“Can I help you?” a woman asked.
I turned around and saw a slender woman with straight blond hair.
Curious if my assumption was correct, I said, “Actually I was wondering. Is this Healthy Living month or something?”
She looked confused. “Pardon me?”
I gestured to the window display. “I just noticed all the books on eating healthy and losing weight and just wondered if you were focusing on being healthy this month.”
Her delicate brow creased. “Well, no. We always focus on taking care of our bodies. Many of our customers are looking for those kinds of books. That’s all.” Her brow smoothed out as she smiled at me, clearly expecting me to know what she was talking about.
“Oh. Okay. Well thanks.”
“Is there anything I can help you find?”
“No. I was just browsing.”
“All right. Well if you need anything, I’ll be over there.”
I nodded, then turned and left the store. As I walked down the sidewalk I glanced down a side street. A sign caught my eye and I smiled. Library. I knew they would have computers that I could use. Feeling hopeful, I turned down the street and walked toward the library, a smile on my face.
I’ve always loved to read and had visited this library a couple of times since we’d moved here—I’d even gotten a library card—and as I walked through the automatic doors, the familiar quiet soothed me. Like I said, I’d only been there a couple of times, but when I walked in, the layout seemed wrong somehow. As I approached the librarian sitting at the information desk, I could have sworn that desk had been in a completely different place before. Ignoring the sudden apprehension in my mind, I moved toward the woman. Glancing to my right, I saw a row of computers. Several were being used, but there were plenty available.
“Excuse me,” I said, trying to project confidence I did not feel.
“Yes? How may I help you?” She had a friendly smile on her face.
“I’d like to use one of the computers.”
“Certainly. Do you have your library card with you?”
“Yeah, just a sec.” I dug through my backpack and pulled out my wallet, then handed her my library card. I watched as she scanned it in to her machine. A look of puzzlement crept onto her face and she scanned it again.
“That’s odd,” she muttered.
My heart began to pound and the feeling of disquiet grew. “Is something wrong?”
She looked at me and smiled. “Your card number seems to be invalid, but I can’t see anything wrong with it.” She shrugged. “It’s just not in the system.” Holding the card out to me, she added, “I’m sorry.”
Panic swept over me. “I don’t understand. I was just in here last week and it worked fine.” I paused, swallowing around the lump that had formed in my throat. “I really need to use the computer.”
“Do you have some other identification?”
I flipped through my wallet, searching for something to show her. Mom kept my learner’s permit with her—so I wouldn’t forget to take it when I drove with her, she said, although I think she just wanted to make sure I couldn’t drive with anyone else—and I hadn’t bothered getting my new student ID yet. Feeling my hopes slipping away, I felt tears push into my eyes. I kept my gaze away from the librarian’s, embarrassed to be such a baby, but she must have noticed anyway.
“A student ID perhaps?” she asked, kindness in her voice.
I shook my head, refusing to meet her eyes.
“What’s your name? Maybe I can just look you up.”
Blinking several times to push the tears back, I lifted my gaze. “Morgan. Morgan Campbell.”
I couldn’t see her screen, but she tapped on her keyboard with authority. After a moment she looked at me and shook her head. “I’m not finding you in here.”
I must have looked crestfallen because she offered to try looking me up by my address. I rattled off my address and held my breath as she typed that in.
“You said your last name is Campbell, right?”
I nodded, a sinking feeling beginning to swell within my gut.
“And what are the names of your parents?”
“Steven and Roxanne Campbell.”
She shook her head as she looked at me. “I’m sorry, Morgan. Those names are not tied to that address.”
Somehow I wasn’t surprised, but the disappointment still felt sharp, like when you think a cute boy is looking at you, but when you look at him he’s looking at the pretty girl who sits on the other side of you. “Is there any way I can use the computer? Just for a minute?”
“I’m truly sorry, Morgan, but we have very strict Internet access rules. Without a library card, I can’t let you use it.”
The way she said my name, like she was my friend even though she wasn’t willing to bend the rules for me, rubbed me the wrong way. Irritation at her, plus devastation that I still had no idea where my family had gone, made me feel less than nice. “Thanks for nothing,” I muttered. Her shocked expression made me feel a little better, though by the time I walked out the door I felt worse than when I had walked in.
