Read Online Wuthering high: a bard academy novel by Cara Lockwood - Free Book Online Page B
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
Ads: Link
girlfriend’s brother knew her.” Samir pauses, then says, “I bet your room is haunted. That’s why the closet light came on. Wow, this is so cool. We should have a séance in the room. I could invite all the hot freshmen. You know, because girls put out if they’re scared.”
“You are disgusting,” Hana says, wrinkling her nose. “You are a perv. A total mlut, you know that: a man slut.”
“You mean, he would be if anyone would have him,” I tease.
“Okay, that is not fair,” Samir says. “Not fair at all. I’m just a man. We have needs.”
“Ignore him,” Hana says as she takes the library card from my hands and inspects it. “Wow. I guess she did exist, but it doesn’t prove that she disappeared.”
“We could find out,” Samir says. “By looking her up in the archives at the library.”
Nine
The library is what I would imagine the Library of Congress might look like if I’d ever seen it. Aside from two giant lion statues standing guard outside the biggest building on campus next to the chapel, the library has stone pillars outside it and a huge, tiled lobby guarded by a large, round circulation desk. The bookshelves line the building from floor to ceiling, which has to be at least twenty-five-feet high. Long, rolling ladders are at every shelf and the shelves are so crammed with books that high stacks of them are leaning against nearly every shelf, continuing on for as far as I can see. For some reason, the library seems even bigger on the inside than it looks like it should be from the outside. There’s something about the immenseness of it that makes you feel small. I get the feeling that if you scream at one end, no one could hear you at the other.
Now, however, the library isn’t quiet. It’s full of dozens of students waiting in lines near the front desk, trying to pick up their class schedules.
“You can’t get breakfast until you get your schedule,” Hana tells me, explaining the lines.
I think about the awful dinner from the night before.
“If you don’t get your schedule, does that mean you don’t have to eat breakfast?” I ask, ever hopeful.
“Sorry,” Samir says. “I already tried that. They make you eat it, anyway.”
“Crap,” Hana exclaims suddenly. “We can’t get up to see the old newspapers and yearbooks. They’re upstairs and they have it roped off.”
I look where she’s looking, and sure enough, there’s a velvet rope draped across the staircase leading up. There’s a sign that says DO NOT ENTER .
“You’re going to let a sign stop us?” Samir asks. “Aren’t we supposed to be delinquents?” And with that, he marches straight over to the staircase and steps right over the velvet rope.
Hana looks at me, and we both shrug and then follow Samir up the stairs.
Upstairs, the lights aren’t on and it’s darker and more musty smelling than downstairs. It’s that old-attic smell, sort of like mothballs and Grandma’s house. I’m not sure how we’re supposed to find anything in the semidark. Samir leads us straight to the old school yearbooks.
“I thought you never went into the library,” Hana says, amazed.
“I said I didn’t study in the library,” Samir says. “But I know where the yearbooks are. How do you think I do research on all the hot sophomores?”
“I thought you preferred freshmen,” I say.
“That’s this year,” Samir says. “Sophomores were last year.” He winks at me.
“Guess I missed my window then,” I say. “That’s too bad.”
“I would definitely make an exception for you,” Samir says.
“She was clearly kidding, you dork,” Hana says. “Anyway, I’m going to go find the local newspaper stuff.” Hana ducks down the next aisle.
I pull out the 1990 yearbook. I flip to the S’s, finding Kate Shaw at the top corner of the page. She has dark, straight hair and good cheekbones, and carefully done makeup. In a word, pretty.
I take a closer look.
Actually, she looks a lot like…well, me.
I
“You are disgusting,” Hana says, wrinkling her nose. “You are a perv. A total mlut, you know that: a man slut.”
“You mean, he would be if anyone would have him,” I tease.
“Okay, that is not fair,” Samir says. “Not fair at all. I’m just a man. We have needs.”
“Ignore him,” Hana says as she takes the library card from my hands and inspects it. “Wow. I guess she did exist, but it doesn’t prove that she disappeared.”
“We could find out,” Samir says. “By looking her up in the archives at the library.”
Nine
The library is what I would imagine the Library of Congress might look like if I’d ever seen it. Aside from two giant lion statues standing guard outside the biggest building on campus next to the chapel, the library has stone pillars outside it and a huge, tiled lobby guarded by a large, round circulation desk. The bookshelves line the building from floor to ceiling, which has to be at least twenty-five-feet high. Long, rolling ladders are at every shelf and the shelves are so crammed with books that high stacks of them are leaning against nearly every shelf, continuing on for as far as I can see. For some reason, the library seems even bigger on the inside than it looks like it should be from the outside. There’s something about the immenseness of it that makes you feel small. I get the feeling that if you scream at one end, no one could hear you at the other.
Now, however, the library isn’t quiet. It’s full of dozens of students waiting in lines near the front desk, trying to pick up their class schedules.
“You can’t get breakfast until you get your schedule,” Hana tells me, explaining the lines.
I think about the awful dinner from the night before.
“If you don’t get your schedule, does that mean you don’t have to eat breakfast?” I ask, ever hopeful.
“Sorry,” Samir says. “I already tried that. They make you eat it, anyway.”
“Crap,” Hana exclaims suddenly. “We can’t get up to see the old newspapers and yearbooks. They’re upstairs and they have it roped off.”
I look where she’s looking, and sure enough, there’s a velvet rope draped across the staircase leading up. There’s a sign that says DO NOT ENTER .
“You’re going to let a sign stop us?” Samir asks. “Aren’t we supposed to be delinquents?” And with that, he marches straight over to the staircase and steps right over the velvet rope.
Hana looks at me, and we both shrug and then follow Samir up the stairs.
Upstairs, the lights aren’t on and it’s darker and more musty smelling than downstairs. It’s that old-attic smell, sort of like mothballs and Grandma’s house. I’m not sure how we’re supposed to find anything in the semidark. Samir leads us straight to the old school yearbooks.
“I thought you never went into the library,” Hana says, amazed.
“I said I didn’t study in the library,” Samir says. “But I know where the yearbooks are. How do you think I do research on all the hot sophomores?”
“I thought you preferred freshmen,” I say.
“That’s this year,” Samir says. “Sophomores were last year.” He winks at me.
“Guess I missed my window then,” I say. “That’s too bad.”
“I would definitely make an exception for you,” Samir says.
“She was clearly kidding, you dork,” Hana says. “Anyway, I’m going to go find the local newspaper stuff.” Hana ducks down the next aisle.
I pull out the 1990 yearbook. I flip to the S’s, finding Kate Shaw at the top corner of the page. She has dark, straight hair and good cheekbones, and carefully done makeup. In a word, pretty.
I take a closer look.
Actually, she looks a lot like…well, me.
I
Similar Books
