LOST
by Susan Vaught and Debbie Federici

Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.

Did I leave the keys in the truck?

What a stupid lame-ass thing to do.

Or maybe it was that Goth girl-she looked guilty. Maybe she picked my pocket when I was in the store.

"Hey, you!" I yelled at the girl. "Where's my mom's truck?"

The girl dropped her hand from her mouth and stared at me with those witchy gold-brown eyes, as though she was waiting for something.

I looked behind her-but the convenience market I'd entered just a few minutes before was gone.

A blast of ice-cold air shot through me.

I'd been afraid before, lots of times. But not like this.

What the hell was going on?

The convenience store had turned into something like an enormous roadside market. It was filled with rows of strange-looking fabrics, plants, candles, and things I had no clue as to what they might be. I wasn't even sure I wanted to know. Some of that stuff . . . it looked dangerous. And the smells! So strong, like onions, garlic, and herbs that my mom cooked with, and the sandalwood incense she burned all the time.

And the sky-it glittered. Like gold dust scattered across a shimmering blue wave. Way too poetic-sounding for me, but that's the only way I could think to describe it. Well, it did also kind of look like that glitter gel toothpaste I used as a kid.

Yeah, I might as well have been Dorothy-make that Toto-swept up in a tornado and plopped in freakin' OZ.

My mouth went dry and I swallowed past the baseball-sized lump in my throat. I turned back to the girl, who seemed as cool and calm as a mannequin. Hell, she would have made a great storefront dummy, as rigid as she stood. Her skin was pale, and well, flawless. Not a strand of hair was out of place, and not a speck of lint or dirt was on her black clothing.

Respond, don't react. Mom's endless preaching echoed in my head. Think it through.

Dad's voice came right after that. You're so impulsive. So irresponsible. Now you've lost your mother's truck, and got yourself tangled up with some hinky building-swapping town.

I clenched and unclenched my fists. Took a deep breath. And strode toward the girl.

She stood her ground and raised her chin, as though she might be a queen looking down on some peon.

"Where am I?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"Lost," she replied, her voice soft but clear.

"Do I look stupid? I know I'm lost. Now where am I?"

"L-O-S-T." She spelled it out this time, then turned and started toward the building behind her. "It stands for Live Oak Springs Township. And we need to hurry, or you'll be in L.O.S.T. forever."

I reached out, grabbed her upper arm, and pulled her to me. She glanced at my hand and back to my face, and by the look in those wicked eyes, I had the feeling that she could easily shove a knife through my heart without a second thought. But for some strange reason I didn't want to let go, no matter that the girl's weird eyes were spitting fire. A creepy golden sort of fire, a lot like the glitter in the sky.

"Let me go," she demanded, her tone hard. Nothing soft about her now.

I dropped my hand. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on."

The girl lifted her chin. "You have no choice, Bren. You have been chosen."

"What do you mean I haven't got a choice? Chosen to do what?" Anger rode through me in a hot wave. Then it dawned on me that she called me Bren and I knew I hadn't told her my name. "Wait a minute. How do you know who I am? Who are you?"

"Jasmina, but you may call me Jazz." She whirled around, and before I had a chance to catch her, she vanished into the spooky shop.

"Wait! Come back." I ran inside, and the first thing I saw was the fruit basket-only all the apples were gone.

Fingers.

There were fingers in that basket.

Neatly stacked, but definitely fingers. Did I leave the keys in the truck?

What a stupid lame-ass thing to do.

Or maybe it was that Goth girl-she looked guilty. Maybe she picked my pocket when I was in the store.

"Hey, you!" I yelled at the girl. "Where's my mom's truck?"

The girl dropped her hand from her mouth and stared at me with those witchy gold-brown eyes, as though she was waiting for something.

I looked behind her-but the convenience market I'd entered just a few minutes before was gone.

A blast of ice-cold air shot through me.

I'd been afraid before, lots of times. But not like this.

What the hell was going on?

The convenience store had turned into something like an enormous roadside market. It was filled with rows of strange-looking fabrics, plants, candles, and things I had no clue as to what they might be. I wasn't even sure I wanted to know. Some of that stuff . . . it looked dangerous. And the smells! So strong, like onions, garlic, and herbs that my mom cooked with, and the sandalwood incense she burned all the time.

And the sky-it glittered. Like gold dust scattered across a shimmering blue wave. Way too poetic-sounding for me, but that's the only way I could think to describe it. Well, it did also kind of look like that glitter gel toothpaste I used as a kid.

Yeah, I might as well have been Dorothy-make that Toto-swept up in a tornado and plopped in freakin' OZ.

My mouth went dry and I swallowed past the baseball-sized lump in my throat. I turned back to the girl, who seemed as cool and calm as a mannequin. Hell, she would have made a great storefront dummy, as rigid as she stood. Her skin was pale, and well, flawless. Not a strand of hair was out of place, and not a speck of lint or dirt was on her black clothing.

Respond, don't react. Mom's endless preaching echoed in my head. Think it through.

Dad's voice came right after that. You're so impulsive. So irresponsible. Now you've lost your mother's truck, and got yourself tangled up with some hinky building-swapping town.

I clenched and unclenched my fists. Took a deep breath. And strode toward the girl.

She stood her ground and raised her chin, as though she might be a queen looking down on some peon.

"Where am I?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"Lost," she replied, her voice soft but clear.

"Do I look stupid? I know I'm lost. Now where am I?"

"L-O-S-T." She spelled it out this time, then turned and started toward the building behind her. "It stands for Live Oak Springs Township. And we need to hurry, or you'll be in L.O.S.T. forever."

I reached out, grabbed her upper arm, and pulled her to me. She glanced at my hand and back to my face, and by the look in those wicked eyes, I had the feeling that she could easily shove a knife through my heart without a second thought. But for some strange reason I didn't want to let go, no matter that the girl's weird eyes were spitting fire. A creepy golden sort of fire, a lot like the glitter in the sky.

"Let me go," she demanded, her tone hard. Nothing soft about her now.

I dropped my hand. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on."

The girl lifted her chin. "You have no choice, Bren. You have been chosen."

"What do you mean I haven't got a choice? Chosen to do what?" Anger rode through me in a hot wave. Then it dawned on me that she called me Bren and I knew I hadn't told her my name. "Wait a minute. How do you know who I am? Who are you?"

"Jasmina, but you may call me Jazz." She whirled around, and before I had a chance to catch her, she vanished into the spooky shop.

"Wait! Come back." I ran inside, and the first thing I saw was the fruit basket-only all the apples were gone.

Fingers.

There were fingers in that basket.

Neatly stacked, but definitely fingers.

read the lost map