Another Me Read Online Free Page B

off.’
    Once again everyone laughed. She was desperate to replace me. So she could show Donald what a wonderful Lady Macbeth she would make. That thought alone made me determined to try harder.
    â€˜I’ll get it right, sir. I promise,’ I assured him and he smiled.
    â€˜I’m sure you’ll do your best.’
    This caused another snigger from Monica and I heard Dawn snap at her, ‘Jealousy’s a terrible thing, Monica.’
    Donald drew me aside. ‘I’ll tell you what, Fay. I have the video of
Macbeth
– it’s in my briefcase in the staff room. You go and fetch it. Take it home and have a look at it. It might help you.’
    As I left the auditorium he was calling out for the three witches to go over their scene with Macbeth and I could feel Monica’s unsmiling eyes follow me even after I’d closed the door.
    It was strange being in the school at night, in the dark. Strange and eerie. The lights from the auditorium shone into the corridor from its high windows, but apart from that the corridor was gloomy.
    Gloomy and silent except for my footsteps, and the faraway sound of my classmates’ voices. I pushed through the swing doors which led to the next corridor and as they swung to behind me I realised it was even darker in here. Far away, too far now for comfort, I could hear the rantings of the three witches, Dawn and Kaylie making the most of their parts. I stopped and glanced back. The doors swung back and forth, back and forth . . . almost as if someone had steppedthrough them a second behind me.
    And all at once I was afraid again, and I didn’t know why.
    I was in my own school. I spent almost every day here. Nothing to be afraid of here. Yet, I watched mesmerised as the doors swung back and forth as if I was waiting for—
    Nonsense! I stamped my foot. I was just being silly. I will not be afraid, I told myself. And I turned round, saw it, and screamed.
    How stupid can one person be? It was only my reflection. A dark image on a classroom window. I let out my breath in a long relieved sigh. Light. I needed light. There would be nothing to be afraid of in the light. I found the switches and threw them on. A long string of lights beamed down the corridor to the staffroom. Better. So much better. My steps even sounded more confident as I clicked along.
    In the staffroom, I immediately switched on the light there too.
    Donald’s battered leather briefcase lay half open on the floor. I lifted it up and held it against me. Nothing strange here, I told myself, looking round at the posterson the wall. Mel Gibson, and Homer Simpson, a cartoon of the headmaster. Not unlike the posters we all kept in our lockers. Ordinary, safe, normal.
    Suddenly, the light went out, plunging the staffroom into darkness. A blown light bulb, I told myself, refusing to be frightened. I took a step back into the corridor and closed the door.
    I had only taken one step towards the swing doors when the light above me went out too.
    One bulb, that could be an accident, but two? I ran as I passed beneath the next light.
    It went out, too.
    And the next.
    Now, I
was
frightened. What was happening?
    I ran, breathing hard. Above me, the next dim light was extinguished. My breath began to catch. I was really afraid now, because surely I could hear footsteps behind me. I glanced back quickly but all was pitch dark, a tunnel of blackness reaching down the corridor.
    Nothing.
    And yet . . . wasn’t that a movement? There in the shadows. Something. I didn’t want to find out what. I ran even faster, feeling as if the darkness itself was chasing me as, one after another, each light went out above me.
    Then I heard them. No mistaking it now. Footsteps were coming up behind me in the blackness.
    I had to reach the swing doors. Beyond them was light, the school auditorium, other people.
    It was as if I was in a dream, a nightmare. Running but getting nowhere. As if the swing doors were