How to Hang a Witch by Adriana Mather Read Free Book Online

conversation. I kick the door with my black boot and it slams in her face. By some highly unfortunate coincidence, as the door booms shut the lights turn off. From outside the tiny sliver of a window in the door, which is now my only source of light, she laughs.
    You’ve got to be kidding me.
I stand up and bang my knee into one of the wooden chairs. “Ow!”
    I push the chair aside and more slowly make my way to the wall.
This cannot be happening right now.
I swat the wall with my hands and land on a small switch. Up, down, up, down. Nothing.
    I grab the door handle and pull, but it doesn’t budge. I pull harder. Nothing. I throw my weight back, and with all my might I pull again. Still nothing. Lizzie walks away, leaving me stuck and all alone.
    Did she lock me in somehow?
As far as I can tell, there’s no manual lock. She would need a key. How’d she do it? Maybe it’s an old lock and it jammed when I slammed the door? But that still doesn’t explain why the lights went out. I reach for my cell phone, but there’s no signal.
    That only leaves banging and yelling.
“Help!”
    What if no one hears me? I’m in an unpopular part of the library. Not so unpopular that Lizzie and her spies couldn’t find me, but still. What’s that girl planning, anyway? I find it hard to believe that this and the locker stunt are unrelated.
    Twenty minutes pass before a scraggly-looking janitor finds me.
    “Please help me get out of here!” I yell. It’s starting to smell really musty, and it’s dark. Plus, I’m not a huge fan of spiders, which I’m sure have taken up permanent residence in this rarely used room. I can almost hear them crawling toward me over the old manuscripts. Above all, I don’t like being trapped.
    He fidgets with a ring of keys but doesn’t seem to have the right one. He puts his hand up as if to say “Hold on” and walks off.
    Another ten minutes pass, and I’m getting jumpy. In fact, I’m sweating pretty badly. I press against the window.
Please, someone come back…anyone.
    My face is fogging up the glass when the librarian from downstairs appears in front of me. My heart jumps into my throat.
Holy moly, she scared the crap out of me!
And she didn’t come alone; there’s a small group of spectators forming behind her.
    “Don’t panic. It only makes it worse!” she yells.
    “I’m not!” I lie.
    “Good. They can feel it, you know,” she warns.
    “Who can feel what?” I ask.
    “The ghosts,” she says loudly.
    Involuntarily, I look over my shoulder. Nothing’s there. Of course nothing’s there. What’s wrong with this town? I want to yell that I don’t believe in ghosts, that it was probably Lizzie’s fault the door locked. But by this point I’ve already made enough of a spectacle of myself.
    There’s a low buzzing noise.
A drill?
    “Stand back!” yells the janitor.
    The door vibrates, and within seconds a small metal bit falls near my feet. The door swings open, almost hitting me. I jump out of the way and crash backward into the table, my feet lifting six inches off the ground. I flail my arms wildly to regain my balance. There are gasps from the crowd.
    “Are you all right?” asks the librarian with a bit of drama in her tone.
    “Yeah. Thanks,” I say to her and the janitor. I must look crazy. With all these eyes on me, I half wish I could stay in the dark room until everyone loses interest. I’m slick with sweat, there are little tendrils of hair stuck to my face, and I just threw myself into a table. Much to my disappointment, the watching and whispering crowd has doubled in size.
    I step into the light and I spot John near one of the back rows of people, leaning against a bookshelf. We make eye contact, and my abused nerves go haywire. I don’t think. I just run.

CHAPTER EIGHT
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Something Is Off Here
    “I got a call from the principal today,” says Vivian from the living room doorway.
    I sit cross-legged on the big white couch. Papers and books surround me in