Werewolf Weekend Read Online Free

the book again, shoved it deep into my backpack, and sat there, nervously tapping my foot on the floor until, finally, the bell rang. I had to get through two more periods before I’d have time to investigate—and maybe by then I’d feel calm enough to open the journal again. I told myself to act normal. Act like nothing interesting was going on. It was going to be a long afternoon pretending that I didn’t have a talking book in my backpack, but I could do it.…
    Sam and I were on our way out of class when Mr. McCarthy stopped me. “Hey, Emma, I didn’t know you kept a journal.”
    I was calm. Cool. Perfectly normal. “Just got it today. Thought I’d explore keeping a diary.” I gave him a big grin because everyone knows that teachers love students who do extra, unassigned work at home.
    â€œIt’s a nice book. Unique,” he said. “Where’d you get it?”
    I decided to be honest. “The new librarian gave it to me.”
    His expression was odd. “We don’t have a new librarian. I saw Mrs. Frankle at the staff meeting this morning.”
    â€œAre you sure?” I asked. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I was at the top of a roller coaster, about to drop from the highest point. What was going on? No new librarian? “Maybe it was an assistant?”
    â€œI don’t think so.”
    And with that, my mental roller coaster went over the edge, and I was in a free fall. My stomach flipped over, and I felt wave after wave of nausea.
    â€œAre you sure?” I asked, one last-ditch effort. Maybe he was confused. “Mrs. Frankle was here this morning as in today—
today, this morning
?”
    â€œI’m positive, Emma.” Then, as if he had better things to do, my teacher said, “Well, time to get ready for the next class. Enjoy the journal, Emma. Happy writing!”
    He pulled out a folder and began reviewing his notes. For him, the conversation was over. For me, it had just begun.
    Sam was waiting for me at the door to walk to science together.
    â€œWhat did McCarthy want?”
    As she asked it, I blew past her, down the hall, running like an Olympic athlete into the library. I was out of breath, heart racing, brain on overload, when I shoved open the doors to find…
    Mrs. Frankle sitting at her desk.
    â€œHello, Emma,” she greeted me. “Can I help you find something?”
    â€œWhere’s the new librarian?” I asked in a voice that was way too loud. “The young one with the funky eyes.”
    â€œI’m the only librarian here,” she said in her library voice. “Yesterday, today, and always,” she added with a throaty chuckle.
    â€œWhere’s the cart?” I rotated on my heels to look for the cart with the journals. It was gone.
    â€œWhat cart?” Mrs. Frankle said, coming to me. “The book cart has been broken for a month. A wheel fell off, and it’s not in the budget to fix it.” She was clearly concerned about me. “Sweetie, are you all right? Should I call your mother?”
    â€œDuring recess today, there were journals on a cart right there!” I pointed to the empty spot near her desk.
    My voice was so loud she put a finger to her lips. “Shhh.” Then she whispered, “No, there weren’t. I’ve been here all day. No cart. No journals. No new librarian.” Mrs. Frankle put the back of her hand on my forehead. “Hmmm. I don’t think you have a fever. But to be certain, I think I should walk you to the nurse.”
    I lowered my voice and assured her, “I’m okay. I had a bad dream last night about the library and came to check it out.” I pinched my lips together and added, “Must have been my imagination.”
    Mrs. Frankle laughed and pushed up her glasses, which I realized were the same ones the other librarian had been wearing! “You’re just like your mom. She