Rockstar Book Tours presents... THE SQUIRE AND HIS MAGICAL LIBRARY by Christy Matheson - EXCERPT + GIVEAWAY!

Fans are raving as the prequel to The Castle in Kilkenny: Fairy Tales Book’s, THE SQUIRE AND HIS MAGICAL LIBRARY by Christy Matheson makes its way to readers everywhere, and I'm excited to have the chance to share the news!

 If you haven’t yet heard about this wonderful book, be sure to check out all the details below!

This blitz also includes a giveaway for copies of the eBook courtesy of Christy & Rockstar Book Tours. So if you’d like a chance to win, check out the giveaway info below.

 

Title: THE SQUIRE AND HIS MAGICAL LIBRARY (The Castle in Kilkenny: Fairy Tales Book 4)

Author: Christy Matheson

Pub. Date: May 25, 2025

Publisher: Buttercup Books

Formats: eBook

Pages: 188

Find it: Goodreads, https://books2read.com/The-Squire-and-His-Magical-Library

What if he doesn’t have to be a warrior?

What if fate is something he can choose?

Despite the druids’ prediction that Rian would become a great warrior, he hates the king’s training program. After the first year’s Trials, humiliated and angry, Rian flees the other squires to hide in the cellars...where he finds a magical library and a wren-like Fae who explains that he can choose his own fate. Each year, one figurine crumbles and one possible fate disappears because of the choices he's made. He should be able to make the Warrior disappear before he turns eighteen, right?

Meanwhile, Rian helps two very different princesses—one bent on becoming a warrior to seek revenge, and the other imprisoned by blindness. As Rian’s decisions become entangled with his friendships, the figurines vanish one by one. As the years go by, does he have any choice left about his own future?

Read now, to journey back to 3rd-century Ireland with a reluctant young hero! 

With characters based on Irish mythology, this historical fantasy has plenty of action but no gore.  

It takes place in the same world as the other “Castle in Kilkenny” books, but is the earliest book featuring these characters, so is a true stand-alone.

 Start your journey with the prequel and then grab the rest of the series here!

 

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Excerpt:

I guess I can’t get much more lonely and shameful than I already am.

The door swings smoothly at my touch, and warmth hits me as the light makes me blink.

No one’s here. And it still feels welcoming.

I hobble to the fire and sink onto the soft chair. Whoever owns it isn’t using it, and I’ll leave soon. After a long moment, I open my eyes. At my fingertips is a steaming cup and a jar of salve.

I sniff them both. The castle policy is that anyone is allowed appropriate supplies. I’m a warrior, even a junior one. I am definitely allowed to take medicine.

I rub the salve on the worst of my injuries. It works even faster than usual, the pain fading right away.

So by the time I drink the tea, I’m feeling well enough to look around. Carefully.

I warm my hands against my tea, feeling more alert with each sip. The patterns on the rugs seem familiar, but the construction is softer and denser than anything else in the castle. I understand what the furniture is for, but the shapes and materials are like nothing I’ve ever seen. The mantle is constructed of absolutely smooth stone, gray and red veins swirling against the white, and the ironwork for the fireplace is more delicate and complicated than anything the king’s smithy could produce. The light is coming from tall vases with colored glass hats, and the hats are glowing. I examine one closely, and find a little toggle that makes the flame go on and off. Definitely magic. Besides, even a king couldn’t afford that much glass, and he wouldn’t put it in the basement if he did.

I’m not sure if that’s better or worse. Are there fae living underneath the castle?

Well, I’m here now, and I’ve already drank and used their medicine—so if it’s a magical trap, I’m already caught.

 

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About the author...

Christy writes romantic Regency fiction about friendship, family, and finding one's place in an ever-changing world.

Christy is an embroidery artist, classically trained pianist, and sews all of her own clothes. She lives in Oregon, on a country property that fondly reminds her of a Regency estate (except with a swing set instead of faux Greek ruins), with her five children, two Shelties, a bunny, and an improbable amount of art supplies.

She is a co-editor for the short story anthology, Feisty Deeds: Historical Fictions of Daring Women, and her novels are represented by Kristina Sutton Lennon of Focused Artists. She is also an award-winning spoken-word poet.

She has degrees from Smith College and Lesley University, and is a member of the Women's Fiction Writers Association, Historical Novel Society, and Regency Fiction Writers.

Sign up for Christy’s newsletter!

