Read Online Gone (Parallel Trilogy, Book 1) by Christine Kersey - Free Book Online
Authors: Christine Kersey
Ads: Link
how unbelievable my story sounded.
When she spoke next, she didn’t make eye contact with me. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know.”
She leaned forward in her chair squinted at me. “So you just woke up this morning and your family was gone and some other family was living in your house.”
“Well there’s a little more to it than that.”
She leaned back in her chair, skepticism written all over her face. “Uh huh.”
“Well, you see, last night I ran away.”
Her eyes opened wider.
“I know it was stupid and I shouldn’t have done it.” Why was I telling her this? She didn’t know me and she didn’t care. “But when I got home this morning, my family was gone.”
Mrs. Donaldson stared at me, evidently wondering what to make of my story.
“Look, I won’t bother you any longer,” I said. “But do you have a computer I could use? You know, to look up my family?”
Several emotions played across her face before she spoke. “I can’t help you. I don’t have a computer.”
“Oh.”
“Can I get you something to drink?” She pushed herself out of her chair and stood.
“Okay, sure.” I barely paid attention as she left the living room, but a moment later I faintly heard the sound of someone talking. Curious, I crept out of the living room and into a hallway. The voice became slightly louder as I silently made my way forward. As I moved down the hall I glanced into a neighboring room and saw a desk with a large computer monitor on it.
The woman had lied to me, but why?
I took a few more steps but stopped when I heard Mrs. Donaldson’s voice more clearly. She was talking softly, but I was able to make out some of what she was saying.
“Skulking about . . . wild story . . . maybe escaped . . . yes, a few pounds . . .”
What? What was she talking about? Escaped from where? Did she say something about pounds? What did that mean? Who was she talking to? Could it be the police?
Alarm bells rang in my head and I knew I had to get out of there. Now.
Hurrying back to the living room, I grabbed my backpack and slipped out the front door, then walked quickly down the street. Having nowhere else to go, I made my way back to the park and found a bench to sit on.
Now what was I going to do? No one would believe my “wild story”, as Mrs. Donaldson had told someone on the phone. Who could blame them? She probably thought I was going to rob her or something.
Feeling completely discouraged and hopeless, I slumped on the bench, not knowing what to do. My family had moved away, apparently not caring what happened to me, and now I was homeless and essentially an orphan. Fat tears welled up in my eyes and slid down my cheeks. I felt completely alone. I was completely alone.
I allowed myself to have a good cry, but after a while I was able to get my emotions under control. I wiped my face with the heels of my hands and stared into the distance, not thinking about anything in particular. I could see a few people shooting hoops on one of the basketball courts and others pushing children on swings in a play area, but no one was near me.
Worn out, I took my jacket out of my backpack and bunched it up into a make-shift pillow, then I curled up on the bench and rested my head on my jacket. I wrapped my arms around my backpack, holding it against my stomach, then closed my eyes.
A while later I woke abruptly to the feeling of someone trying to tug my backpack out of my arms. I opened my eyes and saw two boys, about twelve years old, yanking my backpack out of my arms. In my surprise, I loosened my grip and they fell backward, my backpack clutched in their arms.
“Hey,” I yelled. “That’s mine!”
“Not anymore,” one of them yelled as they scrambled to their feet and dashed away.
I leapt off the bench and chased them, but they were fast and soon outdistanced me. I’d always hated running and this was no exception. My lungs burned from my sprint and when I stopped, I bent over and placed
When she spoke next, she didn’t make eye contact with me. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know.”
She leaned forward in her chair squinted at me. “So you just woke up this morning and your family was gone and some other family was living in your house.”
“Well there’s a little more to it than that.”
She leaned back in her chair, skepticism written all over her face. “Uh huh.”
“Well, you see, last night I ran away.”
Her eyes opened wider.
“I know it was stupid and I shouldn’t have done it.” Why was I telling her this? She didn’t know me and she didn’t care. “But when I got home this morning, my family was gone.”
Mrs. Donaldson stared at me, evidently wondering what to make of my story.
“Look, I won’t bother you any longer,” I said. “But do you have a computer I could use? You know, to look up my family?”
Several emotions played across her face before she spoke. “I can’t help you. I don’t have a computer.”
“Oh.”
“Can I get you something to drink?” She pushed herself out of her chair and stood.
“Okay, sure.” I barely paid attention as she left the living room, but a moment later I faintly heard the sound of someone talking. Curious, I crept out of the living room and into a hallway. The voice became slightly louder as I silently made my way forward. As I moved down the hall I glanced into a neighboring room and saw a desk with a large computer monitor on it.
The woman had lied to me, but why?
I took a few more steps but stopped when I heard Mrs. Donaldson’s voice more clearly. She was talking softly, but I was able to make out some of what she was saying.
“Skulking about . . . wild story . . . maybe escaped . . . yes, a few pounds . . .”
What? What was she talking about? Escaped from where? Did she say something about pounds? What did that mean? Who was she talking to? Could it be the police?
Alarm bells rang in my head and I knew I had to get out of there. Now.
Hurrying back to the living room, I grabbed my backpack and slipped out the front door, then walked quickly down the street. Having nowhere else to go, I made my way back to the park and found a bench to sit on.
Now what was I going to do? No one would believe my “wild story”, as Mrs. Donaldson had told someone on the phone. Who could blame them? She probably thought I was going to rob her or something.
Feeling completely discouraged and hopeless, I slumped on the bench, not knowing what to do. My family had moved away, apparently not caring what happened to me, and now I was homeless and essentially an orphan. Fat tears welled up in my eyes and slid down my cheeks. I felt completely alone. I was completely alone.
I allowed myself to have a good cry, but after a while I was able to get my emotions under control. I wiped my face with the heels of my hands and stared into the distance, not thinking about anything in particular. I could see a few people shooting hoops on one of the basketball courts and others pushing children on swings in a play area, but no one was near me.
Worn out, I took my jacket out of my backpack and bunched it up into a make-shift pillow, then I curled up on the bench and rested my head on my jacket. I wrapped my arms around my backpack, holding it against my stomach, then closed my eyes.
A while later I woke abruptly to the feeling of someone trying to tug my backpack out of my arms. I opened my eyes and saw two boys, about twelve years old, yanking my backpack out of my arms. In my surprise, I loosened my grip and they fell backward, my backpack clutched in their arms.
“Hey,” I yelled. “That’s mine!”
“Not anymore,” one of them yelled as they scrambled to their feet and dashed away.
I leapt off the bench and chased them, but they were fast and soon outdistanced me. I’d always hated running and this was no exception. My lungs burned from my sprint and when I stopped, I bent over and placed
Similar Books
