Read The Missing for Free Online

haunting him in these woods, which had made him forget where he was going. He couldn’t see the blue sky
    overhead anymore. Just dead branches and dry leaves so thick that everything was sort of shadowy, even though it was daytime.
    The kids in his class said this place was full of ghosts, which was why the trip to Bedford had sounded like so much fun. But nobody had seen anything special out here, except for Miss Sad Sack Larkin, crying.
    He sat on a rock that hung high over a shallow stream, and suddenly felt bad. He didn’t like being alone all the time. These woods were too quiet. Some- times he thought about sneaking into Danny’s room and putting a pillow over his face, and then doing the same to his parents. Then he could have a new family that didn’t frown when they looked at him.
    James climbed out on the overhang and laid across the rock. In the water he saw his reflection. A boy with blond hair and blue eyes. A good-looking boy with a mean streak. He threw a stone, and the water rippled. When it got clear again, his reflection was different. His skin was pale, and his eyes were black. It looked familiar, and James thought for a second that it was the bad thing that lived inside him. The thing that liked to do harm.
    It is always hungry; it is never satisfied , he thought, even though he didn’t know what that meant. His re- flection winked at him, and he jumped. It was alive, even though it was just a reflection.
    “Who are you?” he asked. “Do you want to play?”
    The woods got darker suddenly, like it was going to rain. The reflection went dark, too. James, a voice whis- pered. The sound echoed through the dead trees.
    He looked around, but he couldn’t see anyone. In his pants, he got what his brother called a stiffie. You were supposed to get them when you looked at girls, but
    James only got them when he was scared or doing something wrong. If he tried to wish them away they got worse, so mostly he just ignored them.
    I’ll play with you, James . The voice was watery, like it had slithered up from the bottom of the river and wasn’t used to being on the surface. He didn’t know if it belonged to a man or a woman, which was doubly bad, because that meant he was getting stiffies from men’s voices, too. But he couldn’t help it!
    He jumped off the rock and peered in the direction of the voice. Another breeze blew, and he saw a trail. Birch tree branches jingled as they opened before him. The branches were pointed like fingers showing him the way. It reminded him of a cartoon he’d seen on televi- sion when he was little—the enchanted woods leading Little Red Riding Hood to Grandma’s house.
    He followed the sound of the voice down the path. It opened into a clearing, and when he reached it, the path closed behind him with that same jingling sound. His heart pounded: There was no way he’d find his way back.
    James , the thing gurgled.
    The chiggers had stopped biting all of a sudden. The animals were missing, too. Even the worms and moss and mushroom fungi were gone. Maybe the thing in the woods had hurt them. He could understand that.
    The dirt was as black as squid ink, and the hot ground warmed his toes even though he was wearing rubber-soled Nikes. It was the same kind of warm as the fire that had been in his stomach when Gimpy died. So cold it was hot, and it burned in all the wrong ways.
    He knew what he needed to do. The voice told him so. He picked up a sharp rock and broke the black dirt.
    The wind picked up a little at first, and then a lot. Branches jingled like music appreciation on caffeine; out of tune and heedless. That’s right, James , the voice said, only the voice wasn’t outside him anymore. It was crawling inside him. Slithering between his ears. Peer- ing at the woods from behind his eyes. He blubbered a little and slapped his face. “Get out!” he shouted, even though a part of him liked it, too.
    Don’t hide from me, James , it said. I know you . The voice was