Gone (Parallel Trilogy, Book 1)

by Christine Kersey

  Gone

  Parallel Trilogy, Book 1

  Christine Kersey

  Also by Christine Kersey

  Suspicions

  No Way Out

  He Loves Me Not (Lily’s Story, Book 1)

  Don’t Look Back (Lily’s Story, Book 2)

  Over You

  Imprisoned (Parallel Trilogy, Book 2)

  If you would like to be notified when a new book by Christine Kersey comes out, click on this link to go to Christine’s blog, then enter your email address in the top right corner to follow Christine’s blog.

  Book Description

  What if everything you knew was suddenly gone?

  Sixteen-year-old Morgan Campbell runs away from home and when she returns the next day her world is turned upside-down. Not only is her family missing, but another family is living in her house and claims to have lived there for weeks. As Morgan desperately works to figure out what has happened, she finds society has become obsessed with weight in a way she has never seen before. The more she searches for answers, the more she begins to wonder if she has somehow ended up in another world—a world she doesn’t want to be a part of.

  Can she survive in this world until she can get home?

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter One

  The day that marked a seismic shift in my life started out so normal. I went to school—a new high school, I might add, one where I had yet to make any real friends—and when I had gotten home I’d actually finished my homework right away. Well most of it. I guess I might have gotten a little distracted looking online at the new cell phone I wanted. Then Mom came into the living room and asked me what I was doing. That’s when the trouble began.

  In my nicest, sweetest voice I asked her if I could get the cell phone.

  “No, Morgan.”

  There was no hint of possibility in her voice, but that didn’t stop me from trying.

  “But, Mom, my phone randomly reboots all the time. Even when I’m in the middle of a call.” Not that I made that many calls, but that was beside the point.

  She just stared down at me, daring me to go on. I’ve never been one to turn down a dare, so on I went. “And there’s this crack in the screen that makes it hard to see anything.” I held up my phone to show her the crack, but she was unimpressed.

  Her lips compressed into a straight line as she listened. Finally she said, “It’s too expensive.”

  Somehow I knew she’d say that and I was ready. “I can pay for it. I have enough money.”

  “You have other things you need to be saving for. Like college.”

  I sighed dramatically. “I earned my money. I should be able to spend it how I want.” I paused, considering my next words, then decided to go for it. “I don’t tell you and Dad how to spend your money. What right do you have to tell me how to spend mine?”

  Her face flushed and I knew I’d gone too far.

  She held out her hand. “It sounds like you need a little break from cell phones. Completely.” Her eyes dared me to object.

  Though I wasn’t one to turn down a dare, I also knew when it was time to back down. I handed her my phone and turned away from her to stare at the computer screen.

  I could feel her eyes boring into me and after a moment of silence, she said, “Morgan, turn off the computer and go to your room. You’re grounded until further notice.”

  I spun around and gaped at her, truly shocked. “What?” I couldn’t believe she was grounding me, a sixteen-year-old girl. I couldn’t recall the last time I had been grounded.

  She stared at me, her arms crossed and a grim look on her face. “I won’t have you talking to me that way. You need to learn to treat me with respect.”

  Swallowing a response that I knew would only get me into deeper trouble, I stood, my gaze throwing daggers at her. She stared right back, making it clear that she was the one in charge. Her complete confidence in her authority over me and over my life filled me with fury. Even so, I couldn’t help myself; I looked away first, confirming her control over everything in my life.

  Then, even though I knew I would be acting like a two-year-old, I stomped out of the room and up the stairs. My thirteen-year-old sister, Amy, was coming down the stairs and I almost ran in to her.

  “Watch it,” I muttered to her.

  She rolled her eyes at me. “You watch it, Morgan.”

  I gave her a murderous glare, then continued up. When I reached my bedroom I sank onto my bed, fuming at the unfairness of it all. Stewing in my anger, I stared at the blank wall, replaying my interaction with Mom and imagined saying something clever to her that would wipe that look of sureness off of her face. But then she probably would have made my punishment worse, although I didn’t know what other punishment she could give me to make me suffer more. My life already sucked big time.

  I mentally listed all of my woes: new town, new school, no friends, no boys who liked me, maybe needed to lose a few pounds, not much money (though if I raided my savings account I would have enough to buy that new phone). Not being a total pessimist, I considered the good things in my life but the only thing I came up with was that I was doing ok in school.

  I frowned. My life really did bite.

  As I pondered the exact level of suckiness into which my life fell, I could hear my younger brothers running around outside making their usual racket. I went to the window and looked into the backyard. As I watched them kick a ball back and forth, I frowned, jealous that they had each other to play with when I had no one. As they ran around, their breath came out in frosty clouds and I wondered how long Mom would let them play outside in the cold November air.