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads | Amazon | BookBub

 

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Giveaway Details:

3 winners will receive an eBook of THE SQUIRE AND HIS MAGICAL LIBRARY, International.

Ends June 3rd, midnight EST.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Rockstar Book Tours presents... SPELLBINDERS: THE NOT-SO-CHOSEN ONE by Andrew Auseon - EXCERPT + GIVEAWAY!

I've got some EXCITING news! The paperback of SPELLBINDERS: THE NOT-SO-CHOSEN ONE by Andrew Auseon is available now and if you haven’t yet heard about this wonderful book, be sure to check out all the details below. I know I want to check out it.

This blitz also includes a giveaway for a signed copy of the book & swag courtesy of Andrew & Rockstar Book Tours. So if you’d like a chance to win, check out the giveaway info below.

 

Title: SPELLBINDERS: THE NOT-SO-CHOSEN ONE

Author: Andrew Auseon

Pub. Date: May 14, 2024

Publisher: Yearling

Formats:  Hardcover, Paperback, eBook, Audiobook

Pages: 448

Find it: Goodreads, https://books2read.com/SPELLBINDERS-THE-NOT-SO-CHOSEN-ONE 

"Ben may only be pretending to be the 'Chosen One'—but I’ve definitely chosen this one as my favorite new fantasy series.”
—Max Brallier, #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Last Kids on Earth series

How far would you go to play the hero? One seventh grader gets way more than he bargained for when he is swept into the fantasy quest of his gaming dreams in this funny illustrated series full of adventure and twists.

It’s not so easy being the Chosen One (or in Ben Whitlock’s case, pretending to be the Chosen One). Sure, when you’ve been mistaken for a long-prophesied hero by a teenage girl/mysterious assassin and transported to a fantasy realm you're supposedly destined to save, you don’t have to worry about things like math homework. But when flying narwhals are trying to blast you into oblivion (gulp) and a bunch of old mystics in flip-flops want you to enter something called the Gullet of Eternal Torment (double gulp), suddenly a C in algebra doesn’t seem like such a big deal.

Back in the real world, Ben preferred to escape into fictional adventures and role-playing games. But the more he learns about his true quest, the more he realizes that being a hero goes way beyond rolling a few dice. . . .

Reviews:

“Spellbinders hooked me from the beginning, but it became one of my favorites around the first flying narwhals.'“—James Riley, New York Times bestselling author of the Story Thieves series

"Here comes a new series that brilliantly embodies the power of creativity....The book’s immersive fantasy world of Lux is one I did not want to leave."—George Jreije, author of the Shad Hadid series

"To use the local parlance, a “ridonkulously” entertaining kickoff." —Booklist

"The themes of interpersonal relationships and change give the work emotional heft...A love letter to escapism and writing one’s own destiny." —Kirkus Reviews

"Through subversions of familiar fantasy tropes and a thoroughly engaging plot, Auseon conjures an idiosyncratic realm replete with endearing characters, madcap humor, and hijinks-filled adventure"— Publisher’s Weekly

 

Book Trailer:

Excerpt:

1

Life with Biscuit

“Did you just call me an Ogre Lord?”

“Huh?”

A chair squeaked. “Ben? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

Outside in the nearest tree, a small bird chirped joyously, and somewhere far away on the recess field, a kickball boinged. Shouts and clapping. A potted plant on the principal’s sunny windowsill died of thirst, inches from a full pitcher of water.

There was no Ogre Lord. This was not a dungeon throne room.

Across from Ben sat Mr. Sandusky, the principal of Sweet Air Middle School, and a man with far too many photos of his dog on his desk. It was like a shrine to a potbellied, bug-eyed pug named Biscuit--a name that Ben knew because Biscuit was usually photographed wearing expensive sweaters with his name on them.

“You looked far away,” Mr. Sandusky said with a smile.

Ben blinked, taking in his surroundings. Real life, in all its boring sameness. Room B12, the principal’s office. It was 3:15 p.m. on another Friday. “Yeah, sorry,” he said, feeling a rush of color in his cheeks.

The kids outside shouted and laughed, and he’d never felt more alone.

“Tell me, Ben,” said Mr. Sandusky, leaning forward with his elbows on the edge of his desk. “How are you doing?” A single strand of hair crossed from one side of his pale bald head to the other, like a crack in an eggshell. On one of his bookshelves sat a framed photo of Biscuit in a stroller. The principal seemed like a nice guy, but it was sometimes tough to take him seriously.

Ben would have preferred the Ogre Lord.

