{"product_id":"surrender-the-key-the-library-book-1-isbn-9781101932568","title":"Surrender the Key (The Library Book 1)","description":"\u003cb\u003ePreviously published as \u003ci\u003eCurse of the Boggin\u003c\/i\u003e. A fast-paced, thrilling series opener from bestselling author D. J. MacHale. Check out a book—and unlock an adventure!\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eThere's a place filled with tales that don't have an ending. Puzzles that won't be solved until someone steps in to finish them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEnter the Library.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Marcus and his friends have found the key to open it. And they need to use it, because, clearly, something is up. A strange guy in a bathrobe haunts them; fires rage and flare out in an instant; a peculiar old lady keeps telling them, “Surrender the key. . . .” At first Marcus thinks he’s going nuts, until the mystery gets personal. The Library may hold some answers, but the clock is running out. Because on these library shelves, the stories you don’t finish might just finish \u003ci\u003eyou\u003c\/i\u003e. . . .\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Kids love \u003ci\u003eSurrender the Key \u003c\/i\u003e(The Library, Book 1):\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “A mysterious, hard-to-put-down book with a twisting plot, funny characters, and haunting souls. I can’t wait to hear what adventures they have next.” —A.J. H., age 11\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “I read enough in just one day to fill my school reading log for a week.” —Michael C., age 10\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “A unique, intriguing book filled with page-turning adventures.” —Madeline H., age 12\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Couldn’t put it down. I stayed up reading until 11:00 p.m. with only one thought in my mind: one more chapter!” —Ben H., age 11“MacHale deftly pulls readers into this page-turning adventure . . .defying them to put it down.” —\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Readers who love action and adventure, lightened with a bit of humor, will look forward to meeting Marcus, Lu, and Theo again.” —\u003ci\u003eShelf Awareness\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003eKids love Surrender the Key (The Library, Book 1):\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A mysterious, hard-to-put-down book with a twisting plot, funny characters, and haunting souls. I can't wait to hear what adventures they have next.\" --A.J. H., age 11\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I read enough in just one day to fill my school reading log for a week.\" --Michael C., age 10\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A unique, intriguing book filled with page-turning adventures.\" --Madeline H., age 12\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Couldn't put it down. I stayed up reading until 11:00 p.m. with only one thought in my mind: one more chapter!\" --Ben H., age 11D. J. MACHALE is the author of the bestselling book series Pendragon, Morpheus Road, and the SYLO Chronicles, as well as \u003ci\u003eVoyagers: Project Alpha\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eBlack Moon Rising \u003c\/i\u003e(The Library, Book 2). He has written, directed, and produced numerous award-winning television series and movies for young people, including \u003ci\u003eAre You Afraid of the Dark?, Flight 29 Down,\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eTower of Terror.\u003c\/i\u003e He lives with his family in Southern California. Visit him at djmachalebooks.com.\u003cp\u003eChapter 1\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Use your brains, people, for a change,” Mr. Winser commanded impatiently as he prowled the aisles of third-period social studies class, hunting for his next victim.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWinser had been teaching seventh-grade social studies since before I was born. Maybe before my parents were born. He was a fossil who wore wide ties that were so ugly, I couldn’t tell if the hideous patterns were intentional or just a bunch of stains from spilled food.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Can someone please offer me an intelligent response?” he asked with disdain. “What were some of the negative impacts of evolution between the Homo erectus period and the Homo sapiens period?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWinser spun and pointed his finger at an unsuspecting girl.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Miss Oliver!” he declared.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGwen Oliver sat bolt upright, as if lightning had flown from Winser’s fingertip. Gwen wasn’t a social studies scholar. Or a math scholar. Or any kind of scholar, for that matter. She was the kind of girl who did her best to get through the day without having to think too much. Or at all.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Umm . . . ,” she said, stalling, hoping Winser would move on.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Unacceptable!” he shouted. He said that a lot. “Stand up. Get the blood flowing to that underused brain of yours.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGwen gave him an uncertain look and didn’t budge.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I said stand!” Winser barked.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe stood slowly, with her shoulders slumped, while tugging at her long auburn hair nervously. All eyes were fixed on her. If it wasn’t her worst nightmare, it sure came close.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Now, fill the room with your knowledge. Enlighten us all with your insightful thoughts on evolution.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe might as well have asked her to explain cold fusion.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I . . . I don’t know,” she said in a voice so small that only highly trained rescue dogs could have heard it.