Kidnapped

Chapter 1

"Honey, come downstairs!" My mom called. I lifted my head from my book. "It's time for dinner!"

"Coming!" I shouted back, slapping my book closed and jumping up from my bed, skipping down the stairs that led from my bedroom to the kitchen.

The aroma of pasta rose to my nose as I entered the kitchen, where my mom was just serving a plate of spaghetti to my dad and brother. "There you are, Trixa!" My mom exclaimed. "We're serving your favorite--"

"Well it's sure not my favorite dish," My incredibly aggravating older brother, Bruce, interrupted in his usual way. "My favorite dish is--"

"Absolutely no one cares," I stated imperiously. "I'm hungry and I would rather not lose my appetite to one of your annoying comments."

"All the other girls at school care," Bruce answered with a sly grin. I stuck my tongue out at him, but I knew it was true. Bruce was probably the cutest guy in twelfth grade, with his short black hair and electric blue eyes, not to mention that he was probably the strongest football player in the entire state of Minnesota.

"Oh, please," I reminded him. "You have a girlfriend. Why do you need to impress the other girls?"

Once again, Bruce answered with one of his normal obnoxious answers. "In case I break up."

"Which you do about twice a month!" I taunted him.

"Now, you two!" My mom scolded. "Stop it!" She flicked a bit of sauce at both of us with her long, slender fingers, snapping us out of one of our many arguments. "Sit down and chill, both of you."

I sat down obediently, but not before shooting Bruce one last death glare. As I started eating, I thought about how Bruce was able to get to me whenever he wanted to. He was one of the few people who could. Maybe it was because he knew that he was, well, hot, and I was...not. With my mousy brown hair, my too-tiny frame, and my thin, spindly limbs, I wasn't exactly up to model-standards. I suppose my large, owl-like amber eyes were pretty, but they were the only feature on my body that could be even close to beautiful.

My dad was flipping through the newspaper, a concerned frown dampening his expression. "What's up?" I asked him, curious of what could make him so aggravated.

It was a few seconds before he answered. "More wonderful news of the real world," He answered, and I heard distinct sarcasm in his voice.

"What kind of wonderful news?" I asked, chowing down on my spaghetti.

"Disappearances," He answered blandly. "Kidnappings." Despite his careful precautions to hide his thoughts and emotions, I saw that he was more anxious and worried than he was letting on.

"Anyone we know?" Bruce asked curiously.

"Do you remember the Ross family? From my work?" My dad questioned, his sparkling blue eyes alight with worry.

"Yes," My mom, Bruce, and I chimed in all at once.

"Their son, six-year old Eric, is one of those who is missing."

There was a moment of silence as considered this--I'd known Eric well, I'd even volunteered at his preschool class once. If he was missing...

"Don't worry," my mom reassured us after a few moments of silence. "I'm sure that the authorities will find him soon."

I nodded my head, even though the cold fog that seemed to have drifted into the kitchen didn't lift.

Finally, the conversation moved onto lighter subjects, though I didn't participate much in it. At one point, I noticed the time and squeaked in surprise. "Oh, gosh!" I squealed, grabbing my plate and tossing it into the sink. "I'm going to be late for the party!"