My throat felt like it had closed up. How was I going to talk to Mrs. Kuhn? Mom and I walked toward the house.

  The place was lit up from top to bottom, and the front door was open wide. Light streamed out onto the front lawn. I heard lots of people talking at once. A police radio squawked and a static-y voice boomed out, but I couldn’t tell what the voice was saying. I felt as if I was walking in slow motion, which was fine with me. The slower the better. Maybe if I walked slowly enough, Jake would be home by the time I reached the front door.

  “Kristy, please stop dawdling,” said my mother impatiently. Then she took a closer look at my face. “Is something wrong?” she asked, more gently.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “I told you, I’m fine.” My mother tightened her lips and shook her head at me. I couldn’t believe I’d just snapped at her. I hardly ever do that. But I was feeling so, so nervous about seeing Mrs. Kuhn. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “It’s just that —”

  “Caroline!” said my mother, looking up toward the house. “Any news?”

  Mrs. Kuhn shook her head sadly. She was standing in the doorway, framed by light. I saw a policeman in the hall behind her, talking into his radio. “I’m glad you came by, though. Everybody’s being so supportive — it’s really wonderful. It’s times like these when you realize what good friends you have.”

  “I just wish there was something I could do,” said my mom.

  “There’s nothing anyone can do,” replied Mrs. Kuhn. “Unless you know where Harry is. We can’t locate him, and until we find him there’s nothing we can do but wait. Why don’t you come in?”

  I had been kind of standing in the shadows behind my mom, but I figured I had to show myself at some point. Now was as good a time as any. I stepped out so that Mrs. Kuhn could see me. I cleared my throat. “Um —” I began.

  “Kristy!” said Mrs. Kuhn. “I didn’t see you there. Come on in and have some cake. Everybody’s been bringing food over, for some reason. I guess they just want to do something. Everybody’s been so helpful with the girls, too — they’re staying at the McGills’ tonight.”

  At the McGills’? I thought they were at Mal’s.

  My mom and I walked into the house, and there I was, standing right next to Mrs. Kuhn. I took a deep breath. “Mrs. Kuhn,” I said, a little too loudly. I toned it down a bit. “Mrs. Kuhn, I just want to say that I’m really, really sorry. I feel like this is my fault —”

  “Stop right there,” said Mrs. Kuhn. “Please, don’t apologize. There is no way this is your fault. I know that you are an incredibly responsible baby-sitter, and that you would never let a child go off alone unless you knew it was all right. And I had given Jake permission to walk home alone.”

  “But —” I said.

  Mrs. Kuhn went on, ignoring my interruption. “Please, just don’t feel guilty,” she said. “This is bad enough without second-guessing ourselves about what we could have done or should have done.”

  I nodded. I knew she was right. I knew it wasn’t my fault, and I’d known it in my heart all along. But somehow, apologizing had made me feel much better. “We had an emergency meeting of our club tonight,” I told Mrs. Kuhn. “We want to help find Jake.”

  “That’s nice,” she said vaguely. I got the feeling she didn’t think that a bunch of middle school girls could do much to help. “Why don’t you help yourself to some cake?” she suggested again, pointing toward the dining room table. Then she turned to my mother. “I have tried everything I can think of to find Harry,” she said, sounding frazzled.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve tried so far, and maybe together we can think of something else,” said my mom. I hung around for a minute, hoping to hear what Mrs. Kuhn had done. But my mom turned and saw me. “Go on, Kristy,” she said. Obviously, she didn’t think there was any reason for me to be listening.

  I walked over to the food table, feeling like a little kid who’s been told to stand in the corner. I helped myself to a piece of carrot cake, even though I wasn’t hungry at all. As I stood there eating it, I could hear scraps of the conversation between Mrs. Kuhn and my mom.

  “— just can’t imagine where Harry could have taken him,” Mrs. Kuhn was saying.

  “Oh, Caroline,” said my mom. “You must be so worried. Have you tried —”

  My mom’s question was drowned out by a blast of static from the policeman’s radio. How annoying. If I was going to help find Jake, I needed all the information I could get.

  Before I’d even finished my carrot cake, my mom came to find me. “Let’s go,” she said. “I think Caroline is feeling a little overwhelmed. I’ll check in with her in the morning.”

  We drove Shannon home and then pulled in to our own driveway. I ran indoors, headed straight for the phone, and dialed Bart’s number. I don’t call him very often — I still feel kind of shy about it — but that night I really needed to talk to him. After all, he’d been with me when I said good-bye to Jake, and I knew he’d understand how I was feeling. We talked for a long time.

  After I hung up, I felt exhausted. I climbed into bed without even brushing my teeth. I turned out the lamp and lay in the dark. It was pitch-black outside by then. Where could Jake be? I had been sure he’d be home safe in his bed by this time. I thought of him out there in the night. Was he afraid? Was he feeling lonely? Was he homesick?

  Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, I realized that I hadn’t even looked at my homework that night. But you know what? I didn’t care. All I cared about was finding Jake.

