All That's Missing by Sarah Sullivan Read Free Book Online Page A

the boy said.
    â€œHi,” Arlo said.
    â€œThis is Burton,” Mr. Whitehair said. “Burton, meet Arlo. He’s going to be staying with us tonight while his grandfather’s in the hospital.”
    â€œI thought we didn’t have any rooms left,” the boy said.
    Mr. Whitehair cleared his throat. “Well, technically speaking, that’s true. But there’s an extra bed in O’Dell’s room.”
    The boy’s eyes widened to the size of walnuts. “Not Purvis,” he said.
    â€œJust for tonight,” the man said. Then he raised an eyebrow. “Up kind of late, aren’t you?” he asked the boy.
    Burton shivered. “Forgot to brush my teeth,” he said.
    Arlo’s stomach pumped acid into his throat. Why exactly was it that Miss Hasslebarger thought Arlo was safer here than in his own home? He followed Mr. Whitehair to the first room on the right. Mr. Whitehair knocked and then opened the door.
    â€œGlad you weren’t asleep yet,” he said to the refrigerator-shaped boy playing video games on his bed. “This is Arlo. He going to be with us for tonight.”
    Purvis narrowed his eyes. “You’re not thinking of putting him in here, are you?”
    Mr. Whitehair cleared his throat. “I’m sure you’ll make the best of it.”
    Purvis got a nasty grin on his face.
    â€œRight, then,” Mr. Whitehair said after a pause. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” He paused at the door. “I know you’ll do your best to stay out of Arlo’s way, won’t you, Purvis?”
    â€œYeah, right. ’Course I will,” Purvis said. He crossed his arms over his chest.
    Arlo didn’t say a word. He waited until Mr. Whitehair had gone, feeling all hope of survival vanish with him.
    â€œI told Whitehair not to put anybody in here,” Purvis said. “I get a single room. Always. That’s the rule. So what do they do? Stick some dork in here. Like I’m not going to notice.”
    Arlo shrugged. “Sorry,” he said.
    Purvis rolled onto his side and glared at Arlo. “Make that,
Sorry, sir, Mr. O’Dell, sir.
Got it?”
    Arlo nodded. He stepped gingerly across the rug and took a seat on the empty bed, keeping his eyes trained on Purvis the whole time. On closer inspection, he noticed a line of red hatch marks where Purvis had had stitches over his left eyebrow. He thought about stories he’d heard about kids getting put in children’s shelters, about things that happened to them in their own homes.
    â€œI’ll be leaving in the morning,” Arlo said. “If you want, I could sleep in the hall.”
    â€œNah. Whitehair don’t let nobody sleep outside their rooms.”
    Purvis stood and walked to the drawers built into the wall. Arlo couldn’t help noticing his limp. He was taking something out of one of the drawers when he caught Arlo staring at him.
    â€œWhat are you looking at?” he said.
    â€œNothing,” Arlo said.
    Purvis lunged toward Arlo’s bed, taking a swing with his right arm. Arlo rolled out of his way and fell off the bed. Purvis started laughing.
    â€œYou’re a real wimp, aren’t you, Fido?”
    â€œArlo.”
    â€œYeah. Right. Whatever. What a loser.”
    All he had to do was survive the night. Arlo kept repeating that to himself. But it didn’t help. If he’d had any doubts, he was certain now.
He wasn’t staying.
Period.
But where was he supposed to go? The shelter was at least three miles from town. And the only road was a narrow two-lane with thick woods on either side, so there was no way to walk on it without being spotted. And there was a fence bordering the woods, so you couldn’t duck into them and hide.
    Arlo walked down the hall to the bathroom to think. When he came back out, Purvis had locked the door to his room. In a way it was a relief. Now Arlo had an excuse. He was