Took by Mary Downing Hahn Page A

little girl her dolly.
    â€œOh, I wish I had me a dolly like this one,” the little girl says.
    Rocking the doll in her arms, she croons a little song. The tune is familiar, but Erica can’t make out the words.
    Later, when Erica goes home, she doesn’t remember what happened in the woods. It’s a secret, even from herself.
    After that, the old woman in her little-girl shape meets Erica in the woods every day. She tells her she lives with her sweet old auntie in a pretty little cabin on the tippity top of a hill. “She loves me ever so much,” the old woman says in the little-girl voice. “More’n anybody ever did.”
    â€œMore than your mommy and daddy?” Erica asks.
    â€œMy mama and daddy never loved me. They made me work hard at chores and beat me black-and-blue and made me sleep on the floor by the fireplace ’cause I was so bad.”
    â€œMy parents would never do that.”
    â€œOh yes, they would. Parents never love their little ones. They can’t wait to get rid of them. You’ll see. One day they’ll get fed up with you and start treating you bad, just the way mine did.”
    Erica stares at her, and the little girl smiles. Things are going well. Erica believes everything the girl tells her. “They already love your brother more than you.”
    â€œIt’s true,” Erica says. “They’ve always loved Daniel best.”
    â€œMy auntie’s keeping an eye on you,” the little girl says in her sweet little, false little voice. “She loves you even though you don’t know it yet, and she aims to rescue you and bring you to her cabin, where me and you will live like sisters.”
    The little girl pats Erica’s hand. “Come live with us afore they start into beating you and scolding you and making you sleep by the fire. Why, they could kill you dead one night.”
    Erica draws back a little. “You’re scaring me.”
    The little girl says, “There ain’t nothing to be scared of. Come away with me, and I’ll keep you safe.”
    â€œWill I have to go to school?”
    â€œSchool? No indeed. Old Auntie got no use for school. She’ll teach you all you need to know.”
    Erica nods her head. Yes, she’ll come with the little girl. And stay with her and Old Auntie. And never go to school again. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But soon.
    The old woman sees the brother watching from the woods. He can’t see her, but he knows someone is there. “I must go,” she whispers to Erica, and slips away into the woods.

Seven
    The next day, I left the house with my binoculars and my bird book, but instead of going to the woods, I hid in the tall weeds near the house and waited. It was a colder day and windy, but in a few minutes Erica ran out the back door, darted across the yard, and disappeared into the woods.
    She took the same path, turned off into the clearing, and sat on the fallen tree. Her bright blue scarf blew in the wind, and her red hair swirled.
    Hiding behind a tall maple, I watched her closely. Once in a while she whispered to the doll, but for the most part she neither moved nor spoke. She sat still and stared into the woods—waiting, I thought, but for what? Definitely a girl with secrets. No “maybes” about it.
    The wind yanked the last of the leaves from the trees and sent them flying through the air. They rustled and sighed and sank to the ground in brown and yellow heaps. Some settled in Erica’s hair and on her shoulders. Others landed on Little Erica.
    Nothing distracted my sister. Not the falling leaves. Not the squirrel chattering on a branch over her head. Not the crow cawing from the top of a dead tree. She sat so still, I thought she must be holding her breath.
    Suddenly she stood up and took a step or two toward the dead tree. She held the doll tightly and whispered to her.
    While I watched Erica, I glimpsed a shadow drifting