Jakarta Missing Read Online Free PDF

universe.’”
    Dakar thought about that. Was it the same as when Mrs. Yoder said, “God loves you”? She had always tried to believe that God loved her, but sometimes it didn’t seem possible. Probably Melanie’s aunt had never seen some of the terrible things she’d seen—the man with his milky-white blind eyes reaching out as she went past, or the kids without arms or legs, begging on the sidewalks of the city. But Mrs. Yoder had seen those things, and she still believed that God loved people.
    â€œIs this the first time you’ve been away from Jakarta?” Melanie asked.
    â€œExcept the first year Jakarta went to boarding school.” As Dakar said the words, she suddenly thought about her one other true friend—a friend who, like Melanie, had looked at her with admiring eyes and let her make up almost all the games.
    Gingerpuff scratched at the door, and Melanie got up, saying, “Little Miss Can’t Decide if She Wants In or Out.”
    Her friend’s name was Wondemu, and they played together all the time that year. But she had missed Jakarta too much. So she’d left Maji and followed Jakarta to boarding school. And then she missed her parents and Wondemu and the water babies. At night, when she cried, one of her roommates would have to go get Jakarta. Jakarta would sit on the bed and sing “Barbry Allen” and comb Dakar’s hair.
    Gingerpuff jumped onto the bed and walked over to knead Dakar’s stomach. The cat’s eyes, too, seemed drawn to the smoke. All three of them, Dakar thought, were mesmerized by the smoke. She rolled the word mesmerized around in her mind, wondering if Jakarta, wherever she was, could really sense that they were thinking about her. Could candle smoke travel all the way to Kenya? What if Jakarta wasn’t even alive anymore? She scrambled up, brushing the cracker crumbs onto the floor.
    â€œDid you ever find out where the water babies went?” Melanie asked.
    It was almost dark outside Melanie’s window. What if Jakarta was in big trouble and needed her right this minute? Dakar hadn’t even told Mom and Dad where she was. “I’ve gotta go,” she said.
    â€œWait!” Melanie grabbed her arm.
    Dakar pulled away. “I can’t wait. I remembered that I need to get home.”
    â€œWell, just a second,” Melanie said. “Hey, I got this great idea.”
    Dakar hesitated. The doorknob was burning her hand.
    â€œI think we should have a sleep-over,” Melanie said quickly. “That’s sort of adventuresome. My grandma gave me a dress-up box, so we could act out one of your stories and everything. What do you think? Saturday?”
    â€œMaybe.” How could she have stayed away so long? “I’ll ask.”
    She could tell even before she pushed open the door that the house was too quiet. Her father was reading the newspaper on the couch. “Anything about …” The words leaped into her mouth, but saying them would make everything more real. Besides, why would Cottonwood, North Dakota, have any news about Kenya?
    Dad was frowning. Dakar tried to breathe. Were his eyes moving on the page? No. She was sure they weren’t. He wasn’t even reading. “Dad?”
    He dropped the newspaper into his lap. She ran and flopped down on the couch beside him, wishing she could jump onto the newspaper, the way she did when she was little. “Did we hear something?”
    â€œOh … no.” He rubbed her cheek. “I’m sorry I scared you. Actually, you scared me when you didn’t come home. You should call if you’re not going to come home.”
    Dakar glanced warily at the telephone. She didn’t like telephones. There weren’t any in Maji or at boarding school, and she never spent much time using the one in Kenya, where ordinary people for some reason never had their names in the phone book and the phone lines were often