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Unacceptable,” he barked. “Have you read the material?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGwen nodded and shrugged.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“What does that mean?” he said, making an exaggerated shrug, imitating her.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGwen shrugged again. She looked ready to cry.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I’ll answer for you,” he said. “You read it, but you didn’t understand it. Would that be accurate?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGwen gave him a sad smile and a weak nod.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Pathetic. Sit!” Winser commanded, as if talking to a dog. “These are not difficult concepts, except to you, maybe.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGwen sat down, both relieved and humiliated. She may not have understood the chapter on evolution, but she sure didn’t deserve to be treated like that.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWinser spun and pointed right at me.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Marcus O’Mara.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI didn’t flinch. I was hoping he’d nail me.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I’m giving you a gift, Mr. O’Mara!” Winser exclaimed. “The underwhelming Miss Oliver is an easy act to follow.” He chuckled at what he thought was a clever remark.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNobody else did.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI stared straight at the guy and didn’t answer.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Well?” Winser said impatiently.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI looked him square in the eye and didn’t say a word.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Did you hear me, Mr. O’Mara? Or are your ears as disengaged as your brain?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI did my best impersonation of a statue.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Should I interpret your silence as proof that you don’t understand the material either?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI gave him nothing. Not a twitch. Not a blink.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWinser fidgeted nervously. He wasn’t used to having kids do anything but tremble in fear when he got in their faces.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I’m waiting for a response, Mr. O’Mara,” Winser said, with a touch of uncertainty.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI stood up, slowly, and walked deliberately to the front of the class. I don’t think anybody was breathing, because the only sounds I heard were those of my own footsteps. I walked to the whiteboard, picked up a marker, and in bold blue letters wrote:\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYOU’RE A TEACHER. TRY TEACHING.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhen I hit the period for emphasis, the class erupted in cheers.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWinser’s face went red with rage. He raised his hands, and the class quieted down, waiting for the next move.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“That buys you two days’ detention,” he said through clenched teeth.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI turned back to the board and wrote:\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAND YOU’LL STILL BE A LOUSY TEACHER.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe class broke out in wild applause and whistles.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI held the marker out toward Winser, stared him down, and dropped it to the floor.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBoom!\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe kids all jumped to their feet and cheered. Even Gwen Oliver joined in, smiling broadly.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThat afternoon, after school, I found myself in an empty classroom, spending the first of five days in detention. I didn’t care. We’re always getting lectures about the evils of bullying. In my opinion, those rules apply to teachers too.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTo be honest, I didn’t hate being in detention. It gave me a chance to do homework. Okay, it forced me to do homework. At least I’d be done and could watch some TV at home. Gotta look on the bright side.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Seriously?” came a voice from outside. “You dropped the marker and did a walk-off?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“You’re out of your mind,” came another voice.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eStanding outside the open window were my two friends, Annabella Lu and Theo McLean.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLu was hard to miss. She was Chinese American, with straight jet-black hair that was blunt-cut to just below her jaw, and bangs that barely cleared her eyes. While most girls wore subtle lip gloss, Lu’s lips were always a shocking red. Her pale skin made them stand out even more, like a talking stoplight. She wore a red plaid shirt over a black T-shirt and cutoff jeans. None of the other girls looked anything like Lu, which was exactly what Lu was going for.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI called her Lu because Annabella had way too many syllables.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“The guy is a tool,” I said with a shrug.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“And now you’re a legend,” Lu said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I don’t want to be a legend.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Then be careful. People might start liking you.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“You’ve set a bad precedent,” Theo said. “Now Winser will be gunning for you all year.