Where Did My Family Go? by Mara Wil;

Author:Mara, Wil;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Enslow Publishing, LLC
Published: 2019-11-08T00:00:00+00:00

8

Michael ran out of the bathroom screaming his head off. He didn’t go back to his room, but toward the kitchen.

When he got there, however, he saw that it wasn’t the kitchen anymore. It was the living room. His dad’s easy chair was gone. So was the little table that had always stood next to it. There were two big couches instead of one. The light-brown carpet had become a light-gold carpet. And the front door to the house was on the left side of the big window rather than the right.

“Danny, what are you screaming about?” someone asked from upstairs.

Michael froze. Who is THAT? And who’s Dann—no, don’t tell me…you’ve got to be kidding…

A man came thumping down the steps. He had broad shoulders and light hair. Reading glasses were perched on the end of his nose. And he was carrying papers in one hand and a pen in the other.

“I’m trying to pay some bills, sporto,” he said. “Can you keep it down a little?”

Michael had never seen this person in his life.

“I…I’m sorry. I’ll try to be—wait, who are you?”

The man smiled and sniffed a little laugh through his nose.

“Good one, Danny. It’s nice to know we have a comedian in the family.”

“I’m serious,” Michael said, trying to sound tough but falling way short. “I don’t know who you are. Or why you’re in my house.”

One of the man’s eyebrows went up. “Dan,” he said flatly. “I really do have to pay these bills. If I don’t, we won’t have any water, gas, or electricity. So unless you’re trying to—”

“Phillip, what’s going on?” asked a new voice.

Michael spun around and found another stranger standing there. She had just walked in the room. She was short, with strawberry-blond hair that fell straight down the sides of her face.

“I’m not sure, Kate,” the man on the steps replied. “Either our son here is having a complete mental breakdown. Or, more likely, he’s in one of his goofy moods again.”

The woman walked over until she was about two feet away. She looked at Michael curiously.

“Are you feeling all right, Danny?”

“My name isn’t Danny,” he said, his eyes wild with fear. “It isn’t.”

The man shook his head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” he said. Then he turned and headed back upstairs. “But if you figure it out, let me know.”

The woman stepped closer. Then she reached up toward Michael’s face.

He jerked back. “What are you doing?”

“I just want to feel your forehead.”

Michael didn’t want her to do it, but he let her. She did it gently, just like a mother would. And her hand was warm, solid. A real hand.

So if this is a dream, he thought, it’s the most detailed dream I’ve ever had.

“You feel a little warm,” she said. “How’s your stomach?”

“My stomach’s fine,” he replied. This wasn’t even close to the truth. His stomach felt like it was being squeezed by a giant hand.

But he wasn’t about to tell this person anything.

“I’m making roast chicken,” she said.

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