When I walked out I remembered that I wanted to try and withdraw my money from the bank. I knew there was a small branch nearby and I headed in that direction. A few minutes later I pushed through the glass doors and walked up to a teller.
“How may I help you?” he asked.
“Hi. I’d like to withdraw some money from my account.”
“Sure. What’s your account number?”
I had no idea. “I can’t remember, but my name is Morgan Campbell. Can you look it up that way?”
“Do you have photo ID?”
My shoulders slumped. “No. My Mom has it.”
“Can you get it from her?”
I almost laughed at the ridiculous question. If I knew where my mom was, I wouldn’t need to withdraw any money. I’d just go home. Instead I shook my head.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Campbell. Without a photo ID, I can’t access your account.”
Well, crap, I thought. I just can’t win. “Thanks anyway.” Though what I really wanted to do was to tell him to hand over his cash and no one would get hurt. Somehow I restrained myself and walked out.
I headed back toward the main road until I was near the bookstore again, then began following the directions the waitress had given me to get to Rochelle Candee’s house. I consulted my notebook a few times as I followed her directions. Soon I saw the park in the distance. I hurried towards it, feeling like I was making progress in my quest to find my family.
Leafy trees ringed the perimeter. The sidewalk made a path next to the trees and I followed it along, watching the street names as I passed them. The park was a large oval and by the time I found Rochelle’s street I had gone almost all the way around. If I had known that, I would have gone the other direction to start with.
I crossed the road and stepped onto the corner of Rochelle’s street, but paused, wondering how I would explain my predicament without sounding crazy. It wasn’t like me to start random conversations with people I didn’t know very well, and the fear of how Rochelle would react almost made me turn around and go back. But back to where? The house where the woman threatened to call the police if she saw me again? The Come on Inn Diner where the waitress seemed friendly but on the inside she was judging me? Anyway, I was certain I didn’t have enough money to pay for one of the rooms.
I thought about the hut where’d I’d slept the night before and wondered if I should try to get back there. But how would I find it again? I’d walked for over an hour before I’d found the back of my house. And I hadn’t followed any kind of trail. Plus, it would most likely be dark before I found it. I doubted I would be able to walk back to town, catch a bus, get dropped off near my house (I couldn’t help it. In my mind it was my house.) then find my way back to the hut, all before dark. That was even assuming I could find my way to the hut, which was doubtful since I lacked any sense of direction.
S
ighing, I straightened the backpack on my shoulders, which were rather sore, and walked toward Rochelle’s house. Having memorized her street address, I studied the numbers on the houses as I went. Finally I came to her house. The white mailbox had CANDEE written in large black letters, so there was no mistaking that this was the right house.
Stopping at the base of the driveway, I noticed that the house was nothing to be intimidated by. It was just average; white with blue shutters, not too big, a couple of toys scattered in the yard. Somehow seeing all this made me feel better and I walked a little faster to the front door. I rang the doorbell and waited expectantly. Listening intently for the sound of footsteps, I waited a moment before knocking. There was nothing.
I had been so busy being worried about having to talk to Rochelle and needing to explain what had happened that I hadn’t even considered that she might not be home. My shoulders slumped as I considered what to do next.
Maybe she’s just at school, I thought.
I didn’t have a watch and Mom had taken away my cell phone, but I guessed it was around two o’clock. Maybe I should just wait for her to get home, I thought. I had nowhere else to go.
There were some chairs on the front porch. Setting my backpack on the ground, I rolled my head from side to side to try to loosen the knots that had formed on my shoulders, then sat on one of the chairs. It felt good to sit after the long walk I had been on.
So far Plan A, finding my parents’ new address in the phone book, and Plan B, talking to Rochelle, had been complete failures. Well maybe not complete failures. At least in the phone book I had found Rochelle’s address, although that didn’t seem to be panning out very well.
I frowned and stared out at the street. No one seemed to be around.
All the walking had made me hungry. I pulled out my leftover veggie burger and a bottle of water and finished them both off, trying to enjoy each bite as I didn’t know when I’d eat next. I tucked the empty water bottle in my backpack, planning to fill it at some point, then stared at the empty container from my veggie burger. I didn’t want to carry trash around in my backpack, so I decided to go around to the Candee’s backyard and see if there was a trash can where I could throw away the empty box.