“It’s been six months since you came to us,” Mr. Sandusky said, “and I’d like to think you’re settling in.” His fake smile turned upside down. “But I’ve talked to your teachers, Ben, and they’re worried about you. They say you don’t pay any attention in class and don’t talk to any of the other students in the halls. They say that you spend all your time doodling in your little notebooks.”

Ben tried to explain. “When I get ideas, I have to write them down.”

“What about making friends? How is that going?”

“I’ve already got friends,” Ben said. “But they’re back home. I’m sort of the leader, the one who keeps the group together. Well, I was, until we moved.”

“Who’s the leader now?” Mr. Sandusky asked.

“It’s called a Quest Master,” Ben said, “and the new Quest Master is my friend Big Barry.”

“Why is he called that?”

“Because he’s bigger than Regular Barry.”

“I see.”

Ben sighed. “I don’t really need to make new friends here because we’re not going to stay in Sweet Air.”

Mr. Sandusky’s eyebrows jumped. “Oh, you’re not staying?”

“I have a feeling this whole move won’t last very long,” Ben said with a shake of his head. If he said it enough times, he might actually start to believe it.

“Well . . . ,” Mr. Sandusky began, rubbing his hands together. “Six months is a long time.”

“Maybe. But why make new friends when I’ve got a great group back home?”

“Okay. That’s fair. Do you still see them a lot?”

Glancing away, Ben felt his face flush. “Not a lot. Not right now. I mean, it’s been a while since we’ve had a chance to hang out, but I’m seeing them tonight, actually. They promised.”

“Tell me,” Mr. Sandusky said. “When you and your friends get together, what do you do for fun?”

“Games, role-playing games, mostly.”

“A role-playing game. Is that like playing pretend? Like, with imaginary friends?”

Ben grumbled. “No. I’m talking about Kingdoms of Forever, the fantasy game. It was created a long time ago, like, in the nineteen-somethings. It’s pretty famous. You play with a group of friends. Um, not imaginary ones. The real kind.”

“And you play Kingdoms of Forever with them?”

“I used to, back home,” Ben said, flinching at the words back home, which he found himself saying much too often. “We played every week. They were my party. That’s what they call the group you adventure with--a party.”

“Neato. Parties are fun.”

“Once, my friend Wanda’s character got turned into seaweed.”

“Exciting!” Mr. Sandusky said, but in that voice adults use when they’re making you feel good about something they think is a waste of time. “Maybe you could meet some kids here who play? Start a new game group?”

Ben shook his head. “I’ve already got a party. We call ourselves the Five of Legend.” Leaning over, he unzipped his backpack and dug inside. “But until I go back home, I’ve been working on making my own game, as practice.”

“You’re making a game?” Mr. Sandusky asked, brightening. “Wow. That’s so cool. Does it have a name?”

“Not yet.” Ben pulled a large notebook out of his backpack and set it on his lap, trying to keep it balanced, as stray scraps of paper fluttered to the office floor. A shooting star was branded into the fake-leather cover.

Mr. Sandusky’s eyes widened. “Wow. What’s all that?”

Ben grinned. The notebook had been a gift from his dad, and he carried it with him everywhere. Last time he’d checked, he’d filled 541 of its 600 pages. Inside, he kept scattered notes on his new fantasy game, all the ideas he’d been recording since last summer: maps; monster descriptions; long, cool character backstories; complex family trees; and, most important, all the rules of how to play. It was more than a story, it was a whole world, and it was the only place where he felt in control.

“I can see that you’re passionate about this,” Mr. Sandusky said, scrunching up his face so that he bore a remarkable resemblance to Biscuit. “But you can’t work on your game in class, and you can’t ignore your teachers. You won’t make any friends if you avoid the other students.”

“I’m not avoiding--”

Smiling, Mr. Sandusky leaned over his desk. “Listen. I know you’re new here, and I know we don’t know each other that well. But I can see that you’re a smart kid. Very smart. You’ve got so much potential. How can we help you learn if you’re always distracted, always somewhere else in your head? You can’t succeed in life if you don’t take it seriously sometimes, if you don’t set goals for yourself.”

Ben had been in enough of these meetings to know what to expect. Especially when the principal, teacher, or guidance counselor started pulling out words like potential and goals. He was twelve. His goals should be playing laser tag with Wanda and Dee Dee, or brainstorming the best way to melt an Ice Dwarf, or scavenging for turkeys online with strangers in Smash Royale. He should enjoy life, like Biscuit in his little stroller.