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTheo always talked like a professor giving a lecture. He was a black guy who dressed as though he’d just come from brunch at some country club. His shirts and khakis were always ironed as smooth as paper. He wore ties too. Bow ties. Basically, he looked like the kind of guy who would get beaten up every day. The only reason he didn’t was because he had an insurance policy.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMe.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNobody messed with me.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“It’s only October,” Theo said. “There’s a whole lot of seventh grade left.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yeah, for Winser too,” I said. “If he doesn’t lighten up, neither will I.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I don’t like it,” Theo said with a deep frown. “This can only get worse.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Five days of detention,” Lu said. “Was it worth it?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“What do you think?” I asked her.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“What do I think?” Lu asked with surprise. “Do you have to ask? Have we met? Yeah, it was worth it.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Thank you,” I said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Gotta go,” Lu said. “I’ve got practice.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe pushed away and sped toward the sidewalk on roller skates. Lu was a roller-derby girl. Lu-na-tic was her derby name. Perfect. In a flash of plaid and long legs, she was gone.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Do you need anything?” Theo asked.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Jeez, Theo, relax. It’s detention, not prison.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“All righty,” he said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYes, Theo used the phrase all righty a lot. If he weren’t my best friend, I’d probably want to beat him up myself.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, and headed off the other way.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI didn’t have a lot of friends at Stony Brook Middle School. Okay, I had exactly two. Lu and Theo. I wasn’t a group guy. The three of us didn’t care about being on the “popular” track, which meant you had to wear the same clothes as everyone else and make fun of anyone who didn’t conform. We did whatever we wanted because we didn’t care what anybody else thought about us. It was total freedom.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI checked the clock. Twenty minutes left on day number one of my sentence. Piece of cake. I pulled out my earth science textbook and was about to explore the wonders of magma when I got a strange feeling . . . as if I was being watched. I looked back to the window to see if Lu or Theo had come back.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThey hadn’t.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut I wasn’t alone.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI looked toward the open door of the classroom and saw a man standing there, staring at me with a totally blank expression. As if that wasn’t weird enough, he was wearing pajamas and a bathrobe.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt sent a cold shiver up my spine.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“You looking for somebody, chief?” I asked.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eCrash! The sound of breaking glass came from outside in the hallway. It was so loud and so sudden, I actually jumped in my seat.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe guy in the doorway barely reacted. He looked down the hallway to my right, then turned and slowly walked away in the opposite direction.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI leapt up from the desk and ran to investigate. When I peered out the door, into the hall, I shouted after the guy, “Hey! What was that—?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe guy was gone. Huh? He should have been a few feet away, but he was nowhere to be seen. I guessed he must have ducked into the next classroom. Odd.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI looked the other way and saw what had made the crashing sound. Halfway down the hall, a glass trophy case was completely destroyed.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhoa.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Ms. Holden!?” I called out.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHolden was the assistant principal and my detention warden. She had stepped out of the classroom a while earlier to do whatever assistant principals do after school. Wherever she was, she didn’t answer.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI walked the twenty yards to the damage, my sneakers crunching on broken glass as I got closer. The case had held years of trophies and plaques won by long-forgotten teams. The remnants were strewn everywhere. Some were broken in two, others totally mangled. The glass window that had protected it all (ha!) lay in a million tiny pieces on the floor. Whoever had done this wouldn’t get away. The guy in his jammies must have seen it all happen.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI took a step closer and crunched glass again. I jumped back quickly and looked down to see something on the floor that was, in a word, impossible.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTiny bits of glass were scattered everywhere, but directly beneath the case the debris was arranged into a pattern that spelled out words. Actual words, formed by thousands of small glass fragments, like a mosaic.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“ ‘Surrender the key,’ ” I read out loud.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMy mind spun, trying to make sense of it. Could the glass have landed that way randomly? No way. But there hadn’t been time for somebody to set it up.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eCrash!