Gone Read Online Free PDF Page A

whispers. She sighs and sets the phone on her bedside table and her suitcase next to it, and falls into bed.
    4:24 a.m.
    Janie dreams.
    There are rocks covering her bedroom floor and a suitcase on her bed. Each rock has something scribbled on it, but Janie can only read the rocks when she picks them up
.
    She picks one.
“HELP ME,”
it reads.
“CABE,”
reads another
.
    “DOROTHEA. CRIPPLED. SECRET. BLIND.”
    When she puts them back on the floor, they grow bigger, heavier. Soon, she knows, she will run out of room on the floor to put the rocks, but she can’t stop picking them up, reading them. The floor is crowded, and Janie’s having trouble breathing. The rocks are sucking the air from the room
.
    Finally, Janie sets a rock in the suitcase. It shrinks to the size of a pebble
.
    Janie slowly, methodically, picks up all the rocks and puts them in the suitcase. The task seems endless. Finally, she picks up the last one,
“ISOLATE.”
Sets it down with the others. It becomes a pebble, and all the other pebbles disappear
.
    Janie stares at the suitcase. Knows what she has to do
.
    She closes it
.
    Picks it up
.
    And walks out
.

FRIDAY

    August 4, 2006, 9:15 a.m.
    Janie lies awake, staring at the ceiling. Thinking about everything. About this one more thing. The green notebook, the hearing, the gossip, college, her mother, and now this guy Henry. What’s next? It’s too much already. A familiar wave of panic washes over her, captures her chest and squeezes it. Hard. Harder. Janie gulps for air and she can’t get enough. She rolls to her side in a ball.
    “Chill,” she says, gasping. “Just chill the fuck out.”
    It’s all too much.
    She covers her mouth and nose with her hands, breathes into them, in and out, until she can get a good breath. She makes her mind go blank.
    Focuses.
    Breathes.
    Just breathes.
    9:29 a.m.
    The door to Janie’s mother’s room remains closed.
    Janie wanders aimlessly around the little house, wondering what the hell she’s supposed to do about Henry. She nibbles on a granola bar, sweating. It’s a scorcher already. She flips on the oscillating fan in the living room and props open the front door, begging for a breeze, and then she plops down on the couch.
    Through the ripped screen door Janie sees Cabel pulling into the driveway, and her heart sinks. He hops out of the car and takes long, smooth strides to the front door. Lets himself in, as usual. He stops and lets his eyes adjust.
    Smiles a crooked smile. “Hey,” he says.
    She pats the worn couch cushion next to her. “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,” she says as Cabel leans in. “Your nose is peeling.”
    “Don’t care, and don’t care.” Cabel leans in and kisses her. Then he plops down on the couch. “You okay that I’m here . . . and stuff?” he asks.
    “Yeah.” Janie slides her hand on his thigh and squeezes.“Last night . . . I just didn’t know what to expect. I wasn’t sure about my mom, you know? Wasn’t sure what she’d do.”
    “What
did
she do?” He looks around nervously.
    “Not much. She was a little obnoxious. Not impossible. But she didn’t say a word about Henry and I didn’t dare ask. God, she can’t even go twelve hours without a drink. And if she doesn’t have one, she gets mean.” Janie drops her chin. “It’s embarrassing, you know?”
    “My dad was like that too. Only he was mean with or without. At least he was consistent.” Cabel grins wryly.
    Janie snorts. “I guess I’m lucky.” She glances sidelong at Cabel.
    Considers.
    Finally says, “Did you ever wish your dad was dead? I mean, before he hurt you? Just so you could, like, not have to deal with him anymore?”
    Cabel narrows his eyes. “Every. Damn. Day.”
    Janie bites her lip. “So, are you glad he died in jail?”
    Cabel is quiet for a long time. Then he shrugs. When he speaks, his voice is measured, almost clinical, as if he is talking to a shrink. “It was the best possible outcome, under the