Leaving my backpack on the porch, I walked past the garage door and to the gate. A string hung down, and I pulled it, hearing the satisfying click of the gate unlatching. I hesitated, wondering if they had a dog, but then figured it would have made itself known when I approached the house. Pushing the gate open, I immediately saw a large trash can. In a few steps I was in front of it. Tossing my trash inside, I turned back to go out the way I had come and that’s when I saw a smallish woman with a puff of gray hair, standing on the other side of the gate, her hands on her hips.
“Can I help you with something?” she asked.
I wondered if this was Rochelle’s grandmother or a nosy neighbor.
“Do you know when the Candee’s will be back?” I figured she wouldn’t be too suspicious of me if I knew the name of the people who lived in the house where I was helping myself to their backyard.
“Now why would I tell you that? How do I know you’re not just trying to rob the place?”
“How would I know who lives here then?”
“It’s written right there on the mailbox,” she said, hitching her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the street.
Duh. I had forgotten about that. I tried to think of a way to convince her I meant no harm. “I’m a friend of Rochelle’s. From school.”
The woman’s expression softened ever so slightly. “She’s a good girl, that one. She takes care of my cat when I’m away.”
“I really need to talk to her. Do you know when she’ll be home?”
“I’m afraid you’ll be waiting a long time. They went on vacation and won’t be back for another three days.”
“Oh.” I must have looked pretty downcast because the woman asked if everything was okay. Tempted to tell her my troubles, I even opened my mouth to speak, but then I decided not to say anything. “I’ll be fine. But thank you.”
“You take care of yourself now,” she said, before turning away and walking toward her house next door.
I walked out of the backyard, closing the gate behind me, then went to the front porch and grabbed my backpack. Staring at the front door, wishing someone was home who could help me, I felt despair enveloping me like mist on a foggy day.
Maybe I should go to the neighbor’s house, I thought. She seemed nice enough. Maybe she has a computer I could use.
Renewed hope pierced the cloud of despair like a beam of sunlight burning through the morning fog. Tossing my backpack over one shoulder, I stepped off the porch and marched towards the house next door. Not letting myself worry about what the woman would think of my wacky story, I pressed the doorbell and heard it pealing in the entry.
A moment later the woman opened the door, obviously surprised to see me standing there. “Yes?” she asked.
“Hi,” I said lamely.
She raised her eyebrows, obviously waiting for me to continue.
“I, well, you asked if everything is okay, and well, it’s not.”
“Oh, I see.”
I could feel my face crumpling and hot tears pushing their way into my eyes. She must have realized I was about to fall apart because she said, “Why don’t you come in and tell me about it.”
I just nodded, my chin wobbly, and followed her inside. She closed the door behind me. I bit my lower lip, trying to control my emotions.
She pointed to her living room. “Come sit down, why don’t you?”
I did as she suggested, taking off my backpack before letting the soft chair embrace me. The woman sat across from me in a chair that was a twin to mine.
“Now, why don’t you start by telling me your name.”
I had gotten myself under control and managed to say, “Morgan Campbell.”
“How old are you, Morgan?”
“I’m sixteen.”
She nodded. “My name is Patrice Donaldson. You may call me Mrs. Donaldson.”
“Okay.” Then I remembered my manners. “Thank you for inviting me in.”
“You said you’re a school mate of Rochelle’s.”
“Yes.”
“Where do you live?”
How was I going to explain this? “Well, I thought I lived on Meadow Lane.”
“What do you mean, you ‘thought’ you lived?”
I squirmed uneasily in my chair, trying to figure out what to say. “Well, you see, I lived there yesterday. But today someone else is living there.”
Her forehead creased with puzzlement as she listened. “I don’t understand.”
Who would? I certainly didn’t.
“Who do you live with?” she asked, obviously trying to piece this together.
“My family.”
“Your family,” she parroted. “And who is in your family?”
“You know. My mom and dad and my brothers and sister.”
Her eyebrows went up. “How many kids are there?”
“Four.”
“That’s a big family.”
“I guess.” It just seemed normal to me.
“And they just,” she held up her fists, then flung her fingers open. “Poof. Vanished.”
I nodded, knowing 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.
Gone (Parallel Trilogy, Book 1) Page 5
