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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.