Read Online The Awakening of Ren Crown by Anne Zoelle - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Anne Zoelle
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there. I picked up the thinner of the two pieces—the charcoal pencil. It felt odd in my hand, just as its chunkier counterpart had. Perhaps there was a reason for that.
I redrew the needle and thread with the thin charcoal. One second after I finished, the lines lightened to a dark gray and fell to the ground at Will's feet. There was a gravity field inside my drawing?
Sure. Why not?
Will didn't even bother to look down, so obvious was his distress. He crossed his arms, causing the rip in his sleeve to grow. He seemed to be taking deep breaths. Finally, he poked a finger at the charcoal pencil, then thrust a finger at his own chest.
I poked him with the pencil. The action forced him back a step, his midsection burrowing in with the poke. The drapes rippled behind him, as though the motions had produced a breeze, and the shaded circles drawn on them slowly rotated, as if they were pinwheels affected by the same wind. His eyes widened, and he backed away from the nearest circle.
I blinked, then touched the needle and thread bundle with the pencil tip and focused on moving them. They inched jerkily to the side, the motion becoming smoother as my motions became surer. The charcoal left only a faint trace of gray, and within a few seconds, the farthest point of the line began to disappear, creeping along the rest of the line toward my implement, as if I was drawing with water. I lifted my pencil and the disappearing line caught up and evaporated completely.
I looked at the end of my pencil, then back at the sketch. Will was looking wide-eyed as well. He pulled out his tablet, pushed a button, looked frustrated, and shoved it back into his pinstriped jacket.
He pointed at my pencil, then pointed at himself with one hand, while the other mimicked writing.
“Oh.” I drew him a pencil. As the tip of my charcoal lifted from the paper, the drawn pencil turned a lighter hue and began to fall inside the page. Will caught it before it hit the sketched floor.
He immediately wrote “uoyeraohw” on the invisible wall between us.
I tried to pronounce it. “Uoyeraohw. Hawaiian?”
He crossed out the letters, cheeks turning a shaded gray in embarrassment, then in a very stilted way wrote, “Who are you?” in the other direction, though, the “r” was still backward.
“Ah.” Two way glass. Right. “Write normally. I can read backwards, now that I know what to expect.” I nervously ran a hand through my hair. “I'm Ren.”
“Ren, you okay?” I jumped, but then realized the voice had come through my bedroom door.
“Uh...just video chatting, Dad.”
“Okay.” Feet moved down the hall. It was a testament to how much they wanted to believe I had someone to video chat with.
I examined the drapes for a moment, then nudged the panel on the right so that it overlapped the other. Immediately, some of the tension released from Will, though he still cast it a narrowed glance. He started writing again.
I'm Will. Did you create this drawing?
“Yes.” I bit my lip. “I think so.” It hadn't looked at all like this before Mr. Verisetti had interrupted me. But all of the lines had been styled as if by my hand.
Can you remove me, please?
I reached toward the drawing, ready to be sucked inside, but my fingers crumpled into my palm as they hit a solid surface.
Will's shoulders drooped. Then he looked up sharply, motioning to my charcoal, then at the space next to him. I put the tip in the spot indicated. Will tried to grab hold of the pencil, but his hands slid right off, as if there was a thin layer of slick liquid on the charcoal.
Will peered at my fingers, then lifted his pencil to write. Paint?
I rifled through my bag, but the tube of paint from the classroom wasn't inside. I bit my lip. The tube must have fallen out with the rest of my things. I hadn't paid attention to anything else after Will had been sucked into the sketch. I grabbed for a tube of Cadmium Red. No, too much like blood. I picked up yellow instead.
I redrew the needle and thread with the thin charcoal. One second after I finished, the lines lightened to a dark gray and fell to the ground at Will's feet. There was a gravity field inside my drawing?
Sure. Why not?
Will didn't even bother to look down, so obvious was his distress. He crossed his arms, causing the rip in his sleeve to grow. He seemed to be taking deep breaths. Finally, he poked a finger at the charcoal pencil, then thrust a finger at his own chest.
I poked him with the pencil. The action forced him back a step, his midsection burrowing in with the poke. The drapes rippled behind him, as though the motions had produced a breeze, and the shaded circles drawn on them slowly rotated, as if they were pinwheels affected by the same wind. His eyes widened, and he backed away from the nearest circle.
I blinked, then touched the needle and thread bundle with the pencil tip and focused on moving them. They inched jerkily to the side, the motion becoming smoother as my motions became surer. The charcoal left only a faint trace of gray, and within a few seconds, the farthest point of the line began to disappear, creeping along the rest of the line toward my implement, as if I was drawing with water. I lifted my pencil and the disappearing line caught up and evaporated completely.
I looked at the end of my pencil, then back at the sketch. Will was looking wide-eyed as well. He pulled out his tablet, pushed a button, looked frustrated, and shoved it back into his pinstriped jacket.
He pointed at my pencil, then pointed at himself with one hand, while the other mimicked writing.
“Oh.” I drew him a pencil. As the tip of my charcoal lifted from the paper, the drawn pencil turned a lighter hue and began to fall inside the page. Will caught it before it hit the sketched floor.
He immediately wrote “uoyeraohw” on the invisible wall between us.
I tried to pronounce it. “Uoyeraohw. Hawaiian?”
He crossed out the letters, cheeks turning a shaded gray in embarrassment, then in a very stilted way wrote, “Who are you?” in the other direction, though, the “r” was still backward.
“Ah.” Two way glass. Right. “Write normally. I can read backwards, now that I know what to expect.” I nervously ran a hand through my hair. “I'm Ren.”
“Ren, you okay?” I jumped, but then realized the voice had come through my bedroom door.
“Uh...just video chatting, Dad.”
“Okay.” Feet moved down the hall. It was a testament to how much they wanted to believe I had someone to video chat with.
I examined the drapes for a moment, then nudged the panel on the right so that it overlapped the other. Immediately, some of the tension released from Will, though he still cast it a narrowed glance. He started writing again.
I'm Will. Did you create this drawing?
“Yes.” I bit my lip. “I think so.” It hadn't looked at all like this before Mr. Verisetti had interrupted me. But all of the lines had been styled as if by my hand.
Can you remove me, please?
I reached toward the drawing, ready to be sucked inside, but my fingers crumpled into my palm as they hit a solid surface.
Will's shoulders drooped. Then he looked up sharply, motioning to my charcoal, then at the space next to him. I put the tip in the spot indicated. Will tried to grab hold of the pencil, but his hands slid right off, as if there was a thin layer of slick liquid on the charcoal.
Will peered at my fingers, then lifted his pencil to write. Paint?
I rifled through my bag, but the tube of paint from the classroom wasn't inside. I bit my lip. The tube must have fallen out with the rest of my things. I hadn't paid attention to anything else after Will had been sucked into the sketch. I grabbed for a tube of Cadmium Red. No, too much like blood. I picked up yellow instead.
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