Scaredy Kat Read Online Free PDF

white cord. There was someone in the boat. A small
     figure with soot-colored hair.
    It was Tank.
    I waded into the water, trying to get closer to him. The lake seemed to be expanding behind him. It was transforming itself
     into something huge, like an ocean. As the lake grew, the white cord stretched taut. The little boat rose and sank on waves
     that were growing increasingly larger.
    I waded deeper. Somehow in the dream I knew I had to get to Tank before the cord broke and he was swept away from the shore.
     I had to get to him soon, or it would be too late. I struggled through the water. The sand fell away from beneath my feet.
     I was in over my head.
    I heard something snap. The cord had broken, and the waves were carrying the boat away.
    “Tank!” I called.
    But I couldn’t get to him. The boat grew smaller and smaller. I was treading water, and the waves were beginning to wash over
     my head. I had to swim back. I turned toward the shore. It was gone. There was nothing but water in every direction.
    I woke up kicking and breathless, but I was safe in my own bed. The room had grown dark while I was asleep.
    The candle, for some reason, had gone out.

Chapter 5
    Jac called the next morning.
    “You’re back!” I exclaimed. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. I’m going off my nut around this house. You need to
     rescue me.”
    There was a pause.
    “So what’s going on?” I asked.
    “I need to get out of here,” Jac said. “I need to go somewhere where there are no musicians and no parents, and there are
     plenty of sweet, caffeinated drinks, and brownies the size of phone books.”
    “Can you get out of the house now?”
    “Not even an act of God could stop me,” Jac said. I noticed she was speaking very quietly, like she didn’t want anyone to
     hear her. I imagined that Jac’s mother trying to block the front door might be considered an act of God.
    “I could meet you downtown. At the Bean Factory?” I asked, referring to our local version of Starbucks. I wanted to get away
     from my house, too.
    “I can be there by ten thirty,” Jac said. Now she was really whispering. “And promise me something, Voodoo Mama. For the first
     sixty minutes at the very least, swear you will not ask me about the conference, or mention the cello, or any stringed instrument.”
    “I swear,” I said.
    “Gotta hop,” Jac whispered.
    The line went dead.
    Whatever was going on with Jac, it sounded serious. But I couldn’t help feeling a sense of overwhelming relief. This was exactly
     the distraction I needed—and a reason to get out of the house and away from messages on windowpanes and clusters of spirit
     orbs.
    I dressed quickly, dragged a brush through my dark tangles, and stared at myself in the mirror. There were circles under my
     eyes, not surprising since I’d had trouble getting back to sleep after my dreamfest. I put on a pair of my biggest, most dangly
     silver earrings to divert attention from the puffy circles. Makeup just wasn’t an option. My mother never wore it, and the
     few times I’d tried it on, I’d felt like a clown.
    The kitchen was empty, though my mother had left some freshly baked muffins out for me. I stuck my head around the door and
     could see that her office door was closed, meaning she had a client in for a spirit reading. Occasionally, my mother’s sessions
     caused strange things to happen in the rest of the house—a sort of paranormal ripple effect. This was one morning that I categorically
     did not one to see one speck of supernatural activity, so I scrawled a note telling my mom where I was going and grabbed a
     muffin for the bus ride. I stopped in the living room to kiss Max, promised I’d take him for a long walk later, and presented
     him with a chunk of muffin.
    I closed the front door quietly, the unfamiliar car in the driveway reminding me that my mother had someone in a session.
     I was on the sidewalk heading in the direction of the bus stop when I