Read Online Wuthering high: a bard academy novel by Cara Lockwood - Free Book Online
Authors: Cara Lockwood
Tags: United States, Fiction, General, People & Places, Family, Horror, Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Maine, Social Issues, Horror & Ghost Stories, Ghosts, School & Education, Mysteries & Detective Stories, Schools, High schools, Adolescence, High school students, Boarding Schools, Illinois, Stepfamilies, English literature, juvenile delinquents
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obsessed with her wrinkles and Dad wasn’t completely preoccupied with golf. And every so often, I felt like we were a family. Now I just feel like I’m in the middle of a battlefield all the time. And just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, they send me away, a hundred miles away from my friends and everything I loved about my life. It’s like Dad wasn’t just content with ruining our family. He had to ruin my whole life, too.
I’m starting to feel pretty sorry for myself, which is what usually happens when I think about Mom and Dad splitting up. I don’t know why, because, I mean, people’s parents get divorced all the time. It’s more the rule than the exception, isn’t it?
I feel a lump in my throat and I suddenly feel like I might cry.
Before I can, my closet light flicks on. I start, sitting up in bed. The light from inside the closet outlines the door, sending slashes of light across my bedspread.
What the…?
My heartbeat kicks up a few notches. It’s been a long while since I thought there might be monsters hiding in my closet, but I’ve never seen a light just come on by itself before. I’m temporarily paralyzed. Do I get up and investigate? I’m not exactly all that thrilled about investigating an odd light coming from the closet. I’m no horror movie virgin. I know what happens to the curious. It starts out as a weird closet light coming on and ends up with me being hacked to pieces.
Cue tense horror music.
Then I remember that we’re not allowed to have any lights on after lights out. If somebody sees that closet light, it’ll mean detention, or worse.
Reluctantly, I throw the covers off and try to pretend like I am not freaked, when really I am. A little. Okay, more than a little. Even though I know it’s probably just a bad lightbulb, right? Or a faulty electrical switch. This place is ancient, so I bet the wiring isn’t too new. It is not a ghost. Or a serial killer. Or Jason. Or…man, I need to stop trying to think of scary things.
I get to the closet, and just when I’m about to open the door so I can turn off the light, something cold touches my shoulder.
“Aaaaaaaaaah,” I cry, jumping, I swear, six feet straight up in the air. If this were a scene in a movie, it would be the exact moment you spilled your popcorn all over your knees.
“Ms. Tate,” comes the stern voice of Ms. W behind me. She’s the one responsible for taking twenty years off my life. “I thought I warned you about lights out.”
“But it’s not my fault. I was trying to turn it off,” I say.
Ms. W steps in between me and the closet, reaching an arm into the closet and turning the light off.
“Time for bed,” she says.
I climb back into bed, feeling like a moron. I was scared of a light and Ms. W. I have got to get a grip.
Before I know it, I’m crying. I’m like Mom crying at commercials. What’s wrong with me? I shut my eyes, trying to hold back my tears, but they leak out anyway, pooling on my pillow.
Eight
That night I dream there’s a huge thunderstorm, so loud it rattles the windows of our tiny dorm room. In the dream, I’m standing at the window, watching the lightning. As I’m watching the raindrops splatter and flatten against the windowpane, something big and shadowy moves outside. Before I know it, the shadow comes toward me, through the window, and glass is flying everywhere. It’s a giant tree branch, whipped up by the wind. I wrap my hands around the branch and push it out again, but as I do so, I realize the branch has turned into human hands and they’re clutching my wrists. They belong to a girl floating outside the window. She’s pale and creepy and her mouth is moving, and she’s asking to be let in. And she looks a lot like…me.
I sit up in bed, my heart racing and cold sweat trickling down my back. The first thing I see is Blade’s poster of Satan and I almost scream. But then I remember where I am. Hell on Earth — Bard Academy. The grayish light
I’m starting to feel pretty sorry for myself, which is what usually happens when I think about Mom and Dad splitting up. I don’t know why, because, I mean, people’s parents get divorced all the time. It’s more the rule than the exception, isn’t it?
I feel a lump in my throat and I suddenly feel like I might cry.
Before I can, my closet light flicks on. I start, sitting up in bed. The light from inside the closet outlines the door, sending slashes of light across my bedspread.
What the…?
My heartbeat kicks up a few notches. It’s been a long while since I thought there might be monsters hiding in my closet, but I’ve never seen a light just come on by itself before. I’m temporarily paralyzed. Do I get up and investigate? I’m not exactly all that thrilled about investigating an odd light coming from the closet. I’m no horror movie virgin. I know what happens to the curious. It starts out as a weird closet light coming on and ends up with me being hacked to pieces.
Cue tense horror music.
Then I remember that we’re not allowed to have any lights on after lights out. If somebody sees that closet light, it’ll mean detention, or worse.
Reluctantly, I throw the covers off and try to pretend like I am not freaked, when really I am. A little. Okay, more than a little. Even though I know it’s probably just a bad lightbulb, right? Or a faulty electrical switch. This place is ancient, so I bet the wiring isn’t too new. It is not a ghost. Or a serial killer. Or Jason. Or…man, I need to stop trying to think of scary things.
I get to the closet, and just when I’m about to open the door so I can turn off the light, something cold touches my shoulder.
“Aaaaaaaaaah,” I cry, jumping, I swear, six feet straight up in the air. If this were a scene in a movie, it would be the exact moment you spilled your popcorn all over your knees.
“Ms. Tate,” comes the stern voice of Ms. W behind me. She’s the one responsible for taking twenty years off my life. “I thought I warned you about lights out.”
“But it’s not my fault. I was trying to turn it off,” I say.
Ms. W steps in between me and the closet, reaching an arm into the closet and turning the light off.
“Time for bed,” she says.
I climb back into bed, feeling like a moron. I was scared of a light and Ms. W. I have got to get a grip.
Before I know it, I’m crying. I’m like Mom crying at commercials. What’s wrong with me? I shut my eyes, trying to hold back my tears, but they leak out anyway, pooling on my pillow.
Eight
That night I dream there’s a huge thunderstorm, so loud it rattles the windows of our tiny dorm room. In the dream, I’m standing at the window, watching the lightning. As I’m watching the raindrops splatter and flatten against the windowpane, something big and shadowy moves outside. Before I know it, the shadow comes toward me, through the window, and glass is flying everywhere. It’s a giant tree branch, whipped up by the wind. I wrap my hands around the branch and push it out again, but as I do so, I realize the branch has turned into human hands and they’re clutching my wrists. They belong to a girl floating outside the window. She’s pale and creepy and her mouth is moving, and she’s asking to be let in. And she looks a lot like…me.
I sit up in bed, my heart racing and cold sweat trickling down my back. The first thing I see is Blade’s poster of Satan and I almost scream. But then I remember where I am. Hell on Earth — Bard Academy. The grayish light
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