The Pentrals by Crystal Mack Read Free Book Online Page B

mine but come out in Violet’s voice. I manage to form a small smile, surprised at how the muscles feel to perform the act.
    “Well goodness, you gave me quite a scare! I left the room for a second and came back to find you on the floor!” Mrs. Greenwald places her hand on my shoulder. The small gesture brings me comfort.
    “I… I must have… tripped,” I say, awkward in forming sentences out loud. It seems so weird to hear my thoughts outside myself.
    “I must say, I might have tripped myself after taking a look at that!” the teacher chuckles, gesturing toward Violet’s easel.
    “Oh.” I don’t know what to say. I have to agree—the drawing is completely frightening. But I can’t exactly admit that, since if I’m in Violet’s body, then supposedly I drew it.
    “I like that you are taking risks, Violet. All artists go through different periods.” She babbles on about surrealism and other artistic movements and I struggle to concentrate on her words. I try to keep still, though my insides are going crazy. How did this happen? How can it be that I am inside my Person’s body? And if I am in here, then where is Violet? Her essence could not have just disappeared.
    With caution, I place my feet on the floor, keeping one hand on the stool for balance. I am not used to competing with gravity and am surprised at how Violet’s clothing restricts my movements. I’m used to a freedom of motion, creating shapes without external forces weighing me down. But her clothes are so tight it’s a wonder she’s been able to move at all. Her shorts are vice grips around my thighs, making my current efforts all the more challenging. It takes total concentration to keep from falling over; a feather could knock me down. I try to take a step, but misjudge the amount of effort it takes to raise my leg. My knee shoots up in line with my stomach, and the propulsion almost topples me over again. Thankfully, I still have the chair to hold on to before I try again, using less force to lift my foot. I raise it up, then set it down in slow motion, as if walking on eggshells. It’s an improvement, but not exactly natural. And I’m not quite ready to let go of the chair. As I move, the Shadow below stays still, like a black stain on the tile. A terrible thought crosses my mind. Oh no. Could Violet be…
    “So make sure to put away your supplies,” Mrs. Greenwald’s voice drifts back in. “The janitors are looking to lock up for the night. Glad you’re alright. See you in class tomorrow, dear.” She picks up a bag and leaves me alone with my mysterious Shadow.
    “Violet?” I whisper, watching the dark blot for a hint of recognition. It flinches, and I gasp, dropping to the floor in surprise. My knees hit first, and I let out a small pained sound. Ouch. I’m really struggling here. The Shadow shoots across the floor, hiding underneath a supply closet. It seems to take every muscle to crawl over, as I drag this body over the cold, smooth porcelain. So many years I’ve spent on these floors never knowing what they felt like. “Violet?”
    The Shadow peeks out a sliver of black and I lunge forward to touch it. Though I am temporarily in a human body, I am still a Pentral. Maybe I can communicate with her through contact.
    The moment my hand meets the black, Violet’s voice, full of alarm, rings in my head. “What is happening? What have you done to me? What is going on?” she asks all at once. I jump back in shock. We can interact.
    What is happening? I don’t have an explanation. It is not like Violet has never fallen on top of me before. I have witnessed many a skinned knee or rock-climbing fall, but it has never caused us to switch places.
    But I have also never felt anything like the fury that raged through me when Violet picked up the Lifts! tin just moments ago.
    “Violet,” I start, still fumbling to make my thoughts heard outside myself. What am I supposed to say anyway? It has to be scary, lying on the ground