Texting the Underworld by Ellen Booraem

Author:Ellen Booraem
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group, USA
Published: 2013-07-29T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

“Quick,” Grump said. “Hide in that broom closet.”

Conor and the others hustled into a large closet three steps down the hall. Grump stayed outside and shut them in. They were in pitch darkness, listening.

“Mr. O’Neill!” It was Angela Timulty, RN. How many hours did she work? “Did you open that roof door?”

“I needed some fresh air,” Grump said. “I feel all closed in.”

“Are you breathing all right? How are your ribs?”

“I’m fine. Here, take my pulse.”

“You need to get back into bed, Mr. O’Neill. You’ll make yourself sick and you won’t be going home in the morning.”

They walked down the hall, their voices retreating. “Dr. Murphy says we’re to let you sleep tonight, but I don’t see you sleeping,” Angela Timulty said. “Didn’t you have a sleeping pill?”

“Yeah, and it’s kicking in. I’ll definitely sleep now.”

“Make sure you do.”

And they were gone.

“How are we going to get to Grump’s room now?” Glennie whispered. “She’ll be watching it like a hawk.”

“I wonder,” Ashling said.

“Wonder what? Keep your voice down.” Conor knew that nothing they’d planned was going to work. They were doomed.

“Take my hand,” Ashling said. “Does this room have ee-let . . . ee-letra . . .”

“Electricity,” Javier said. “Just a second . . . it must be here by the . . . yup.” They all blinked in the blast of light.

Ashling grabbed Conor’s hand, took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and vanished.

Conor felt cold air wash over him. He looked down at himself. He was gone, too—except for his outer sweater, floating in the air, and a pair of empty shoes on the floor.

“Whoa,” Javier said. Conor had to admit, it was pretty cool. He danced his foot around to watch the shoe move by itself. Glennie giggled.

Ashling reappeared, beaming. “If I touch you, you disappear when I do!”

“Whoa,” said Javier. “But . . . what’s with the shoes and sweater? Some part of them must have to be touching Conor’s skin.”

“We’ll take off our socks,” Conor said.

“How will we all connect?” Glennie asked. “We can’t tie me to Ashling’s legs again.”

“It’s only down the hall,” Javier said. “If we’re each touching her hand with one finger it’ll probably work.”

They tiptoed out of the closet and down the little hall to the main corridor, Ashling keeping one arm out straight so Glennie and Javier could both touch it. Conor held her other hand, trying not to blush and grateful to be invisible. He carried his socks and cell phone, and pulled the sleeves of both his parka and outer sweater down over his hands to make sure they touched his skin.

They had to creep along, as they discovered right away when Javier kept losing contact and flickering into sight. It was weird once they made the turn onto the main corridor. Angela Timulty, RN, hurried past them without a glance, and they had to shuffle sideways to avoid a janitor with a big floor buffer. Glennie found it hard to keep touching Ashling’s arm while shuffling, so she winked into view as the janitor passed.

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