Graveyard Slot - Michelle Schusterman (best ebook reader for laptop .txt) 📗

THIS ONE’S FOR THE THING THAT’S ALWAYS IN THE MIRROR BEHIND YOU—MS

GROSSET & DUNLAP

Penguin Young Readers Group

An Imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

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Text copyright © 2016 by Michelle Schusterman. Cover illustration copyright © 2016 by Stephanie Olesh. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

eBook ISBN 9780515156478

Version_1

CONTENTS

TITLE PAGE

DEDICATION

COPYRIGHT

CHAPTER ONE: THE BRIDESMAID OF FRANKENSTEIN

CHAPTER TWO: THE OTHER DAUGHTER

CHAPTER THREE: THE LETHAL BITE OF THE INTERNET TROLL

CHAPTER FOUR: THE ONLY THING MISSING IS A MANIAC WITH A CHAINSAW

CHAPTER FIVE: ONE CAMPER ENTERS THE CAVE, BUT HOW MANY WILL COME OUT?

CHAPTER SIX: DON’T SIT TOO CLOSE TO THE SCREEN

CHAPTER SEVEN: STICKS AND STONES MAY BREAK MY BONES . . .

CHAPTER EIGHT: . . . BUT WORDS CAN ALWAYS HURT ME

CHAPTER NINE: THE GIRL IN THE MIRROR

CHAPTER TEN: THE OTHER DAUGHTER RETURNS

CHAPTER ELEVEN: EXORCISE YOUR WAY TO BETTER HEALTH

CHAPTER TWELVE: A DEADLY CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: UGLY LITTLE LIARS

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: THE OTHER DAUGHTER . . . NOW IN 3-D!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: IT’S BAAAAACK!

EDIE MILLS WIKI PAGE

CHAPTER ONE THE BRIDESMAID OF FRANKENSTEIN

Rumorz

All the celebrity gossip you need (and then some)!

What’s Next for P2P? by Shelly Mathers

Fright TV’s Passport to Paranormal had a close encounter of the crazy kind last week while shooting an episode in an abandoned Brussels prison. Filming was interrupted when former host Emily Rosinski burst in, attacking her old flame (and the show’s psychic medium) Sam Sumners. And if the most obsessive fans are to be believed, the show was dealing with a rather nasty spirit they picked up in Rotterdam. Unfortunately, viewers didn’t get to see a lot of the action in last night’s episode (although the show enjoyed its highest-ever ratings, thanks to all the buzz). But many fans are getting their behind-the-scenes fix on a blog run by host Jack Sinclair’s daughter, Kat. Are her creepy photos and spooky stories fact or fiction? This reporter doesn’t care, so long as it’s entertaining.

PIRATE ghosts and knife-wielding stalkers are nothing compared to the nightmare that is shopping for bridesmaid dresses. Those things are the worst kind of villain. That empire-waist halter looks so pretty and innocent on the hanger, luring you into a false sense of security—until you’re locked in a dressing room together with no escape route. Then it turns on you, strangling your neck with its scratchy lace and digging its beads into your flesh, cinching too tight around your waist but hanging all loose in the chest like it’s mocking you. Hey, I look great on that bridal-magazine model! Maybe I’m not the monster here.

My mom dragged me to five different dress shops last week. Her soon-to-be-stepdaughter Elena paraded around in poofy flower-girl dresses and screamed like a vampire’s victim until the attendants let her try on the sparkly tiaras and necklaces locked up in glass cases, while I fought countless satin monstrosities. And my mom, a professional photographer, documented every grim moment with her camera. Flash! A-line Abomination. Flash! Evil Empire Waist. Flash! The Bustier of Despair. It was Nightmare on Chiffon Street, starring Kat Sinclair.

The worst part? I never even agreed to be in the wedding.

When Mom tried to ask if I’d be a bridesmaid over the phone a few weeks before, I changed the subject. She never asked again. Instead, she acted like I agreed to do it. That’s how my mom operated: She pretended everyone was totally on board with whatever she did and left it to them to say otherwise. That way she could do whatever she wanted without worrying about other people’s feelings, and somehow they were the ones stuck feeling guilty when they finally spoke up.

And I fell for it every time. There I was, boarding a plane to Miami with my dad after two weeks in Chelsea, Ohio, and I still hadn’t told Mom I’d rather be the bride of Frankenstein than a bridesmaid at her wedding.

“Window or aisle?” Dad asked, cramming his massive duffel bag into the overhead bin. I responded by ducking under his arm and flopping down next to the window. Our seats were right over the wing, which made me miss Grandma. (Her favorite episode of The Twilight Zone was about a guy who kept seeing a gremlin on the wing of the plane during his flight. We’d binge-watched a few seasons last weekend.)

After tucking my backpack under the seat in front of me, I pulled my iPod out of my pocket and started untangling the headphones. Two-and-a-half-hour flight to Miami; almost eight hours of horror movies to choose from. Of course, after Miami came a nine-hour flight to Brazil. But I figured I’d sleep at least a few hours since it was an overnight flight. Not too much, though—ghost hunters didn’t exactly keep normal sleeping schedules.

While the flight attendants went over the usual safety stuff, Dad distractedly scrolled through e-mails on his phone. I wondered how he felt about returning to hosting Passport to Paranormal. He really loved the job, but I knew he still felt guilty about what happened back in Brussels. Like it was his fault the show’s first host showed up and attacked me.

Terrifying? Yes. But hey, it turned out to be great for P2P’s ratings.

Dad pocketed his phone as the flight attendant passed by, checking our seatbelts. When the plane began pulling away from the gate, he turned to me and cleared his throat.

“Kat, there’s something we need to talk