Oliver

A dog takes a girl on an interesting adventure.

I got the park about twenty minutes ago and from the screaming children to the gossiping soccer moms, I've only been able to read about six pages of my book. As my eyes move to reread the last sentence I read for the fortieth time, a streak of white jets out of the woods. As it slows, it morphs into the shape of a shaggy white and black dog. 

He stops and sniffs around for a minute or two and barks when he doesn't find what he's looking for. Maybe a place to pee or a bone he buried. He moves a few feet from the spot he just sniffed, where I was sitting when I first got the park, and starts sniffing. He barks again but this time he's found something. My red scarf. I must have left it when I moved to this bench because the grass was itching my legs. 

I stand up to go get the scarf from the dog but, before I can take two steps, I trip. I flip over so I'm on my back and the dog jumps onto my stomach, holding my scarf in his mouth. 

"Hey!" I yell at him and he jumps back off my stomach. I stand back up and wipe the dirt and leaves off my jacket. The dog sits entirely still, except for his tail that's wagging back and forth. He looks up at me, holding my scarf in his salivating mouth. I reach toward him to snatch it but he runs off back towards the woods. I grab my book and follow him.

He sits at the opening into the woods, still holding my scarf. As I get closer to him, he trots further into the woods. I follow the dog as he trots on. Squirrels jump from branch to branch, scurrying through the tress and birds flap their wings as we pass by but he is only focused on walking, not paying the wildlife any attention. 

"Who do you belong to, dog?" No one. He doesn't have a collar or a name tag on his neck. I walk on until he stops beside a small stream. He drops my scarf into the dirt so he can get a drink of water. I pick up my now wet scarf and tie around my hip instead of my neck. I don't want his slobber on my neck. I turn around and start walking back the way we came. I hear a rustling of leaves and branches behind me, then beside me, then in front of me. Suddenly, the dog jumps out from the bushes and I nearly trip over him again. I move to the side to walk around him but he moves as well, blocking my way.

"Well, what do you want?" He tilts his snout up at me and begins to walk back towards the stream. I decide to follow him out of curiosity and hope he isn't leading me to some pedophile's hide out in the middle of the woods. We walk on until we get to the biggest tree I have ever seen. It has to be eight feet wide. 

"Oliver!" a voice says and then whistles a high pitched tone. "Oliver, come here, boy!" The dog runs toward the sound and I follow the familiar blur of white until it stops at its owner's feet. I peer my head around the thick tree to get a better look at the duo. 

"Where you been, boy?" It's a man, no boy. The voice belongs to a boy  that sixteen, maybe seventeen years old. he has long brown hair and his clothes are pretty tattered. His shirt is covered in dirt and his pants have holes in the knees and the pant legs are torn. He's also barefoot. 

Snap

"S**t!" I whisper. The boy's head turns as I duck back behind the tree. 

"Who's there?" He takes a deep breath. "I know you're out there. I heard you. Where are you? Come out." Oliver runs to me and starts barking. I see the brown-haired boy take out a knife from his back pocket and I decide to step out from behind the tree, where I'd hidden myself.

"Theresa?" He walks up to me and places his hands on my shoulders. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?" He asks me, slightly shaking my shoulders.

"How do you know my name?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Tessie?" Tessie.Only one person has ever called me that. And that person has been dead for six years. But, when I look into the boy's eyes, I know he's still alive.

"David? I thought you were... we all thought you were..."

"Come with me. I promise I will tell you everything." He grabs my hand and leads me into a teepee sort of wooden structure. He grabs a cheap lawn chair and opens it so I can sit down.

"Mom and dad are not who you think they are."