“Can I go home now?” he asked. “It’s Friday.”

“Got some big Friday plans?” Mr. Sandusky asked.

“I’m going to the Fantasy Fandom Convention downtown. My friends are supposed to meet me. We do it every year.” He didn’t mention that Wanda, Dee Dee, Big Barry, and the Pooch hadn’t been returning his texts, or if they did, the responses always seemed to be one-word bursts, like “sweet,” “vibe,” or “chill,” and nothing important.

Although his recent text messages had gone unanswered, Ben wasn’t worried. He and his friends had attended every annual Fan Fan Con since their first trip back in fourth grade, for Wanda’s birthday, when the movie series Toxic Freaks had turned the entire convention floor into a working sewer system. The convention started as Ben’s idea, something special he and his father had done together every spring since he was a little kid, back when they’d been a family.

Fan Fan Con was the Midwest’s largest gathering of fantasy fiction and gaming enthusiasts, founded in 1982, where the keynote speakers were William Dalton and J. S. Profit, the creators of legendary role-playing game Kingdoms of Forever. Ben would have given anything to attend that first convention, but it was held thirty years before he was even born, so unless somebody invented a time machine, he’d have to settle for the current version, which was still his favorite day of the year.

Mr. Sandusky stood up. “Good for you, Ben. I hope it’s fun. But do me a favor and try not to be back here again next week. All right?”

“I’ll try,” Ben said.

They shook hands for some reason, like they’d been having a business lunch. The principal’s hand felt like a chicken thigh from the grocery store--soft and cold, pressed tight against the plastic package.

Outside, Ben took a deep breath, relieved to have once again survived a duel with the principal of Sweet Air Middle School. A few seconds later, the final bell rang and doors flew open, spilling rowdy students into the empty hallway. Ben made straight for the exit, brain starting to rev up again, bursting with ideas for his notebook: spells (Fog of the Mind-Bender, Dark Malarkey), monsters (Knot of Tentacles), and magical items (Hover Pants), all of them inspired by his daydreaming.

He caught the bus at the corner by the cell phone store, taking the F40, which started in the outer suburbs and ended in the center of downtown. After his parents’ divorce, Ben and his mom had moved to Sweet Air, a small town twenty miles outside the city. Sweet Air’s claim to fame was Gas Monster™, a popular medicine that helped with stomachaches . . . and turned your poop white.

The bus was mostly empty. An old lady with a goldfish in a clear plastic bag sat near the front, across from a pair of guys outfitted in green cloaks and pointy ears, headed to Fan Fan Con. Far back in the last row of the bus lounged a teenage girl with purple hair that fell in waves and curls down her back, another fangirl on her way to the convention. Nobody paid Ben any attention at all.

He checked his phone: 3:48. Plenty of time. His last text still glowed in the ongoing chat between him, DD, WANDA, BBARRY, and DE POOCH.


C YA AT THE SPOT. FANFANCON! DON B LATE.


Opening his notebook, Ben settled down in his seat and began to draw the first thing that came to mind, and, as always, the rest of the world seemed to melt away.


The Butt-Doodle Bench


When the F40 approached Lamplighter Avenue, Ben pulled the cord to signal his stop, and got off in front of the old public library. A pair of tall owl statues loomed on either side of the library steps, watching the sidewalk suspiciously. He cut behind the building to the large park in back, which overlooked a broken fountain and a colorful carousel that groaned and sagged when it turned. Little kids raced around a playground sprayed with graffiti, and moms and dads pushed strollers along the overgrown paths. Not one of them pushed a dog in a sweater.

When he lived in the city, Ben and his friends came to this park to meet and hang out. They’d even marked their favorite old bench with a collection of gum wads and butt doodles, as if they were a secret society casting a spell that kept everybody else away. When he sat in that spot overlooking the carousel, the world around him felt normal again. Like he was himself. Like nothing had changed.

He sat down and checked his phone: 4:30. Right on time. He tapped a text:


D D, I’M HERE. CALL ME. WOOOOO! CON TIME!


As he waited for a response, he tried to distract himself from the fact that he hadn’t gotten many replies in the last few days, and the ones he’d received didn’t exactly share his level of enthusiasm.

Like, from Dee Dee:


NOICE. BUT WE SHUD TALK THO.


Or the Pooch:


CON TIME! YES. DID WANDA TELL YOU HER IDEA?


