The Rules for Disappearing by Unknown Read Free Book Online Page A

long for it to progress to something else. And then what? Ethan would look for me one day at school, and there would be no trace of me left. I lost myself for a few minutes but it’s not too late to pull back.
    He slides his hat off and back on again and studies me. Leaning over the counter, he grabs a cardboard pizza box from under the counter and yells, “Bye, Aunt Pearl! See ya later.”
    Pearl sticks her head out of the kitchen. “You going, already?
    Well, bye hon.” Pearl nods toward me. “Meg, you can go on and go, too. You weren’t planning on working tonight, I can handle it from S—
    here. Be back at four tomorrow.”
    N—
    I grab my hoodie and go-bag from behind the counter and head
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    out the door. It opens and closes behind me but I don’t turn back—
    just keep walking. A moment later, a truck comes up beside me and the window rolls down.
    “Are you walking home?”
    I don’t answer.
    “It’s too cold to walk.”
    No shit. “I’m fine. It’s not far.” I pick up my pace. A loud noise from the bushes almost brings me to the ground. My heart’s in my throat until I see a little squirrel dart from the shrubbery. Dad’s paranoia is definitely rubbing off on me.
    “Meg, let me take you home.”
    God, I probably look like an idiot. The fumes from his exhaust fill the air around me. There are still two and a half blocks to go, and I’m freezing. The wind is whipping right through my hoodie and my teeth are chattering. I jump in his truck and point up the road. “I live in one of the little cottages up there.”
    We pull into the driveway and he leans back in his seat. My
    playful attitude turned considerably frosty and I’m sure he’s trying to figure out why. I jump out of the truck before he can say anything else and don’t look back. I don’t hear the truck drive away until I shut the front door.
    —S
    —N
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    RULES FOR DISAPPEARING
    BY WITNESS PROTECTION PRISONER #18A7R04M:
    Only use public transportation. It’s the one true way to look completely uninteresting. That is, unless, you have a hideous wood-paneled station wagon. That’ll work, too.
    Iwake up in a cold sweat. The room is dark but I can make out
    Teeny’s sleeping form in the twin bed next to me. My T-shirt is wet and my hair is plastered to my head. I can’t catch my breath. It was a dream , I repeat over and over in my head. It’s the same dream that has haunted me for months where I’m stuck in this room, and I’m scared to death. There are people in the room, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. It’s been weeks since I’ve had this dream, but that doesn’t make it any better when it does show up.
    My legs get tangled in the sheets and I end up falling out of the bed. I grab the journal from my bag and start to write.
    Flashing lights. I’m trapped. I’m scared. I can’t
    breathe. It’s like I’m drowning.
    I’m hoping this will help me make some sense out of the night-
    S—
    mares but all I can pull out of them are the flashing lights and the N—
    feeling of being trapped, which isn’t surprising since that’s exactly 44
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    what Witness Protection feels like. As soon as I wake up, the images evaporate.
    My throat’s on fire. I run to the kitchen for some water and
    drink a glassful in seconds. It isn’t until I fill the glass for the second time that a movement catches my attention.
    The glass slips and shatters on the floor. Mom is hunched
    over the kitchen table. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Her words are slurred.
    “Mom, what are you doing up?” I glance at the clock on the
    oven. “It’s two in the morning.” Tiptoeing around the shards of glass, I get the broom and dust pan from the small closet.
    “Can’t sleep. Miss my bed