It was Saturday morning, the first day of the weekend and the first day since my parents left for their tropical getaway out of country. They left yesterday, at noon, and they let me stay home from school. They departed with their suitcases and tropical shirts and sunglasses, awaiting the airport in an lighthearted mood. I watched them drive off in our grey Honda Chevy. About a month ago, my mother was awarded a job promotion and won a cruise for her and my dad, somewhere much warmer than where we lived. They had been excited and eager ever since. I can’t recall where, but I bet it’s much better than the snowy winter wonderland where I was, homealone. I expect both of my parents to have sunkissed tans and a tropical vibe when they return. I’m a good kid, which was mainly the reason they trusted me to guard the house with our golden retriever Finch, while they were gone for four days. I’m mostly a quiet person, but I do well in school, never skip class, and tomorrow my friend would be letting me stay at their house for the rest of the time until my parents got back, and on the bright side, I would bring Finch.

I sit in my family’s living room, on the grey sofa, facing the tv perched on the wall. On the large screen was playing ‘Home Alone’, the Christmas movie, as i snuggled myself into a red blanket, fitting the theme. My phone and a glass of water were nearby if I needed them. Christmas was only two weeks away, and i was eager so I decided to put on the classic movie. I pat my hand on the couch as Finch walks up towards me. “Come here boy.” I say. Finch stares blankly at me then turns his head slowly to the door. I shudder under the soft blanket. No one else is home, and my friend, Eliza isn’t supposed to come until tomorrow. “What’s wrong, Finchy?” I say in a baby voice. Finch lets out a growl and his tail stops wagging. His golden fur follows his motions as he moves his body towards the door of the house. Finch starts barking ferociously as the doorbell rings twice. I feel a sick feeling in my stomach as I take the blanket off me and creep my way to the door, past the kitchen, to the doorknob. I take a moment to unlock, and take a deep breath before peeping the door open an inch and peeking outside into the cold. No ones there, only the two sets of footprints my parents left yesterday in the snow.

I give a relieved sigh as I close and lock the door. We had just gotten an electric doorbell, so it must have been a glitch. Before returning to the couch, I head into the kitchen and retrieve one of Finch’s dog treats from the marble countertop, waving it in front of his face, and making him follow me into the couch, once again. This time when he jumps up next to me, I get an alert from my phone that I placed near the blanket. I freeze while reading the words. It was an alert for a missing person, it read, ‘Ella Saunders, missing from December fifteenth.” I drop the phone from my hand, I can’t read the rest. That’s _my_ name. But I’m not missing, my parents left yesterday and I said goodbye to them. Yesterday was the eleventh, not the fourteenth. Wait… I travel from my spot on the sofa and go back to the door, but this time I take a closer look at the footprints. There going _inside_, not outside. I close the door behind me, but when I look up , I nearly scream. My parents are sobbing, sitting on two of the three chairs on the kitchen countertop. “Mom, dad.” I say, stepping closer to them. They don’t respond. “Mom?” I say, starting to freak out. She doesn’t answer. I feel my eyes puffing up and my heartbeat getting faster. Am I invisible? Did I somehow fall asleep and now they can’t see me?

I peek over my moms shoulder and look at the piece of paper on the countertop. I take it and look at it. From the corner of my eye, I see a version of it still on the table. I read the paper. “Ella Saunders, a thirteen year old girl from Minnesota, was taken from her home on the twelfth of December and declared missing only a few hours later. Her parents weren’t with her at the time, but in Costa Rica on a trip. A neighbor received a video tape from their camera, and when looking over on it saw a van pull up to the house. Further notice is under investigation.”

I collapse to the floor, my face in my arms, tears flowing out. I feel fur brush against my arm and I look up, red eyed and puffy faced. It’s my best friend, Finch. He rests his small head in my lap and I start to stroke his fur. He would protect me at all costs, and even know I don’t remember what happened, I know he would have had helped me. That makes me wonder… if Finch can see me, he must know what happened. I stand up and clutch the paper. I will find out what happened, and I will spend as long as I need to figuring it out.