The Missing Girl by Norma Fox Mazer Page B
Authors: Norma Fox Mazer
Tags: United States, Fiction, General, Family & Relationships, People & Places, Family, Juvenile Fiction, Family Life, New York (State), Siblings, Mysteries & Detective Stories, Abuse, Sisters, Kidnapping, Child Abuse, Law & Crime
Ads: Link
about the girls. Thinking . That’s all he’s doing. No one can accuse him for thinking.
He hopes to see his two favorites today. The pretty one with the belly has been in the lead for a while, even though her teeth stick out, but last week he heard her yelling at the others. She lost out with him that day. Still and all he likes her and keeps her in his mind, along with the little one with the long hair and the brimming eyes.
It’s between those two now. Which one is his favorite? The tantalizing question. Maybe today he’ll make up his mind.
85
MISS PRISS
AS THEY LEFT the house Monday morning, Beauty touched Stevie on the back and said, “Walk with me.” Early she had awakened to the reproachful thought that she was neglectful, so focused on her own dreary little wants and fantasies that she had overlooked the danger her little sister was headed for. She meant to make up for that right now. “I want to talk to you,” she said.
“And I want to talk to you.” Stevie stomped down the porch steps. “I have a bone to pick with you,” she said as they walked two and three abreast toward Elm Street.
“Me? A bone to pick with me? About what?” What notion had gotten into Stevie’s mind now? The girl always 86
had some grievance or other hanging about.
“Me to know, you to find out.” Stevie’s slightly slanted eyes glittered. She flung her scarf tighter around her neck.
“You’ll hear. Don’t be in such a hurry.”
The five of them walked to the corner in a clump, Fancy chattering as usual. It was not quite raining, but the air was wet and heavy, and the trees glistened. The snow was rapidly disappearing, although the icy mounds along the roads remained as dirty as ever from car exhaust.
“So who goes first?” Beauty said.
“Me,” Stevie answered like a shot. “Me!”
“Go ahead, I’m listening,” Beauty said. At the same time she was counting heads: Fancy was right behind her, Autumn and Mim walking ahead. She heard them working on Autumn’s spelling. “Sarcophagus,” Mim said, and Beauty winced as Autumn confidently rattled off, “S-A-R-C-U-F-G-U-S!”
“I saw you,” Stevie said. “I saw you!”
“What do you mean, saw me? Where? What are you talking about?” But she knew, and her heart set up a frightful clatter.
“I saw you spying on me.” Stevie’s eyes darkened.
“Spying? Are you crazy?”
87
“Don’t act so innocent. In the park. I saw you. Peeping at me!”
“Stevie. I was not spying. I was out for a walk, I was coming down from the top of Farley’s, and there you were.
I went away. I didn’t hang around! The moment I saw you, I left. Did you see me? Did you see me run away?”
“Yes, I saw you. That’s why you ran, because I spotted you. How long were you there, spying on me?”
“Stop it,” Beauty said. “Just stop that. I wasn’t spying. I saw you and . . . and . . . what I want to know is, what’s going on with you? We should have a talk about”—she faltered just for a moment—“about sex.”
“Oh, no way!” Stevie grabbed the straps of her backpack and pulled at them. “I don’t need any talks about that.”
“He had his hands all over you,” Beauty said. Her ribs ached. Or maybe it was her heart. Did she sound like a horrible, jealous person? “His hands were down your pants.”
“What’d you do, stand there and take notes?” Stevie said, smiling scornfully.
Beauty drew in a deep breath and told herself to stop, but could not keep from saying, “What are you doing with 88
him? I’m worried about you. Are you two—”
“Are we doing it ? Gasp,” Stevie mocked. “It’s none of your business, but I’ll tell you, anyway. No, dear sister, Miss Priss, who can’t say screwing , I am not doing it.”
Was she lying? Stevie often lied. “All right,” Beauty said. “I’m glad to hear that, because you’re too young to get going like that. I don’t want you to get into . . . into . . .
dangerous
He hopes to see his two favorites today. The pretty one with the belly has been in the lead for a while, even though her teeth stick out, but last week he heard her yelling at the others. She lost out with him that day. Still and all he likes her and keeps her in his mind, along with the little one with the long hair and the brimming eyes.
It’s between those two now. Which one is his favorite? The tantalizing question. Maybe today he’ll make up his mind.
85
MISS PRISS
AS THEY LEFT the house Monday morning, Beauty touched Stevie on the back and said, “Walk with me.” Early she had awakened to the reproachful thought that she was neglectful, so focused on her own dreary little wants and fantasies that she had overlooked the danger her little sister was headed for. She meant to make up for that right now. “I want to talk to you,” she said.
“And I want to talk to you.” Stevie stomped down the porch steps. “I have a bone to pick with you,” she said as they walked two and three abreast toward Elm Street.
“Me? A bone to pick with me? About what?” What notion had gotten into Stevie’s mind now? The girl always 86
had some grievance or other hanging about.
“Me to know, you to find out.” Stevie’s slightly slanted eyes glittered. She flung her scarf tighter around her neck.
“You’ll hear. Don’t be in such a hurry.”
The five of them walked to the corner in a clump, Fancy chattering as usual. It was not quite raining, but the air was wet and heavy, and the trees glistened. The snow was rapidly disappearing, although the icy mounds along the roads remained as dirty as ever from car exhaust.
“So who goes first?” Beauty said.
“Me,” Stevie answered like a shot. “Me!”
“Go ahead, I’m listening,” Beauty said. At the same time she was counting heads: Fancy was right behind her, Autumn and Mim walking ahead. She heard them working on Autumn’s spelling. “Sarcophagus,” Mim said, and Beauty winced as Autumn confidently rattled off, “S-A-R-C-U-F-G-U-S!”
“I saw you,” Stevie said. “I saw you!”
“What do you mean, saw me? Where? What are you talking about?” But she knew, and her heart set up a frightful clatter.
“I saw you spying on me.” Stevie’s eyes darkened.
“Spying? Are you crazy?”
87
“Don’t act so innocent. In the park. I saw you. Peeping at me!”
“Stevie. I was not spying. I was out for a walk, I was coming down from the top of Farley’s, and there you were.
I went away. I didn’t hang around! The moment I saw you, I left. Did you see me? Did you see me run away?”
“Yes, I saw you. That’s why you ran, because I spotted you. How long were you there, spying on me?”
“Stop it,” Beauty said. “Just stop that. I wasn’t spying. I saw you and . . . and . . . what I want to know is, what’s going on with you? We should have a talk about”—she faltered just for a moment—“about sex.”
“Oh, no way!” Stevie grabbed the straps of her backpack and pulled at them. “I don’t need any talks about that.”
“He had his hands all over you,” Beauty said. Her ribs ached. Or maybe it was her heart. Did she sound like a horrible, jealous person? “His hands were down your pants.”
“What’d you do, stand there and take notes?” Stevie said, smiling scornfully.
Beauty drew in a deep breath and told herself to stop, but could not keep from saying, “What are you doing with 88
him? I’m worried about you. Are you two—”
“Are we doing it ? Gasp,” Stevie mocked. “It’s none of your business, but I’ll tell you, anyway. No, dear sister, Miss Priss, who can’t say screwing , I am not doing it.”
Was she lying? Stevie often lied. “All right,” Beauty said. “I’m glad to hear that, because you’re too young to get going like that. I don’t want you to get into . . . into . . .
dangerous
Similar Books