  Still feeling sorry for myself, my thoughts shifted to the other girls at school and how they all seemed to be perfectly happy and to have lots of friends. Why did I have such a hard time making friends? We’d been here over three months and I still didn’t have anyone I’d call a close friend. Why did we have to move here anyway? When the prospect of moving here for a job opportunity for Dad had come up during the summer, I had made it clear that I didn’t want to move. But did they listen to me? Of course not. They never listened to me. My opinion didn’t count for anything.

  The more I thought about how everything was going wrong in my life, the more I knew it was because we had moved here, which was because my parents had refused to listen to me. And the more I thought about the unfairness with which my parents treated me, the more I wanted to leave. I was sixteen, practically an adult. How could they ground me? Especially considering that they were the cause of everything.

  Turning away from the window, I stared at my room. My gaze stopped on my backpack, leaning against my desk.

  I could do it, I thought. Grab a few things and run away. Anyplace would be better than here. Anyplace. They p
robably wouldn’t even miss me. The thought made me sad, but then I thought maybe they’d appreciate me more if I disappeared. The idea brightened my mood.

  “Zac. Brandon,” Mom called out to my brothers from downstairs. “You need to come inside and finish your homework.”

  I turned back to the window and watched my younger brothers walk toward the house, then disappear from view. I couldn’t see them, but I could hear them. They were always in motion—I guess most eight and ten year olds are—but it still irritated me.

  I walked away from the window and toward my desk, hesitating as I stared at my backpack. Did I really have it in me to run away? Where would I go?

  “Morgan?” Mom called out as she knocked on my door.

  I spun away from my desk and toward the door, feeling like I’d been caught doing something. “What?”

  Mom walked in and glanced at me before looking at the clothes strewn around the room. She sighed, then met my defiant glare. “I expect an apology for your earlier behavior.” She frowned before continuing. “And I expect this room to be picked up before you come down for dinner.”

  I was about to protest, but she raised one eyebrow and I knew it would be pointless. Instead I said nothing as she left the room. I closed the door behind her, forcing myself not to slam it, fresh fury welling up inside me like a geyser before it erupts. “That’s it,” I muttered. “I’m out of here.” Picking up the backpack, I shoved in my wallet, the three granola bars I had stashed in my desk earlier, then grabbed my water bottle. I slung the backpack over my shoulder and cracked open my door. I could hear the boys talking downstairs. It sounded like they were in the kitchen, which was where they usually did their homework. If Mom was in there too, I could sneak down the stairs and out the front door without them seeing me.

  The only wild card was Amy. I had no idea where she was. She’d been on her way downstairs when I’d come up, but who knew where she would be now. I really didn’t want her to know what I was doing. She would be more than happy to tell Mom my plans and get me in trouble before I ever got out the door.

  I peeked into the hallway and didn’t see Amy, and her bedroom door was closed. I tiptoed to it and pressed my ear against the white wood, but all was silent. Feeling hopeful, I went into the bathroom and filled my water bottle from the sink faucet. I closed the lid and put the bottle in the backpack with my other things. Next, I stopped at the linen closet and looked inside to see if there was anything in there that I could use. Quickly scanning the shelves, at first I didn’t see anything that would be valuable, but then a silver rectangle caught my eye. I picked it up and read the packaging.

  “Space blanket,” I whispered. “That might come in handy.” I jammed it into the backpack, then turned toward the stairs.

  “Where are you going?”

  I spun around and saw Amy standing next to her open door, her arms folded across her chest, a copy of Romeo and Juliet in one hand.

  “None of your business,” I said without thinking, venom thick in my voice. As soon as the words left my mouth I knew it was a mistake.

  “Well, I guess I can just ask Mom.”

  Crap. If Mom finds out I’m trying to go somewhere then I’ll get in even more trouble. “Why do you care, Amy?”

  “I don’t. But I still want to know.”

  I glanced toward the stairs then leaned towards her, an idea forming. “Can you keep a secret?” I was practically whispering.

  Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. I never told her my secrets. “Yeah?”

  “This is important, Amy. Can I trust you? Really?”

  She uncrossed her arms and took a step toward me. “I can keep a secret, you know.”

  I wondered if she would actually be able to keep this to herself. “Okay. I’m trusting you.”

  “Okay.”

  I glanced in the direction of the stairs one more time, then looked back at her. “I’m supposed to be grounded.”

  “Yeah,” she said, smirking. “I know.”

  “Well, there’s this boy.”

  Her eyebrows shot up and she suddenly looked very interested. “Is he cute?”

  “Very.”

  “And?”

  “Well, he finally asked me out and we were supposed to go out tonight, but then Mom got mad at me and now I’m grounded.” I blinked several times and put a look of sadness on my face. “If I don’t go, he’s going to think I’m not interested and I don’t think I’ll get another chance.” I watched several emotions play across Amy’s face, but I was counting on her die-hard sense of romance to win out.