  That evening when Stacey had gotten home from our meeting, she found out that Mrs. Kuhn had brought Patsy and Laurel over to spend the night. She’d told Stacey’s mom that she hated to impose on the Pikes, since they didn’t have much room for two extra kids.

  Stacey’s mom was glad to help out. I think she feels a special kind of closeness with Mrs. Kuhn, since she’s been through a divorce recently, too.

  Mrs. Kuhn had asked Stacey’s mom not to tell the girls too much more about what was going on. She thought it would be traumatic for the girls to hear anyone talking about their father as if he were a kidnapper. That made sense to Stacey.

  Stacey and her mom fixed up the guest room for the girls. Patsy and Laurel didn’t seem to notice how upset their mom had been acting. They were too excited about “sleeping over” at Stacey’s.

  “Can we watch a movie?” asked Patsy.

  “Can we stay up late?” asked Laurel. “Mommy lets us stay up late sometimes on special nights.”

  “Wellll,” said Stacey. “I think it’s a little t
oo late to start a movie. Besides, I don’t think my mom and I own any movies you two would like …”

  “You don’t even have The Little Mermaid?” asked Patsy, her eyes round. “I thought everybody had that.”

  “Sorry!” said Stacey. “But you know what we do have? A really great popcorn popper. And I think we should have a popcorn picnic. How about that?”

  “What’s a popcorn picnic?” asked Laurel.

  “Well, it’s something my mom and I do sometimes,” answered Stacey. “We make a huge batch of popcorn, and then we divide it up and put different flavorings on it. We put butter on some, and grated cheese on some, and my mom even likes to put cinnamon on some and eat it with milk, like cereal! Then we take all the popcorn into the living room, spread out a blanket, and have a feast. Sometimes we do taste tests, to see whose recipe is the best.”

  “Yay!” said Patsy. “Popcorn picnics sound like fun.”

  Stacey was relieved that her idea had gone over so well. She herded the girls into the kitchen, started them singing “Bingo” (she knows that song takes a long time to finish), and set up the popcorn popper. She rustled around in the fridge and in the spice cabinet, and lined up some possible flavorings on the kitchen table.

  By the time the popcorn was done, the girls were on the last verse of their song. “… and Bingo was his name-o!” finished Laurel and Patsy just as Stacey was dividing the steaming popcorn into several small bowls.

  “Okay, let’s see,” said Stacey. “I like to put Parmesan cheese on mine.” She reached for the shaker and gave her bowl a generous dose.

  “How about this stuff?” asked Laurel, grabbing a spice bottle and shaking it over her bowl. “Wow, that smells strong!” she said.

  “I hope you like garlic!” Stacey said, laughing. “You just dumped a whole lot of it onto your popcorn.”

  Laurel reached in and grabbed a handful. She put a kernel of popcorn into her mouth, chewed tentatively, and then gave Stacey a big smile. “I like it,” she said. “It’s good. It tastes kind of like pizza.”

  Meanwhile, Patsy had gotten busy with a few jars and bottles. “Look what I made,” she said proudly, tilting her bowl so that Stacey could see.

  “Oh gro — I mean, mmm, that looks good!” said Stacey. “What’s that brown stuff?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Patsy. “It was in this bottle.” She held up an empty container.

  “Maple syrup?” asked Stacey. “Ew — I mean, that might be good. You never know. But I think you’ll need some wet napkins with that, because it’s going to be sticky.” She went to the sink and moistened some napkins. “How about if we take our picnic into the living room,” she said. “We can spread out this tablecloth and pretend we’re outside.” She picked up the tablecloth and her bowl of popcorn and led the girls, who carried their bowls, into the living room. They settled down, and Stacey began to think that her “picnic” idea was a success. Then she noticed that Patsy was sniffling as she ate.

  “What’s the matter, Patsy?” she asked.

  “I miss Mommy,” said Patsy. “And Jake. And Daddy. When will we get to be with them again?” She rubbed her eyes with her sticky fists.

  “Soon, I hope,” said Stacey. “You’ll see your mommy first thing in the morning. I’ll bring you home on my way to school.”

  “And maybe the policemen will have found Jake by then, too,” said Laurel, looking hopeful.

  “Maybe they will have,” said Stacey.

  “They better find him before his birthday,” said Patsy. “He’ll be sad if he misses his Turtle party. Especially since Daddy will probably come to it.”

  “Your father is coming to the party?” Stacey asked Laurel, over Patsy’s head.

  “No way,” said Laurel. “He said he can’t. I think Patsy just wishes he would.”

  “No, he is coming,” said Patsy. “I saw his car, so I know he’s here.” She looked excited. Then she thought of something, and her face fell. “Except I don’t know why he didn’t come to see me. I miss Daddy, don’t you?” She faced Laurel.

  “Yeah,” said Laurel. “But he lives very far away now, and he can’t come visit all the time.” Looking back at Stacey, she whispered, “She only thinks she saw Daddy’s car. She’s too little to know.”