And the final message from Wanda, arriving just that morning:


DON’T BE THAT WAY, B. THESE ARE VIP TICKETS!


They wanted to change the routine for the first time in history, something Ben could never support. Every time they brought it up, he shut them down with a playful GIF of a cat staring at a bathtub full of water above the words NO THANKS, BRO! Fan Fan Con was a tradition, and after months of anticipation, he was ready to meet up with his friends like they did every year and hit the convention floor. It was the only way he’d find the courage to return to Sweet Air again, where he’d have to survive another long stretch in a desert of loneliness.

Opening his notebook, he scratched out a few ideas on a blank page.

And he waited.

And kept waiting.

Five o’clock came and went.

Notifications for all the convention events Ben was missing popped up on his phone one after another: 5:00: Chloe Perkins, “How to Draw the Crustiest Hags”; 5:00: Dean and Sean Flicker, “Twins and Mind Powers”; 5:30: Laser Beak Studios, “Creating the Worlds of Kingdoms of Forever.” At 5:32, he couldn’t resist any longer and texted the group chat:


WHAT’S UP? HELLLOOOOOO.


Nothing. Not from Dee Dee, Wanda, Big Barry, or the Pooch.


WHERE R U? U DIDN’T REALLY DITCH ME FOR VIP TIX, DID YA?


No answer. They’d ghosted him.

Or worse. They’d started a new tradition.

But that didn’t make any sense. He was the Quest Master, the one who’d introduced them to each other.

Ben sat alone in their park--on their bench--and watched the carousel turn, its rusty old circus animals bringing smiles to the faces of all the children. Fan Fan Con was in full swing only thirteen blocks away, but he didn’t even care anymore. Going alone wasn’t the point.

Growing up, Ben could always count on Wanda, Dee Dee, Big Barry, and the Pooch to have his back, whether they were copying each other’s homework in algebra or raiding the Minotaur dungeons of Upper Gruel, deep in the flooded Canyons of Worm. Five unique kids who’d never completely fit in on their own but who fit perfectly together as a group, where each had a space to be themselves.

They were the Five of Legend, and they changed Ben’s life, because when you find the right people, the whole world seems to brighten.

All his life, people had accused Ben of being a dreamer, of wasting his time with silly games and make-believe worlds, as though he couldn’t tell the difference between fantasy and reality. Unfortunately, his parents’ divorce had taught him the difference pretty fast, and everything he loved--monsters, sorcerers, legends, and quests--all seemed pretty silly by comparison. He felt comfortable sharing his ideas with his friends, but outside that group he’d always felt exposed, like he’d been hit with the bright beam of a spotlight.

That’s why, when he wasn’t scribbling furiously in his notebook, he kept it bound tightly with fat blue rubber bands, tucked away from prying eyes.

His phone buzzed, and he practically dropped it in his hurry to check the message; but it was from his mom, not his friends:


HAVE FUN AT THE CONVENTION!


WORKING LATE TONIGHT. DON’T WAIT UP.


LUV U.


He sighed. Even his mom had better things to do and more important people to see. They’d been close when he was younger, but she worked all the time now, and he hardly ever saw her.

 

 

 

About Andrew Auseon:

Andrew Auseon is the author of several books for children and young adults, and he is the writer of numerous bestselling and award-winning video games. A transplant from the Midwest, he lives in Washington, D.C. with his family and two very naughty cats. He loves breakfast cereal, the sound of the ocean, and the feeling of a brand-new book in his hands.

 

Website | Book Website | Twitter | Instagram | TikTok | Amazon

 

### Giveaway ###

2 winners will receive a signed finished copy of SPELLBINDERS: THE NOT-SO-CHOSEN ONE & a swag pack. US Only.

Ends June 8th, midnight EST.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Rockstar Book Tours presents... THE THIEF OF TIME by Vivi Barnes, Christina Farley, and Amy Christine Parker - COVER REVEAL + EXCERPT + GIVEAWAY!

Today Vivi Barnes, Christina Farley, and Amy Christine Parker, have teamed up with Rockstar Book Tours to reveal the cover for THE THIEF OF TIME, their new middle grade contemporary fantasy book which releases May 7, 2024! Check out the awesome cover, catch an exciting excerpt, and enter the giveaway!

On to the reveal!