  “Go, Morgan. You have to go.”

  I knew it, I thought, almost laughing. “And you won’t tell Mom? Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “Thank you, Amy. You’re the best.”

  She smiled, obviously pleased, and I turned to go.

  “Wait, Morgan.”

  I stopped and turned back, a questioning look on my face.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Uh.” I glanced at the book in her hand. “William.”

  “William,” she said, a dreamy look on her face.

  I watched as she went back into her room, then I went to the top of the stairs and listened. I heard Mom’s voice coming from the kitchen and I knew I was in the clear. I made my way down the stairs, making sure to avoid the creaky spots. When I reached the front door I stopped, briefly considering what I was about to do. Did I really want to run away? I pictured Mom’s face when she’d told me I was grounded. The complete assurance she seemed to feel that I would just go along with the program. And then her demand that I apologize for my behavior.

  Well wouldn’t she be surprised that I had followed my own plan.

  But how lame was I that I had to pretend I had a boyfriend so I could run away? I wished we’d never moved here. I had friends at my last school, but here I didn’t really know anyone.

  My anger at Mom reignited. It was her fault we moved here in the first place and now my life was miserable. Shaking my head in frustration, I opened the door. A gust of cold air blew in, snapping me back to reality. I hesitated, but then decided I wasn’t going to let a little cold air keep me from doing what I wanted. I had to prove to Mom that I was in charge of my own destiny—not her.

  I listened for Mom’s voice and could hear her talking to my brothers in the kitchen. I shrugged off my backpack, opened the hall closet, and took out my jacket. I quickly put it on then tossed the backpack onto my shoulders and walked outside, closing the door behind me.

  I hurried away from the porch and toward the dark green picket fence that surrounded our oversized front yard. My breath formed a white cloud and I realized the air was colder than I had expected. I desperately hoped my gloves were in my backpack. Not wanting to stop to check until I was out of sight of the house, I blew warm breath on my hands and rubbed them together.

  “Whoa,” I cried out as I nearly tripped on a furry bundle that had flung itself against my legs. “No Goldie, you can’t come with me.” The yellow lab danced around me. “I’m sorry, but no dogs allowed this time.”

  Reaching the gate that led out of the yard and onto the road, I pushed Goldie aside with my foot and squeezed out of the gate without letting the dog escape. Quickly glancing over my shoulder to see if Mom was looking out the window, I smiled. No one seemed to have noticed my departure. Not yet anyway. Just wait until later when they realized I was gone. And since Mom took away my cell phone, they wouldn’t even be able to call me. And when Amy confessed that I was off with some boy, they would be frantic with worry.

  That would teach them.

  I glanced toward the garage, tempted to take the car, but knew I would only get into deeper trouble if I were to take it. Mom hadn’t let me get my license yet—another way she was holding me back—so driving with only a permit, not to mention grand theft auto, would be a mistake. Plus I’d have to go back into the house to get the key. I kept on walking.

  Once around the bend that hid my hous
e from the main road, I turned onto a foot path that led into the woods surrounding my house. The trees swayed gently in the cold breeze. I stopped and took off the backpack. Unzipping it, I dug around until I found the gloves stuffed in the bottom. Pleased that I had actually put them in my backpack, I knew the matching knit cap and scarf were in there too. “Yes,” I said in triumph as I found them. After tugging on the gloves, hat and scarf, I hauled the backpack over my shoulders.

  “That’s much better.” My breath came out in little puffs as I spoke. Noticing the sun beginning to dip toward the mountain, I knew I didn’t have a lot of time before the night-time freeze set in. Not one to pay much attention to the news, I didn’t know the weather forecast, but the gray clouds didn’t bode well for someone who was going to be outside. And I didn’t know yet where I would spend the night. I figured I had another hour before dark and decided to make the most of it. I pulled my knit cap lower over my ears and headed down the foot path, not sure where I wanted to go.

  In the short time we’d lived in our house I’d spent very little time exploring these woods, so it was with some trepidation that I ventured farther down the path. As I walked, I briefly considered turning around and going out to the main road and hitching a ride to town, but then decided I didn’t want to go quite that far from home just yet. Besides, what would I do once I reached town?

  Best just to take my chances near home, I thought. That would give me more options. Maybe I’ll just stay away for a few hours. Give my parents a little scare. That will make them appreciate me.

  Visualizing the look on Mom’s face when she discovered my disappearance brought a small smile. But when I pictured Dad’s worried expression, my smile faded. Dad wasn’t the mean one—it was just Mom who seemed to pick on me. Dad had always been the nice one. He usually gave me my way. It was Mom who kept me from getting what I wanted.

  Deep in thought, at first I didn’t hear the sound of someone approaching. Then I heard someone whistling a tune, as well as what 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?