Obsidian Pebble Read Free Page A

on a few more boils and let fake blood drip off their stuck-on scars, but soon Ruff had Fangman up on the screen and they began tucking in to Mrs. Chambers’ brilliant food. Ellie enjoyed dipping spoon-shaped bits of bread into the brain pâté more than anything else, while Oz had at least half a dozen freaky fingers. Mrs. Chambers had deliberately put some marzipan in their middles because she knew Oz couldn’t resist it.
    All in all, it was a brilliant night.
    Ellie had them in stitches as she explained how she’d accidentally broken the nose of her taekwondo teacher the week before because he’d sneezed just as she was practising a head kick. Ruff, meanwhile, obviously deeply scarred by spending a week outdoors helping his dad paint the chalets, kept on about how cold he’d been.
    â€œI swear I saw a penguin on the lake, and one morning there was this humongous dollop next to the perimeter fence which looked moistly fresh. I think it definitely must have been polar bear poo and not anything to do with the caretaker’s Alsatian like my dad said it was.”
    â€œUgghh,” Ellie said, and quickly put down the freaky fig roll she was about to bite into. “Why do you have to be so disgusting?”
    Oz didn’t hear Ruff’s response because he was laughing so much. He’d known Ellie since the age of four. They’d attended the same playgroup and were in the same class at Hurley Street Junior School. Gwen and Ellie’s mum, Fay, were friends, so Oz and Ellie had virtually grown up together. He knew he could trust her with just about anything. Funnily enough, despite only knowing Ruff for the seven weeks he’d been at Seabourne County, Oz felt much the same way about him. He only wished that Ellie did, too. But on this Halloween night, he couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be, nor anyone else he’d rather be with.
    They’d all seen Fangman half a dozen times, yet when the ghoul crept into the bedroom to steal the hero’s little sister, Oz thought he saw Ellie inch her chair a little closer to his own. Fangman Two was almost as good and they munched on fried spiders—which were really splayed-out bits of crispy bacon—and slurped on marshmallow eyeballs until the DVD finally came to an end.
    â€œWhat time is it?” said Ellie, stifling a yawn as the credits rolled on the second film.
    â€œFifteen minutes to the witching hour,” Ruff said.
    â€œAnd what’s supposed to happen then?” Oz asked.
    â€œDunno, but that’s when it all happens in the films, isn’t it?”
    â€œMy mum says that the real witching hour is half past three in the morning,” Ellie said knowingly.
    â€œBuzzard,” Ruff retorted, “you’d think they’d all be asleep by then.”
    â€œTell you what,” Oz suggested, “why don’t we turn all the lights off and just sit by the windows? See if we can see anything outside in the moonlight.”
    â€œYeah,” Ruff agreed, hopping uncomfortably. “But first I need the loo. Oh, and we’re out of Coke, by the way.”
    â€œOh, no,” Oz groaned. “I left the other bottle in the fridge.”
    Ruff and Ellie looked at him, grinning expectantly, as he hurried out and down the atrium stairs, muttering to himself as he went.
    â€œAnd while you’re at it, get Revenge of the Gargoyle Ghoul . I left it in your bedroom,” Ruff yelled after him.
    Oz ran back down the staircase, through the kitchen—where his mum had left all the lights on—and went quietly upstairs to his bedroom to fetch the DVD. Ruff’s room was next to his, but on the other side was the locked door to his dad’s study. Oz glanced at it wistfully. It had been like that for over two years now. Ever since his dad had died. One day, when his mother felt strong enough to open it up, he would explore that room and examine all the weird and wonderful