Free Groosham Grange by Anthony Horowitz

David.” Jeffrey sounded almost hostile.
    “Look – I just wanted to say I’m sorry about yesterday. All right?”
    “There’s no need to apologize, David.” Jeffrey pulled his shirt on. “Just forget it.”
    In that brief moment David noticed a lot of things. But they all rushed in on him so quickly that he would never be quite sure which came first.
    Jeffrey had changed.
    He didn’t just sound hostile. He was hostile. His voice had become as bleak and distant as all the others.
    He wasn’t stuttering any more.
    And the hand that was buttoning up his shirt was different too.
    It was wearing a black ring.

A LETTER
    On Boxing Day, David sat down and wrote a letter to his father.
    Groosham Grange,
    Skrull Island,
    Norfolk
    26th December
    Dear Father,
    This is a very difficult letter to write.
    It was so difficult, in fact, that he tore up the first sentence three times before he was satisfied and even then he wasn’t sure that he had spelled “difficult” correctly.
    I know that I have always been a disappointment to you. I have never been interested in merchant banking and I was expelled from Beton College. But I now see that I was wrong.
    I have decided to get a job as a teller in the Bank of England. If the Bank of England won’t have me I’ll try the Bank of Germany. I’m sure you’d be proud of me if I were A Teller the Hun.
    He crossed out the last sentence too. Then the bell for lunch went and it was another hour before he could sit down and begin the next paragraph.
    But there is something I have to ask you.
    PLEASE TAKE ME AWAY FROM GROOSHAM GRANGE . It’s not that I don’t like it here (although I don’t like it at all). But it’s not at all what you were expecting. If you knew what it was really like here, you’d never have sent me in the first place.
    I think they are involved in black magic. Mr Kilgraw, the assistant headmaster, is a vampire. Mr Creer, who teaches pottery, religious studies and maths, is dead, and Miss Pedicure, who teaches English and history, ought to be, as she is at least six hundred years old! You’ll think I’m mad when you read this …
    David read it back and decided that he quite possibly was. Could all this really be happening to him?
    … but I promise you, I’m telling the truth. I think they want to turn me into some sort of zombie like they did to my friend Jeffrey. He won’t talk to me any more. He won’t even stutter to me. And I know that if I stay here much longer, I’ll be next.
    David took a deep breath. His hand was aching and he realized that he was clutching the pen so hard that it was a miracle the ink was reaching the nib. Forcing himself to relax, he pulled the page towards him and began again.
    I can’t describe all the things that have happened to me since I got here. But I’ve been stabbed, drugged, threatened and half-scared to death. I know Grandpa used to do all this to you when you were young, but I don’t think it’s fair when I haven’t done anything wrong and I don’t want to be a zombie. Please at least visit the school. Then you’ll see what I mean.
    I can’t post this letter to you because there’s no postbox on the island and if you’ve written to me, I haven’t got it. I’m going to give this to a friend of mine, Jill Green.
    She’s planning to escape tomorrow and has promised to send it to you. I’ve also given her your telephone number and she’ll call you (reversing the charges). She’ll be able to tell you everything that’s happened and I just hope you believe her.
    I must stop now as it’s time for the afternoon lesson – chemistry. We’re being taught the secret of life.
    Help!
    Your son,
    David
    At least nobody had come into the library while he was writing. David had been scribbling the words with one eye on the door and the other on the mirror with the result that the lines had gone all over the place and reading them again made him feel seasick. But it would have to do. He folded the page in half and