Read Online The Shadow Cabinet by Maureen Johnson - Free Book Online Page A

if I could magic myself into its world, fall inside its boundaries, and turn up on a beach in the past. Feelings kept spilling over me, confusing waves—jealousy of his sister, for making him so happy. Happiness that I’d found the photo, then giddiness, then a sharp hysteria, and then . . .
    Just crying. Heavy-duty, no air, no light, nothing but the sound of heaving crying. Crying until my body was dry and there was nothing left and it heaved in vain. When that was done, I was still sitting there in the empty room, holding a picture. I set it down gingerly and pushed myself to my feet. I stumbled back, my eyes still blurry, in the direction of what I believed to be the kitchen. There were blinds in this room, not curtains, and they had been drawn. Little lines of light came through and partially illuminated the sink. I put my head under the faucet and ran the tap water right into my mouth until I gagged and coughed. Then I leaned against the sink for a moment and waited until the gagging stopped. Now that I had let that all out, my thoughts were a little clearer. I lifted two slats of the blinds with my fingers and looked out at a view that consisted entirely of darkness, albeit darkness contained by what looked like some pretty high brick garden walls.
    I heard the front door open and Boo call my name. I splashed my face, dried it on my hoodie, and went back into the living room. Boo was there, looking a bit strained. Behind her, Callum had his hands rooted into the pockets of his coat.
    â€œHey,” I said.
    Callum said nothing. A quiet Callum was an intimidating sight. He was—as much as I hate this word, I have to use it—built. Built like a thing that has been built by poets and people who love building things. And when I say intimidating, I don’t mean I thought Callum would hurt me. He never would. The pain, the rage at what happened, those things were evident. He was a mass of potential energy.
    Boo tapped his arm.
    â€œListen,” she said, “we have to stick together, yeah? There’s work to be done. And we’re a team. We have to keep it together. We need to talk.”
    Nothing. He might as well have been a statue.
    â€œSo,” Boo said, bravely carrying on, “we need to make a plan. Together. All of us.”
    â€œA plan for what?” Callum said.
    â€œFinding him,” she said.
    â€œDon’t say that,” Callum said.
    â€œCallum—”
    â€œI didn’t come here for that.”
    â€œCallum—”
    â€œHe’s not—”
    â€œHe is,” I said.
    The great statue that was Callum tipped its head toward me.
    â€œI know what I saw,” he said, and there was something terrible and raw in his voice. “I saw my best friend
die.
”
    â€œCallum . . .” Boo said again.
    â€œI’ve been walking around, yeah?” he said. “I walked all day. I walked because I thought I’d go mental if I stopped walking. I know what I saw. He died.”
    â€œYou know that doesn’t mean anything,” Boo said. “Look at what we
do.
”
    â€œIt means
everything.
Dead is dead. If you actually did bring him back, then you did the worst possible thing you could do to him. You got him into that accident. You should have let him go. I have to think he’s gone. He was
my friend.
You barely knew him.”
    â€œThat’s it!” Boo said. Her hand went up, and her finger hovered in front of his face. “That’s enough, yeah? That’s
enough.
Rory did not kill Stephen. He drove that car himself. Rory did something in that room, and if it brought him back, he’s back. He’s still Stephen, and he’s still your friend. He’s still one of us, and
nothing
is different. Is
this
how you’re going to treat him? Like he’s a monster? So if you’re his friend, you get your head together and help us find him, and you do it now. Or else sling your