About The Book:

Title: THE THIEF OF TIME (The Library of Alexandria Series #1)

Author: Vivi Barnes, Christina Farley, and Amy Christine Parker

Pub. Date: May 7, 2024

Publisher: Infinity House Creative

Formats:  Hardcover, Paperback, eBook

Pages: 312

Find it: Goodreads, Amazon 

“The Thief of Time is a thrilling contemporary fantasy that will steal your breath away. Chock full of complex world building and magic that springs from the power of story, this book will definitely keep young readers turning pages.”—Polly Holyoke, Award-winning author

Unleash the Magic…

THE THIEF OF TIME is an exciting middle-grade contemporary fantasy adventure that takes readers on a thrilling journey through the realms of magic, friendship, and self-discovery.

On a visit to their local library, Ben, Bridgette, and Maya unwittingly unleash a dragon from an ancient book and find themselves fighting for their lives against a swarm of evil birds. They battle to escape with the help of the dragon and are whisked through a portal into the magical Great Library of Alexandria.

Once they pass the Trials and prove themselves worthy, they are invited to become students at Helicon Academy. There they train to become librarians for the Library of Alexandria, protecting books and the magical artifacts within.

Ben, Bridgette, and Maya fall in love with the story-themed dinners, fantastical animals, and fictional characters roaming the halls. But when they discover a dark and sinister mystery within the academy’s halls, the three must embark on a quest to protect the library and preserve the fabric of time itself.

 

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REVIEWS:

"Every so often, you read a book with a fictional place that is so full of magic and so full of wonder that you want to live there forever -- the library in The Thief of Time is such a place. You're in for a treat!" —Sarah Beth Durst, award-winning author of Spark

 

What a ride! The Thief of Time whisks readers from the immortal Library of Alexandria to adventures across the globe. Maya, Ben, and Bridgette kept me reading to the very end! —Sarah McGuire, author of Flight of Swans and Valiant

 

We all know books are magic, but in The Thief of Time, they are beyond our expectations! This adventure jumps right in with our protagonists facing an adventure, both physically and mentally, unlike any other I've read. Fans of Land of Stories and magical school books are going to devour this new twist on what it means to truly get into a book. —Kellee Moye, librarian

 

 

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*** Excerpt ***

Chapter 1

Polly Definitely Doesn’t Want a Cracker

Ben

The first weird thing Ben noticed was the birds. 

Clustered in bushes around the front of the library, they watched with unblinking beady red eyes as he made his way up the steps. 

“To be, or not to be…gone!” he said loudly, clapping his hands at a pair that was preening on the steps in front of the door. They hopped only a few inches away and fixed Ben with a baleful stare.

Ben shook his head. Here he was, quoting Hamlet at creepy birds and returning an almost-overdue book on a Friday night when there were probably ten end-of-summer parties going on—or at least two that he was invited to. 

He yanked the door open and stepped inside. Mr. Lozano, who’d been the town librarian ever since Ben could remember, was scanning barcodes from a tall stack of books.  

“Hey, Mr. Lozano.” Ben slid his book across the counter. 

Mr. Lozano caught the book and added it to the stack. “Just under the wire, Benjamin. Your dad wouldn’t be happy to come pay another late fee.” 

“I know.”

Mr. Lozano picked up a magnifying glass to peer at the book. With the plaid bow tie and pencil mustache, Ben thought he looked more like a Scotland Yard detective than a librarian. 

Mr. Lozano peeled off the outside cover that was titled “Practical Science.” Ben inwardly groaned. He meant to remove that before returning it. Underneath the cover was a copy of Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

Mr. Lozano sighed. “Your father still giving you a hard time?”

Ben shrugged. His father was a surgeon and thought Ben should be studying math and science, not “farting around with theater and poetry,” as he liked to say. It was just easier for Ben to pretend he was more scientific than he was.

His mom would’ve understood him better. Not a day went by where he didn’t think about her and wish she was with him again, reading Shakespeare’s sonnets like she did when he was little. The gentle lilt of her voice always lulled him to sleep.  

“I know what you’re going to say,” Ben said. “I’ll talk to him again, and—”

“Mr. Lozano, that astronomy book isn’t here,” a girl announced as she walked up and set a stack of books on the counter. She looked familiar, maybe from school. She wore an old Texas Rangers baseball T-shirt and had a short mop of auburn curls, pale skin, and thick round glasses that made her green eyes seem extra-large. 

She shrugged her oversized military-looking green backpack off her shoulders and plopped it on the counter next to the books. “It was due five days ago. I’ve been on the waiting list forever.” 