\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe vandal was still at work. The sound had come from around the corner at the end of the hallway. I sprinted toward it, reached the end of the hall, turned the corner, and saw the culprit.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMy knees went weak.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eStanding twenty yards in front of me was a massive black bull.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYes, a bull.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Holy . . .”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe animal swung its head from side to side in agitation, flashing its long, pointed horns. It was an eight-hundred-pound monster that looked more like shadow than substance.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI had no idea how to react until the bull fixed its eyes on me.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe animal stiffened, chuffed, and pounded a hoof on the floor. I had seen enough movies about bullfights to know this wasn’t good. I didn’t dare move for fear of pulling the trigger on the monster and releasing its fury.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOn me.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Mr. O’Mara?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI shot a look to my left to see Ms. Holden standing beyond the classroom I’d just come from. Bad move. As soon as I broke eye contact, the bull charged.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThere was only one thing to do.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eRun.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Move!” I shouted to Ms. Holden as I sprinted toward her.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHolden kept walking closer, looking confused.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“What are you doing?” she asked.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe bull reached the corner behind me, its hooves slashing at the linoleum to maintain traction, but it couldn’t make the turn. It skidded and slammed into the far wall with a huge thud and a pained grunt. The floor shook with the force of impact, but, rather than slowing the beast down, the crash only fueled its rage. It let out a furious bellow that made the hairs go up on the back of my neck. I sprinted through the broken glass in front of the destroyed trophy case, crunching over the gritty surface, fearing I would slip and fall.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe bull was on the move again and closing in fast.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMs. Holden continued walking toward me with her hands out and palms up in a “What is going on?” gesture.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Get out of the way!” I screamed.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe bull let out a chilling howl. I had no idea bulls could howl. I was sure I could feel its hot breath on my neck. No way I could outrun this monster. In seconds I’d be trampled. Or gored. Or trampled and then gored.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Get in the classroom!” I yelled.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI cut the angle and headed for the doorway.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe thundering sound of hooves on the hard floor grew louder. It was going to be close. I braced, ready to feel the points of the bull’s horns stabbing me in the back. I hit the brakes and slid across the waxed floor. For a second I thought I’d overshoot the door, but my sneakers caught, and I threw myself into the room. I instantly hit a desk in the first row and tumbled to the floor in a tangle of books and furniture. I vaguely heard the sound of the enraged bull galloping past the open door like a freight train on its way to another station.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhen I looked up to get my bearings, I saw that I wasn’t alone.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe guy in the bathrobe was back. He stood with his arms at his sides, totally calm in spite of the pandemonium. He reached into the pocket of his bathrobe, took out a brown leather cord, and held it out to me. Hanging from it was a key. An oversized, old-fashioned brass key.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe held it out as if offering it to me.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI got to my knees, my eyes focused on the dangling key that swung in front of my face hypnotically. I reached out to grab it, but when I closed my fingers around the key, my hand passed through it as if it was nothing more than a projection. A shadow. An illusion.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA ghost.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI looked to the guy, questioning. He gave me a sad shrug.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Mr. O’Mara!”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI spun back to see Ms. Holden standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips, looking totally peeved.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eReality had returned.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI jumped up and ran to her, stumbling over books and nearly tripping over the desk again.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Are you okay?” I asked.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Am I okay?” Holden replied angrily. “What in the world is wrong with you?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“What do you think?” I said, incredulous. “The bull!”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yeah, that’s a good word for it,” Holden said with a frown. “Explain yourself.”\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Yearling","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300549644517,"sku":"NP9781101932568","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781101932568.jpg?v=1767737623","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/surrender-the-key-the-library-book-1-isbn-9781101932568","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}