Free The Spindlers by Lauren Oliver

his small, pinched nose and stared at Liza over the top of them, as though she was an expired piece of deli meat in a refrigerator and he was trying to determine whether eating her would give him a stomachache. It was, she thought, very unpleasant to feel like a slice of spoiled turkey. “Let’s hear what the defendants have to say for themselves.”
    Liza swallowed, and opened her mouth. But before she could speak, Mirabella burst out, “Your Honor, this is all a terrible mistake!” The rat sprang to her feet, frantically trying to smooth down a few curls of her dirty skirt. She looked even more pathetic than usual. Thick gobs of mascara streaked her cheeks, and her whiskered chin was trembling. “We got lost, you see, on our way to the troglod market—”
    â€œDon’t listen to the rat!” came the shrill voice of another nid in the audience. “Everyone knows that rats are liars!”
    â€œAnd fools!”
    â€œAnd foolish liars!”
    The courtroom exploded into sound, as the nids began babbling and firing accusations at Mirabella and Liza in turn. Mirabella sank to the bench with a little squeak of misery. Her ears burned bright pink.
    â€œOrder!” Judge Gobbington banged his gavel against the podium, trying to quiet the ruckus. “I said, order in the court!” But if anything, the nids only got louder.
    â€œPlease!” Liza burst out. She was struggling to be heard over the chaos of voices. “Please!” she tried again, with no effect. She took a deep breath, stood up, and tried a third time. “ Please! Listen to me. I’m running out of time. I’m only here to rescue my brother. His soul has been stolen by the spindlers.”
    As soon as she said the word spindlers , complete and total silence fell on the court, except for a few stifled gasps from the audience.
    Judge Gobbington IV put down his gavel. He stared hard at Liza for several seconds, and she forced herself to remain standing, and balled her hands tightly so he wouldn’t see they were shaking.
    â€œWhat do you know about the spindlers?” the judge asked in a hoarse whisper.
    â€œI—I don’t know anything about them,” Liza said. The sudden silence was even more nerve-racking than the eruption of noise. “I know that they’re bad. I know that they have my brother—and, and, that they’re planning to take over everything Below. And I know I have to stop them.”
    â€œAnd you came Below all by yourself?” the judge asked incredulously.
    â€œI was by myself,” Liza corrected him. “Mirabella agreed to help me. She agreed to take me to the spindlers’ nests.” There were more gasps. Liza turned and gave Mirabella a small smile, but Mirabella was once again working her tail between her paws, muttering, “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.”
    The judge removed his glasses. Without them, his eyes were no larger than two small raisins set in the vast floating balloon of his head. And yet, Liza felt she could see herself reflected endlessly inside them.
    â€œAnd you will risk your life in the nests,” the hobgoblin said, “and pit yourself against the queen of the spindlers, to save your brother?”
    Liza swallowed. The way Judge Gobbington IV said it made her plan sound both foolish and hopeless. “Yes,” she croaked out.
    The judge leaned forward. “Why?”
    Liza had not expected the question. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. It was, she realized, a difficult thing to explain. Images of Patrick swirled in her head: Patrick toddling behind her through drifts of snow on their way to skate across Gedney Pond; Patrick all sneezy and sleepy with allergies, dozing next to her in the car on long trips to the Adirondack Mountains; Patrick elbow-deep in mud, trying to gross her out by finding worms; Patrick scanning the yard for gnomes or standing lookout at the riverbed for Sarah Wilkins