Scaredy Kat Read Online Free PDF Page A

you, sweetie? Maybe a foot rub would help.”
    I shook my head and tried to smile.
    “I just need to sleep, Mom,” I said.
    “Okay,” she replied. “Try to drink some of the tea. It will help.”
    “I will,” I told her.
    She had to leave. If she didn’t, if she stood looking down at me for one more minute with that concerned expression on her
     face, I was going to burst into tears. All those spirit orbs that had appeared in the photograph in my room—did she already
     know about them? Did they cluster around her, too? Why was I the only medium in the world who was scared of ghosts? I closed
     my eyes tightly, and tried to shoo the thoughts away.
    “Sleep well, sweetie. Give a shout if you need anything.”
    I nodded, keeping my eyes closed. The telltale creak of the floorboards told me when she had walked out of my room. I lay
     absolutely still. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. That all those spirit orbs contained souls of people
     who were following me, trying to get my attention like a herd of celebrity-chasing paparazzi calling my name with the hope
     I would look their way.
    “Leave me alone,” I whispered.
    I opened my eyes and stared at the candle by my bed. There was a golden halo of light around the flame—a hallmark of beeswax
     candles, so I’m told. On my chest of drawers, the tip of the incense glowed red. Downstairs I could hear quiet music. Everything
     was normal. Everything was safe.
    So why was I still in such a state of panic?
    There’s a lake that I envision when I need to distract myself, or if I can’t sleep. My happy place, if you want to call it
     that. It’s a small lake surrounded by mountains and framed by pine trees. The water is astonishingly clear and warm. The sunlight
     there is more than warm and bright; it is alive somehow. It is intelligent and compassionate. The lake is a place of complete
     safety.
    Even tonight, my lake worked its magic on me. My heart stopped pounding and the feeling of dread started to fade. One moment
     I was feeling the relaxing warmth of the imagined sun, and the next I had drifted off to sleep.
    That’s when the dreams started.
    First I was in a concert hall. Jac was onstage, playing some kind of cello sonata. It was a difficult and emotional piece.
     Jac had long hair which flew about her head as she played. It almost looked like she was wrestling with the cello. I noticed
     someone standing in the wings and realized it was Jac’s mother. Jac continued to play, but I noticed that her hands had begun
     to bleed. The cello seemed to be growing larger—so big that Jac could barely support it. I was afraid the weight of it was
     going to crush her.
    I wanted to call out to Jac to stop playing, but I was afraid. The concert hall was full of people, and Jac’s mother was right
     up there, urging her on. Someone sitting behind me started laughing meanly. I turned around and recognized Brooklyn Bigelow.
     She was one of the “popular” girls from school—the one who had found out my mother was a medium earlier in the school year
     and used the information to try to humiliate me. Your classic mean girl. Brooklyn was pointing at Jac and snickering.
    “She can’t do it,” Brooklyn was saying. “Look at her. She’s going to pieces up there.”
    “Leave her alone,” I hissed. “Just leave her alone!”
    Brooklyn ran a hand through her highlighted hair and laughed. I was afraid to look back on the stage. I was afraid that Brooklyn
     was right, that Jac was literally coming apart onstage. I couldn’t stand to see it happen. I got up and ran up the aisle and
     out of the auditorium. The dream changed.
    I was at my lake. I could smell the pine trees and feel the gentle lake breeze on my face. A hummingbird flew past me, hovered
     nearby for a moment, then whizzed away. The lake itself was luminescent and peaceful. I walked closer to the water’s edge
     and saw a boat in the water, tethered to a tree on the shore by a single