“I’m sorry, Bridgette. I’m sure the person will bring it back soon.” Mr. Lozano glanced at the clock over the desk. “Unfortunately, the library’s closing so I can’t help you find something else right now.”

“Can’t you call them? Fill out a police report or something?”

“Excuse me.” Someone with two long dark braids squeezed between Ben and Bridgette, her hands cupped around a small ball of fur. A volunteer badge was clipped to the sleeve of her light blue shirt. “Mr. Lozano, I think Griffin’s sick. I’m really worried about him.” 

This girl Ben knew. Everyone knew Maya Friedman, who moved here last summer from Israel and within a month of their sixth-grade year became one of the most popular kids at Harrison Middle. Her braids had kind of become her trademark. Ben hated to admit he was jealous, but no matter how many times he’d styled his sandy blond hair or even dyed it, he’d failed to get a trademark “look.” This girl showed up with two long braids and perfectly tanned olive skin and everyone was like whoooooaaaa. 

“Who’s Griffin?” Ben asked.

“One of the library’s animals.” She held up a small ball of brown fluff. “Does he look a little lethargic to you?” 

Bridgette shrank away. “Keep it away!”

Maya pulled it to her chest protectively. “He’s just a little guinea pig. He won’t hurt you.”

“I know.” Bridgette pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Its scientific name is Cavia porcellus.” Her face flushed as Ben stared at her. “I read a lot.”

“Poor Griffin,” Maya cooed to the ball of fluff. “That girl didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” 

Bridgette frowned. “I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings. I’ve just never been near one before.” She reached out and awkwardly patted its tiny head with one finger. “Good boy.”

Maya smiled at her, then glanced at Ben. “I think I know you from English class. Ben, right?” 

Ben nodded. “You’re Maya.”

“And I’m Bridgette,” Bridgette said from the other side of Maya. “I mean, if anyone wanted to know,” she added softly. 

“No one wants to know,” another voice piped in.

Ben cringed as the awful Davey Singleton swaggered over with a group of his friends. Davey had been Ben’s nemesis ever since Ben was cast as the lead in the third-grade rendition of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and ended up with a terrible case of stage fright, puking all over a kid in a tree costume. Davey took over the role for the rest of the show and still delighted in tormenting Ben about it. Worse, he seemed to beat out Ben for every lead role since then.

“Awww look, it’s Shakesfear,” Davey said. “Library’s closing, Shakesfear. Go barf somewhere else.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Hang in there, Davey. One day, maybe you’ll actually come up with something original.”

“Hey, Maya, you going to Drew’s party?” one of the girls in the group asked. “Davey’s ditching but you should come.”

Maya brightened. “Sure, after I close up here.”

“And, um, change shoes?” the girl said as she stared at Maya’s scuffed black combat boots. “Where’d you get those?”

Maya’s face reddened. “My aunt gave them to me when we left Israel.”

Ben got the feeling she never wore those boots in front of her friends.

“Sorry, you’re not invited,” the girl said to Bridgette as she and her friends walked out the door, laughing.

“Like I was interested anyway,” Bridgette mumbled, looking away.

“Lozano, we have to leave,” Davey said. “When are you going to kick these nobodies out of here?” He pushed through the half-door of the counter and came back with a brown leather suitcase.

“Where are you going?” Ben asked.

“None of your business.”

“We’re fine, we’re fine.” Mr. Lozano glanced again at the clock. “We have ten minutes.” He nodded at Ben, Bridgette, and Maya. “You kids head home now. Library is closed. Maya, thank you for taking such great care of the animals. And Bridgette, tomorrow maybe I can help—"

A loud crack sounded outside of the library. Everyone jumped. Bridgette squealed and pushed closer to Ben, who was rubbing his ringing ears.

“What was that?” Maya said, cradling the chirping Griffin close.

“Lightning?” Ben suggested.

“It’s not even raining,” Bridgette pointed out.

“Quiet.” Lozano held up a hand, frowning. 

Something dark moved against the frosted glass of the front door. Ben heard tiny scratching and tapping noises, which got louder and louder until it sounded like hundreds of birds were trying to claw their way through the door. 

Ben covered his ears, his heart leaping into his throat as the birds shrieked and screamed.

Mr. Lozano yanked open the door to the circulation desk. “Everyone, get behind the counter.” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice!” Davey pushed through the opening, almost knocking Bridgette over with his suitcase. 

Another crash sounded at the door and more dark figures shot past the frosted windowpane, bird silhouettes with feathers and crooked bills that almost looked like creepy noses. 

