The summoning by Kelley armstrong (books for 8th graders .TXT) π
But now she finds herself in the middle of some really strange situations:
-She suddenly starts seeing dead people.
-She gets locked up in a group home for unstable teens.
-The group home isn't what it seems....
Read free book Β«The summoning by Kelley armstrong (books for 8th graders .TXT) πΒ» - read online or download for free at americanlibrarybooks.com
- Author: Kelley armstrong
Read book online Β«The summoning by Kelley armstrong (books for 8th graders .TXT) πΒ». Author - Kelley armstrong
"Milos!" I screamed. "Watch--"
The last word ripped from my lungs as i slammed against my shoulder belt. The driver behind us, and the one behide him, laid on their horns, a chain reaction of protest. "What?" Milos said. "Chloe? What's wrong?"
I looked over the hood of the car and saw...nothing. Just an empty lane in front and traffic veering to our left, drivers flashing Milos the finger as they passed. "Th-th-th--" I clenched my fists, as if that could somehow force the words out. If you get jammed, take another route, my speach therapist always said. " I thought i saw someone jump in front of us."
Milos eased the taxi forward. "That happens to me sometimes, especially if I'm turning my head. I think i see someone, but there's no one there."
I nodded. My stomach hurt again.
Chapter 2
Between the dream I couldn't remember and the boy I couldn't have seen, I was spooked. Until I got at least one question out of my head, focusing on my Spanish test was out of the question. So i called Aunt Lauren. When i got her voice mail, I said I'd phone back at lunch. I was halfway to my friend Kari's locker when my aunt called back.
"Did I ever live in a house with a basement?" I asked.
"And good morning to you, too."
"Sorry, I had this dream and it's bugging me." I told her what bits I could recall.
"Ah, that would have been the old house in Allentown. You were just a tyke. I'm not surprised you don't remember."
"Thanks. It was--"
"Bugging you, I can tell. Must have been a doozy of a nightmare."
"Something about a monster living in the basement. Very Cliche. I'm ashamed of myself."
"Monster what--?"
The PA system on her end cut her off, a tinny vioce saying, "Dr. Fellows, please report to station 3B."
"That's be your cue." I said
"It can wait. Is everything okay, Chloe? You sound off."
"No, just... my imagination's in overdrive today. I freaked Milos out this morning, thinking I saw a boy run in front of the cap."
"What?"
"There wasn't a boy. Not outside my head, anyway." I saw Kari at her locker and waved. "The bell's going to ring so--"
"I'm picking you up after school. High tea at the Crowne. We'll talk."
The line went dead before I could agrue. I shook my head and ran to catch up with Kari.
School. Not to about it. Poeple think art schools must be different, all that creative energy simmering, classes full of happy kids, even the Goths as close to happy as their tortured souls will allow. They figured art schools must have less peer pressure and bullying. After all, most kids there are the ones who get bullied in other schools.
It's true that stuff like that isn't bad at A.R Gurney High, but when you putkids together, no matter how similar they seem, lines are drawn. Cliques form. Instead of jocks and geeks and nobodies, you get artists and musicians and actors.
As a theater art students, I was lumped in with the actors, where talent seemed to count less then looks, poise, and verbal ability. I didn't turn heads, and I scored a fat zero on the last two. On the popularity scale, I ranked a perfectly mediocre five.The kind of girl nobody thinks a whole lot about.
But I'd always dreamed about being in art school, and it was as cool as I'd imagined. Better yet, my father had promised that I could stay until I graduated, no matter how many times we moved. That meant for the first time in my life, I wasn't the "new girl." I'd started at A.R Gurney as a freshman, like everyone else. Just like a normal kid. Finally.
That day, though, I didnt feel normal. I spent the morning thinking about that boy on the street. There were plenty of logical explanations. I'd been staring at his lunch box, so I'd misjudged where he'd been running. He'd jumped into a waiting car at the curb. Or swerved at the last second and vanished into the crowd.
That made perfect sense. So why did it still bug me?
Publication Date: 06-20-2010
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