  Stacey nodded. But she wondered. Patsy seemed so sure about seeing her father’s car. Had anyone told Mrs. Kuhn — or the police — about that? What if Mr. Kuhn really was in the area? What if he had Jake and what if he was just waiting for the chance to take Patsy and Laurel, too? Stacey shivered.

  “Time to finish up, you guys,” she said. “Then you can brush your teeth and hop into bed. If you get into your pajamas right away, I’ll read you a story.”

  The girls got ready for bed in record time, and they fell asleep before Stacey had even finished the first chapter of The Indian in the Cupboard. She turned out the light in the guest room and tiptoed downstairs to talk to her mom. She told her what Patsy had said. “Don’t you think we should tell Mrs. Kuhn?” she asked.

  “Absolutely,” said her mother. “Go ahead and call her right now. The police are probably still over there, and they should hear about it, too.”

  When Stacey told Mrs. Kuhn about Patsy seeing — or thinking she saw — her dad’s car, Mrs. Kuhn wasn’t too surprised. And, like Laurel, she didn’t put much stock in Patsy’s sighting. “Patsy misses her father very much,” she said. “It seems natural that she would think she’d seen his car. Also, I can’t believe he’d drive it all the way from Dallas. Still, it’s something we should look into. I’ll make sure the police hear about it.” Mrs. Kuhn thanked Stacey again for taking care of the girls. “I’ll see you first thing in the morning,” she said as she hung up.

  Stacey spent the rest of the evening thinking hard about what might have happened to Jake. She told me later that she had a hard time falling asleep with the mystery left unsolved. I don’t think any of us slept very well that night.

  I woke up and lay in bed for a moment, stretching and yawning. I could see that it was sunny and bright outside, which was a relief after all that rain. But as soon as I thought of the rain, I also thought of everything else that had happened the day before, and right away my stomach started to hurt.

  Jake was missing.

  The full weight of that fact hit me so hard that I almost felt like pulling the covers back over my head and hiding in bed all day. But the feeling only lasted a second. Then I began to have another, stronger feeling. I had to do something. I had to figure out a way to find Jake. It was time to take action.

  I got dressed in a hurry and ran downstairs. “Any word from Mrs. Kuhn?” I asked my mother.

  “She hasn’t called this morning,” said my mother. “And I’m afraid that in this case, no news is not good news. She promised to call me right away if Jake was found.” She sighed and shook her head sadly. “Poor Caroline,” she said. “I can’t imagine what she must be going through.”

  I sat down to eat breakfast, deep in thought. What could I do to find Jake? I didn’t have the resources the police did: walkie-talkies, squad cars, computers. I thought some more as I ate my cereal and toast. I was concentrating so hard that I didn’t even notice when David Michael joined me at the table. At least, I didn’t notice him there until my mother pointed out that I hadn’t saved him any toast.

  “Kristy,” she said. “What about your brother?”

  My brother! That was it. Suddenly an idea came to me. It was exactly like in the cartoons, when a light bulb goes on over someone’s head. I might not have the resources that the police had, but I had my brother and my friends’ brothers and sisters and their friends! If we got enough kids together to search for Jake, maybe we could find him.

  I knew that the police were already searching, and I knew that Mrs. Kuhn was almost sure that Mr. Kuhn had taken Jake. But something inside me just didn’t believe that. Maybe Jake had gotten lost, or hurt — or both — on his way home from our Krushers’ game. And maybe we could find him.


  I think I was still feeling just a tiny bit guilty about Jake being missing. No matter how many times I told myself that it wasn’t my fault, I couldn’t help thinking that I’d been the last one to see him. I felt responsible.

  But when I thought about organizing a search party, I felt much better. I’m the kind of person who needs to be doing things. I can’t just sit around and worry. So while I finished my breakfast, I started to make a list of things to do. I used the back of a social studies handout, which was the only piece of paper I could find. Here’s how my list started:

  1) Emergency BSC meeting before homeroom — fill in other members on plan.

  2) Talk to principal about setting up sign-up table during lunch.

  3) Contact parents — get permission for kids to join search party.

  4) Possible searchers — Matt and Haley Braddock, Adam, Jordan, and —

  “Kristy!” said my mom, interrupting my list-making. “I’ve been trying to get your attention. You’re about to miss your bus!”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said, folding up the list and sticking it in my back pocket. I’d been concentrating so hard that I hadn’t even heard her call my name the first couple of times.

  As soon as the bus let me off in front of school, I started to round up the other BSC members. “I’m calling a quick emergency meeting,” I told Mary Anne, who was the first person I found. “Help me get everyone together, okay?” We took off in opposite directions, and within minutes we’d gathered everyone except Jessi. She had gone into the building early.

  “Jessi’s lock isn’t working right lately,” Mal explained. “What’s up? Did the police find Jake?”

  I shook my head. “Unfortunately, they didn’t. But listen, I have an idea. I think we should organize a big search party — all of us, plus the kids we sit for, plus any kids from our classes who want to help out. If we get a lot of people, we can really cover the neighborhood.”