The door wobbled and shook as if someone was trying to get inside but didn’t know how to use the handle.

Mr. Lozano yelled into his phone, “They’re here! I don’t know how. We need an R.E.R. team now!”

He gestured to Ben and the others. “Gather round and take hands. Now.”

More banging at the door. Davey kept his hands on his suitcase. Bridgette grabbed Ben’s hand, her eyes wide with fear. He squeezed hers with a reassurance he didn’t really feel and felt Maya take his other one. He really hoped his palms weren’t sweaty.

Lozano glanced at the clock. “Hold on. And…now!”

Everyone watched as Mr. Lozano stepped one foot into the empty wastebasket next to the wall. 

And waited. 

Mr. Lozano pulled his foot out of the basket, then stepped in again. And again. 

Ben cleared his voice. “Um, Mr. Lozano, you okay?”

The librarian grabbed the phone, beads of sweat breaking out across his forehead. “It isn’t working. We need a car!”

With a loud smash, the glass in the door shattered, and large black birds with creepy red eyes started clawing their way through the window with long, almost fingerlike talons. Ben yelped and Bridgette screamed.

“Into my office!” Lozano yelled as a flurry of black feathers cascaded over them. “I’ll handle this.”

The kids scrambled into Mr. Lozano’s office and slammed the door behind them as birds thumped against its frosted glass. A single black feather floated in. Ben grabbed it and shoved it in his pocket. “That’s one less feather you’ll have to fight with,” he yelled at the door, not caring how weird he sounded. This whole thing was terrifyingly weird.

Ben turned around, realizing he’d never been in Lozano’s office before. It was like something from another century—old bookshelves, weird telescope-looking things, and ancient leather-bound books piled on a table. A low humming sound seemed to be coming from them. Ben rubbed his ears. 

Screeching from right outside the office made Ben forget all about the humming. The birds hurled against the window. Thump! Thump! Thump! The glass started to crack. 

“We need to hide.” Bridgette yanked her backpack onto her shoulders. 

“Behind there!” Ben ran to the heavy oak desk on the far wall. Bridgette and Maya followed. 

Davey crouched behind a plush chair near the door, clutching his suitcase. “Make them go away,” he whimpered.

A crash sounded on the other side of the door. Ben clamped his eyes shut, hoping Mr. Lozano was okay. 

“Griffin!” Maya cried out.

Ben opened his eyes to see the guinea pig running at top speed toward a crack in the wall. Maya started after him, but Ben grabbed her arm. “He’ll be fine. We need to stay together.”

The square glass window in the door shattered. Davey threw his hands over his head as the birds flew directly at him. His screams pierced the air. Ben gritted his teeth together. No matter how awful Davey was, Ben couldn’t just hide like a coward while birds were trying to kill him. This wasn’t a third-grade play. This was real.

“We have to help him. Distract the birds,” Ben told Maya and Bridgette. 

“How?” cried Bridgette. “It’s not like we have bird seed.”

“Hey!” Maya called out, standing up and waving her arms. 

“What are you doing?” Bridgette yelled at her as birds flew toward them. 

Ben crawled across the floor to Davey, where a bird was flapping over his head, poking him with its beak. He grabbed Davey’s suitcase and threw it at the bird. The bird dodged it, shrieking.

“Hey, that’s expensive,” Davey cried out. 

“So’s our lives!” Ben yelled as more birds converged around them. He grasped for the nearest book, an ancient one with a dragon etched into the leather and the imprint of a harp-looking instrument stamped on it. Ben flung it at the birds. The book landed with a thud on the ground, open. 

Everything went completely still. 

A gust of wind whooshed through the broken window and caught the pages, turning them fast and then faster. The humming he heard earlier grew louder in his ears. Ben gasped as sparks flew out of the pages like sparklers on the Fourth of July.

A column of fire-red flame shot up from the book. Something huge, red, and terrifying burst from the center of it.

 

 

🖊 🖋🖊🖋🖊🖋🖊🖋🖊

 

About Vivi Barnes, Christina Farley, and Amy Christine Parker:

Vivi Barnes, Christina Farley, and Amy Christine Parker are best friends who bonded over their love of telling stories and going on adventures. They live in sunny Central Florida with their families, where inspiration is just a beach day away.

 

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@amychristinepar

@christinaLFarley

@vivibarnes

 

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@AmyChristineParker

@ChristinaFarleyAuthor

@ViviBarnes82

 

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