The Xoe Meyers Trilogy (Xoe Meyers Young Adult Fantasy/Horror Series) Read Online Free Page B

dresser, and my bookshelf. The empty wall space above my desk and dresser is consumed by posters from old horror movies. I’m a bit of a horror movie aficionado. I don’t discriminate between old, new, hit movies, B movies, or anything in between.
    My ancient, at least it seemed ancient to me, stereo system rested on the floor beside my desk. At any given time, my room is strewn with the cases of whatever CDs I’m obsessed with at the moment, plus a few books. On the other side of my desk is the door to my bathroom. That is one of the few positives about my room, my own private bathroom. The large picture window in the adjacent wall isn't bad either.
    I reached down to where I had dropped my stuff and pulled my English book out of my backpack, then stood to set it on my desk. First day and we already had an assignment. It was just plain cruel. If I didn’t do the homework now, I would procrastinate until the day it was due. My goal was to do a little better in school this year. The classes weren’t exactly hard for me. It was more a lack of motivation that kept my grades down. There were just so many books that I wanted to read, and none of my school material made the cut.
    I sat down at my desk, my mind still preoccupied, trying to come up with an explanation for the eerie experience in the woods. No matter how I tried to justify what had happened, I kept coming back to the same conclusion: someone or something had followed us, and he/she/it chased us when we ran. The thought briefly crossed my mind that predators will chase you if you run. It’s instinct. They simply can’t help themselves. I suppressed a shiver and stared at my English book for several minutes, then got up and went downstairs. Tomorrow, I’d do it tomorrow. Ri-ight.
    My mom was getting home from work just as I reached the living room. She's a field biologist. I’m not sure exactly what she does, something to do with birds. I tried having her explain it to me once, but when she got to the part about collecting dead bird bodies to study, I decided I was okay with not really knowing what my mom does. Her job takes her out of town a lot, which can be good and bad. I miss her, but having free range of the house does not suck.
    My mom noticed me and gave me a warm smile that reached her chocolate brown eyes. I get none of my looks from my mom. Her dark, wavy hair and tan skin are in sharp contrast to my blonde paleness. I probably look more like my dad, but I never knew him, so I have no proof.
    My mom’s hands were full with what looked like plastic bags of Chinese take-out. My stomach growled as the smell of greasy food hit me. We don’t have the healthiest eating habits, not that I’m complaining. Our main dinners of choice are pizza and Chinese food. If we get bored we occasionally throw in some Indian or, gasp, have a home-cooked meal. On the rare occasion that we decided on home cooking, the task always fell to me. My mom and cooking apparatus of any kind just do not mix.
    My mom took the bags to the rectangular, pale wood dining table, while I grabbed us each a glass of water. See, we’re not that unhealthy, water is good for you. Plus there are usually vegetables in Chinese food. Don’t judge us.
    My mom pulled out a matching pale wood chair, smoothing the skirt of her burgundy cotton dress as she sat. I followed suit, then dug in the bags for the included wooden chopsticks, handing a set to my mom. We took the little cartons of food out of the bags and placed them between us on two woven yellow placemats. My mom watched me with curiosity in her dark eyes.
    “How was your first day?” she asked casually.
    “Eh,” I replied, “same old, same old. I’ve got three classes with Allison, two with Lucy, and one with Brian, so that’s good.”
    My mom smiled. “Any cute boys?”
    Ugh. I sighed, “Must you always ask that question?”
    My mom nodded enthusiastically. “Of course. It’s a mom’s duty.”
    I ignored her question and