Six Read Online Free PDF

batteries, and a set of headphones.
    Parker had watched as his father had put the pencil into one of the holes of the cassette then had turned it slowly, causing the ribbon to wind back into its housing. Turning it upside down to show Parker that the ribbon had now become taut, Parker’s father had then placed the cassette into the Walkman and pressed play, only to find that it didn’t work. He’d shaken it, replaced the batteries with another set, pressed all the buttons with increasing frustration, and finally banged it against the wall before giving up. There was, he’d said, too much packing to do to be wasting time fixing junk.
    Parker, however, was not so easily deterred—it was exactly the kind of challenge that he loved. That night, after hours spent carefully dismantling the Walkman, locating the problem, and then rebuilding it, Parker had lain on his bed and listened to the mixtape his dad had made while at university. The next day, Parker had rummaged around in the attic and found three more cassettes. It was one of these—another homemade collection of songs with the words ROAD TRIP scrawled in thick black marker on the front sticker—that he pulled out now. Parker clicked the cassette into place, closed the cover, put on the headphones, and pressed firmly down on the play button. He leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes, and allowed his thoughts to be washed away by the music.
    *  *  *  *  *  *
    Three songs into side B of the cassette, the lights above Parker began to flicker on. Startled, he bolted upright and, with a swift yank, pulled the headphones from his ears.
    Clunk. Rattle. Clunk.
    It sounded like somebody was rummaging through a box. Of all the days to pick, thought Parker, cursing his bad luck. He held his breath and waited, hoping that whoever it was would find whatever it was they were looking for quickly and leave.
    A few seconds later the noise stopped. Parker waited—every part of his body frozen in high alert, but instead of hearing the door opening, as he’d hoped, he heard the sound of something—a crate maybe—being moved not too far from where he was sitting. As quietly as possible, Parker scooted over to his left until he found a small gap between the crates and the cart. He leaned forward and, with his eye pressed to the gap, looked out onto the room.
    Parker saw him straightaway. In the center of the room, leaning over a box with his back to Parker, was a boy wearing black trousers and a short-sleeved blue-and-white-checked shirt. He guessed that the boy was maybe his age and could see the brown skin of his arm but, other than that, Parker couldn’t make out much more from where he was sitting.
    Parker stayed still and kept watching as the boy gave up on the box, stood, and turned to his left to survey the line of boxes against the wall. Now that he could see the boy properly, with his closely shaved black hair and thick black-framed glasses—Parker realized that he knew him. He was almost certain they were in the same grade, and he was trying to work out what classes they shared when, in a decision that took him completely by surprise, the boy suddenly turned on his heels and began to walk toward him.
    Parker ducked down and listened as the boxes in front of him were opened one by one in turn. Finally Parker heard the sound of a box being opened in front of the cart he was hiding behind, and he realized that the game was up—he was going to have to do something. Without enough time to think of a better plan, Parker reached into one of the boxes next to him and grabbed the first thing that came to hand.
    â€œFound it!” he said as he jumped up and found himself face-to-face with the boy standing only a couple of feet in front of him.
    â€œAaaargh!”
    The boy screamed then did a strange whole-body wobble before staggering backward to the floor, holding both hands in front of his face for