The Librarian (Book Two: Unhappily Ever After) by Eric Hobbs Read Free Book Online Page B

shadow. It felt like someone had dropped a veil over the building. Taylor was beginning to feel like someone had dropped a veil over her life.
    "That's not what I meant," Wesley began. "How's he gonna clean up our mess?"
    Hope turned to face them. "What exactly did you two do over there?"
    Wesley pressed his lips together, unwilling to talk.
    "We freed the Tinman," Taylor whispered in shame.
    "What were you thinking?" Hope stabbed Wesley in the chest with an extended finger. "You of all people? I thought for sure you'd have more respect for a story than that."
    "I do!"
    "Oh yeah, I can tell!"
    "It's not his fault!" Taylor raised her voice so it could be heard over their bickering. Both stopped the minute the declaration was off her lips. "Wes told us something like this might happen. Don't yell at him."
    The room fell silent.
    "Can you tell us what happened?" Wesley asked.
    "You played with toys that don't belong to you," Hope sighed. "Stories are like puzzles. Okay? When a writer sits down he has a million ideas. Some of those ideas fit well together, some don't. Not every idea gets used, but eventually, the writer spends enough time playing with the pieces that a picture comes into focus. He starts to understand what his story is about."
    Wesley nodded in agreement. He had a small shoebox in his closet that was filled with stories he'd written, screenplays, even the beginnings of a fantasy novel he planned to finish over summer break. But also in the box, scattered haphazardly throughout, were tiny notes with just a handful of words written on them: his idea slips. Some were story concepts; others were just good lines he wanted to include in his next project; others still were a single word, maybe a place or subject he wanted to tackle in some future work. He'd never thought of them as puzzle pieces, but that seemed an apt metaphor. He usually spent Friday night thumbing through the tiny shreds to decide what he would write about and often found several of the ideas naturally fit together to help create a more complete story.
    "See? Dorothy was meant to kill the Wicked Witch, but if you know the story well enough you know she can't even make it to the Witch's castle without the Tinman's help. You took away one of the most important pieces of the puzzle. So now, all those pieces? All those story elements you know were taken apart and put back together again. Only this time the picture's just a little bit different, isn't it?"
    Hope grinned ruefully, pleased to see her explanation had upset Taylor and Wes.
    "But I'm guessing that's not enough to make you break out my window. Something tells me you aren't the kind to go around vandalizing private property on a whim."
    She saw the kids exchange a look and knew what was being said without hearing the words: Should we tell her?
    "Let me guess," Hope continued. "Things were just a little different out there than you remembered?"
    Another look traded: How the heck does she know that?
    Taylor finally spoke up. "Why would the things we did in Oz affect the real world, too?"
    "They didn't," Hope explained. "The school you left this morning? That isn't your school. The bed you slept in last night? Not your bed. Everything and everyone you've seen since leaving the library doesn't belong to you." She looked through the window at the busy street outside. "Your actions in Oz didn't change anything in our world... they took us to a new one."

PART TWO

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

    LOCKE STOOD ON the beach looking for a smooth stone he could skip across Mermaid's Lagoon. He wouldn't find one, of course. He knew that much. He'd looked for the stone more times than he could count. More times than anyone could count, really.
    Eventually, like always, he dug a rough chunk of stone from the black sand and tossed it into the lagoon. It landed with a splash and sent ripples racing across the water's surface. He stood and watched. Then, right on schedule—
    "Why are you just standing around?"
    Locke turned to