her defiant face. "You stole those dolls and the crib
from my sister. And because you did Carrie is at this
very moment in extreme danger!" I knew it. I felt it.
Carrie needed help and fast. "Where is my sister?" I
raged.
I stared hard at that red-haired girl named Sissy,
knowing she had the answer to where Carrie was but
knowing she'd never tell me. It was in her eyes, her
mean, spiteful eyes. It was then that Lacy St. John
spoke up and told us what they'd done to Carrie the
night before.
Oh, God! There was no place in the world more
terrifying to Carrie than a roof--any roof! I went reeling back into the past, when Chris and I had tried to take the twins out on the roof of Foxworth Hall so we could hold them in the sunlight and keep them in the fresh air so they'd grow. And like children out of
their minds from fright they'd screamed and kicked. I squeezed my eyelids very tight, concentrating
fully on Carrie, where, where, where? And behind my
eyes I saw her crouched in a dark corner in what
seemed a canyon rising tall on either side of
her. "I want to look in the attic myself," I said to
Miss Dewhurst, and she quickly said they'd already
thoroughly searched the attic and called and called
Carrie's name. But they didn't know Carrie like I did.
They didn't know my small sister could go off to a
never- never land where speech didn't exist, not when
she was in shock.
Up the attic stairs all the teachers, Chris, Paul
and I climbed. It was so much like it used to be, a
huge, dim and dusty place. But not full of old furniture
covered with dusty gray sheets or remnants of the past.
Up here were only stacks upon stacks of heavy
wooden crates.