Gone (Parallel Trilogy, Book 1) Read Free

sounded like a dog. Hurrying off the path, I nearly stumbled over a fallen tree branch. I knew most people didn’t put their dogs on leashes when they took them for a walk in these woods and I was afraid the dog would bring his owner right to me. I didn’t want anyone to find me. What good would it do to run away if someone knew where to find me?
    I tried to walk quickly into the woods without making too much noise, but then I heard the dog begin to bark. Thick underbrush slowed me down, and I had to keep stepping over fallen branches.
    “What is it, Max?” The man called out to his dog.
    Stepping behind a wide tree, I carefully peered around to see what the man was going to do about his dog, which had either picked up my scent or heard me tromping through the underbrush. About a hundred feet from where I hid, the dog barked wildly and pranced around in place, clearly wanting permission to go after his find. With the one eye I allowed to be exposed, I saw that the dog was a German Sheppard. Gasping in fear that I would be attacked, I flattened myself against the tree trunk and tried to slow my breathing.
    “Max. Calm down, boy. It’s probably just a squirrel. We don’t have time to chase squirrels today. It’s getting near dark and we need to get back.”
    The dog continued barking, ignoring his owner.
    Daring to peek again, I turned my head ever so slightly so I could see around the trunk. Apparently the dog saw me because his barking became more agitated and he took several steps toward me.
    “Come!” the man said.
    When I heard the man and his dog leaving, relief flooded me. Not wanting to run into them again, or anyone else for that matter, I decided to avoid the footpath and to venture farther into the woods. Even though my gut told me it was probably not the best idea, I decided to do it anyway.
    Feeling clever, I decided to mark my path so I could find my way back when I was ready to come home. I took off my backpack and in a side pocket I pulled out my favorite red lipstick. Frowning, I put it back in, then rummaged around some more and found a fat purple marker.
    “Nice.” I’d forgotten that was in there, left over from a school project I had recently done. My English teacher had us create a collage of pictures expressing our interests. I had hunted through Mom’s magazines for just the right pictures. Finally I had found the ones I wanted: a picture of a cute boy, the latest cell phone (of course), a dog that looked similar to mine, a woman sleeping on a comfortable mattress (because I like to sleep), French fries, a certain men’s cologne that I loved to smell on boys, and a few random pictures of make-up to fill in the blank spots. Then right before I’d left for school I’d remembered that I was supposed to write a short poem using my favorite color pen and attach it to the poster board.
    I had tossed the pen in my backpack and written the poem before class. The poem wasn’t half bad for being done in such a hurry, although I admit it was a little challenging to write it with such a fat pen. Oh well, you can’t have everything.
    Now I took the lid off the pen and smiled. I backed up a few steps to make sure I could see the path from where I stood and then dragged the pen across the smooth tree trunk, leaving a wide purple streak that I would be able to see when I came back, but no one on the path would be able to see.
    Pleased with my resourcefulness, I continued into the woods another twenty feet or so and made a mark on another tree. I kept going like this, marking trees as often as necessary, until I had gone quite a ways into the woods. After about half an hour I stopped, noticing how dark it was getting. And then I realized that I had been so focused on marking the trees that I hadn’t really paid attention to where I was going.
    The chill in the air began to feel like small bugs biting my cheeks and I wondered if it was possible for me to freeze to death. Suddenly home sounded like a