Two-Fifty Tuesdays #12

Excerpts of my writing consisting of 250 words. No more. No less. 

The following passage was taken from Chapter Six of my novel, Guinea Pig Maverick. 

(Google.images)

     “9635?” I clarify.

     “53,” she corrects, hazel eyes still glued to those screens. I push the numbers in the correct sequence. The voice tells me I’m free to make a call.

     I realize something then. I don’t have either of my parent’s phone numbers memorized. Never had a reason to. My phone kept track of that for me. My shattered, broken, completely destroyed phone.

     The only number I have memorized at all is Bob’s Pizza.

     Feeling like the biggest idiot, I punch in that number.

     “This is Bob’s Pizza!” The enthusiastic employee greets on the first ring.

     “Hi. My name is Carter Davis,” I say stupidly. “I need you to contact my parents.”

     “Usually customers call if they want an order….”

     “No, no, they’re not ordering a pizza.”  This earns me an odd glance from the girl. “Look, I don’t have their numbers and it’s really important that they know I’m alive.” 

     Silence.

     “Maybe you could ask around? I don’t know where I am, but I think the people here want to hurt me.”

     Another long pause. “Have you tried calling the police?”

     It’s my turn to stay silent. I can’t bring myself to understand just why I chose Bob’s Pizza over the police. Whatever they used to knock me out before the plane ride must have caused some serious brain damage or something.

     I don’t know what else to do, so I just hang up. I choose my next numbers wisely:  9-1-1. The recorded voice tells me to enter ...



God bless,
~Amy Rochelle