It was Price Hudson's mother who died, but Price feels like it was him.
Everything that he used to enjoy—baseball, comics, even girls--seems petty and pointless now. He wants nothing more than to forget his old life and start over somewhere new, where no one knows him and no one expects anything from him. So when his dad decides to move them to the country, he welcomes the change, even if it means cows and dirt roads and crazy neighbors.
He doesn't expect to become so wrapped up in the mystery behind their daughter's disappearance that finding out what happened to her consumes his life. The girl next door is definitely not what he thought she'd be.
Genre: JUVENILE FICTION / Fantasy & MagicA new release, the other books in the series have garnered more than 50 positive reviews across Amazon. More books in the series are planned.
Price Hudson stood in the doorway of his bedroom and stared at the bare walls. The holes from the nails had all been filled in, but he still saw his room the way it had looked a month ago: posters of his favorite baseball players on one side, comic books piled in a corner, and a bookshelf against the far wall with more photos and memorabilia than books.
In a matter of months, his whole life had changed.
“Price?” His dad popped around the corner and joined him. He glanced around the room, then dropped a hand on Price’s shoulder. “Let’s go, son. The moving van’s loaded. And your friends are here.”
Price nodded, a sour taste in the back of his throat. He didn’t have friends anymore. The people he’d thought were friends were as anxious for him to go as his father was to get out.
They passed the closed guest room on the way to the front door, and Price pulled up short. “I’ll be right out.”
His father glanced at the room and only nodded.
Price took a deep breath before pushing open the door. The room smelled clean and sterile, slightly acidic with the scent of antiseptic cleaner. Price stepped all the way in, his eyes roving around the corners of the room, inhaling deeply. His fingers touched the rough plaster on the wall.
“Mom,” he whispered.
Nothing. He stood for a few heartbeats more, but there was nothing of her in this room where she’d spent her last weeks. His eyes burned, and his fingers curled into fists. “Mom,” he said again, his voice breaking.
He plunged from the room, slamming the door behind him, then stood in the hall catching his breath. This was why they were moving. Every inch of this house prompted some memory, some longing of his mother. And yet it was all so hollow. When she’d left, she’d taken every bit of joy with her.
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French
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Translation in progress.
Translated by Shinaayomi Oyegbule
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German
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Already translated.
Translated by Jenny Riemer
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Author review: Great translator, delighted she wanted to work with me again. |
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Italian
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Translation in progress.
Translated by Ambra Scanferla
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Isabel Martínez
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Author review: Great job, no issues with the translation |
