Prologue:
An Accident

“I hate nature!” you shout. Of course, that’s not true, but right now it feels like it. You have been saving your money for more than two months. You almost have enough to buy the new Zombie Surfers video game.

But now your dad is making you go on a camping trip. If that’s not bad enough, he’s making you pay for half of the sleeping bag you’ll need. So it’s bye, bye money—and bye, bye video game.

“I don’t wanna go camping!” you yell.

You’re so mad you can feel your cheeks getting hot. You spin away from your father, not waiting for him to respond. You want to throw something. Kick something. Scream something.

As you stomp up the stairs to your room, it’s a bad time for the family dog, Lucy, to get in your way. The golden retriever wags her shaggy tail, panting happily as she trots down the steps toward you.

You’ve never really been much of a dog person. Your memories flash to times when Lucy jumped on you, scratched you, chewed your favorite toys—and now you want her gone.

She stops in your path, almost tripping you. It fills you with a momentary rage. You yell, “Get out of my way, Lucy! You’re a bad dog!”

You aren’t a mean person, and what happens next is an accident. But that doesn’t make you feel any better.

Lucy cowers away from you, her head and her tail sagging. She steps on a book that you left on the stairs. It slides, and Lucy loses her footing. She rolls against the side of the stairwell and then tumbles down the five steps behind you.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

At the bottom, the dog skids to a stop. She whimpers softly as she staggers to her feet. It looks like she’s going to be okay.

But Lucy has fallen hard and loud. It’s enough to bring your dad running.

“What happened?” he exclaims. “Are you—” He looks up at you, down at Lucy, then up at you again. His wide, worried eyes morph into narrow slits of anger.

“What did you do?” he growls.

“It was accident,” you whine.

He points up the stairs and shouts more loudly than you’ve ever heard him before. “Get to your room! I don’t want to see you until morning.”

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what to say. So you lash out. “I’m never going camping with you!” You turn and run up the stairs to your room, slamming the door behind you.

As you lie in bed, wishing you were anywhere but here, you suddenly notice the muffled sounds of dogs barking and people yelling. The noise is faint at first, but it steadily grows louder. Strangely, it doesn’t seem to be coming from outside or even downstairs. It’s coming from your bookshelf.

You climb out of bed and creep toward the sound. It leads you to the bottom shelf, lined with crumbly, old books that you’ve never seen before: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, Dracula, Treasure Island and more. But the sounds seem to be coming from one book in particular: Jack London’s The Call of the Wild.

You’re afraid to guess what will happen if you pick up the book, yet you can’t help feeling curious. Could this be the thrill of a lifetime? Will it be dangerous? Is there a chance you’ll get hurt—or even killed?

You feel strangely certain that the answer is “yes” to all of the above.

The sound slowly begins to fade. Your instincts tell you it’s now or never. You must decide, and you must decide fast. Will you pick up the book, or will you leave it be? What will you choose to do? (Choices are on the next page.)