Cragbridge Hall, Book One: The Inventor's Secret by Chad Morris Page A

as clear as those we saw when Carol pictured a memory. See how part of it is completely out of focus? As Carol practices more, she will learn to fill in the image with more detail.” She nodded at Carol to continue reading.
    In the next passages Peter, Michael, John, and Wendy whooshed across Carol’s version of London. They flew between chimneys and circled church spires. They were all dressed in their night robes. Abby was surprised when, at a certain point, John shifted his momentum, and his long nightshirt blew up and exposed his underwear. She hadn’t considered how hard it might be to fly in a nightshirt.
    Carol read how the group of children in their pajamas continued to fly and fly. It took days to get to Neverland. They had to snatch food from birds, and they tried not to fall asleep—sleeping could kill them. As soon as they were unconscious, they dropped like stones. Abby had no idea it had been so dangerous to go to Neverland. She had seen a few movies, but they always left that part out. Perhaps she needed to read the book.
    “Not bad, Carol,” Ms. Entrese said. “The book was obviously Peter Pan. Who wrote it?”
    Several in the class answered, “James Barrie.”
    “Yes,” Ms. Entrese said. “I gave you a rather easy one to start. James Barrie, a Scottish novelist and playwright, wrote Peter Pan . Actually, it originally was a play that was adapted into a novel in 1911. It was first titled Peter and Wendy. ”
    Ms. Entrese stood behind a podium near her desk. “The power of literature is its ability to create pictures with words, but those pictures only form in the mind of the reader. The Chair helps us practice our ability to understand literature and grasp the author’s meaning, or at least to solidify our own interpretations.”
    “Abby, your turn,” Ms. Entrese said, pointing to the Chair.
    Why her? Somehow, Abby had known it was coming. She slowly got up and walked to the front of the room. Her heart pounded, and her nerves tingled all over. Was she going to be able to do this? She didn’t have the same type of genius mind as the others. Ms. Entrese handed Abby a book, opened to a page with marked quotations.
    Ms. Entrese spoke to the class. “Robert Louis Stevenson wrote the rough draft for The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde while sick in bed; he finished it in fewer than three days. He revised the manuscript for several weeks, and it was published in the late 1800s.”
    “Now before you begin to read this one, Abby, I should prepare you. It’s a little more complex than a few kids flying through the sky. We will launch right into the text, so you’ll need a few points of reference. The character we’ll read about is a good and respectable scientist. You may want to begin by imagining someone you think is good and respectable, someone you admire and look up to.”
    Almost instantly, Grandpa Cragbridge appeared on the screen behind Abby.
    “Oh,” Ms. Entrese said. Abby saw her teacher’s face flash with surprise and then ... was it contempt? “He is definitely a scientist, just like our good doctor in the story. There are some who would disagree about his ethics and reputation, but this classroom would hardly be the place for that.”
    Abby didn’t know what to think. Everyone she had ever met loved her grandfather and had nothing but compliments and praise for him. Ms. Entrese didn’t seem to be in that camp.
    “Now,” the teacher continued, “you will not want to make him look like Oscar Cragbridge, so maybe change your doctor’s appearance.”
    As Ms. Entrese spoke, Abby reformed her image. A younger doctor began to take shape. He looked taller and stronger than Grandpa.
    “Very good,” Ms. Entrese said. “Now you may begin.”
    As Abby read aloud, her doctor mixed a vial of liquid. It boiled and smoked for a moment before he grabbed it and swished it around. He waited until the smoke dissipated, exhaled, then downed the liquid in one long gulp. As she read on,