Secrets at the Chocolate Mansion

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Authors: Leslie Margolis
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even remember all the details—just the sensations.
    I was in a dark and scary place, and something was wrapped tightly around my body. It constricted my chest and made it near impossible to breathe. But when I looked down I couldn’t see a thing, because nothing was there. And yet that nothing pressed into me, squeezing me from all sides. The air seemed to disappear fromthe room, and I wondered whether I could drown even though there wasn’t any water in sight.
    My arms were free, so I tried to claw at this invisible thing, but I couldn’t feel it.
    Yet still it squeezed tighter and tighter and tighter.
    When I tried to run, I couldn’t make my legs work.
    All I could do was sit in the small room with the dark walls closing in around me, creepy organ music blasting in my ears.
    I couldn’t even call for help, because my voice didn’t work.
    Even though I was awake now, with plenty of oxygen in my fairly large bedroom, I was still trembling.
    â€œSorry,” I said to Finn. “Did you hear me tossing and turning?”
    â€œNo, I heard you screaming.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” I asked.
    I heard the rustle of sheets and the creak of the bed as Finn sat up. “You were screaming your own name.”
    I sat up myself, because this didn’t make any sense. I didn’t recall using my voice.
    â€œSeriously?” I asked. “I was screaming ‘Maggie’?”
    â€œNot Maggie,” said Finn. “You were screaming your real name: Margaret.”

Chapter 8
    I showed up at Sonya’s Sweets at a quarter to ten to find the picture window covered with two large pieces of crisscrossed plywood. Someone had scrawled “OPEN” on one of them in all capital letters with a red Sharpie. It was functional, but a far cry from yesterday’s gorgeous welcome sign.
    When I knocked on the front door, Sonya’s cousin, Felicity, looked up from the countertop she was cleaning at the back of the store. She seemed surprised to see me. “We’re closed,” she called.
    At least, I think she said that. My lip-reading skills are decent but not perfect.
    â€œI know,” I said, nodding and pointing to the door. “Can you let me in anyway?”
    She walked over to Joshua, who was mopping up behind the counter. They talked, then he looked at meand nodded and gave me the thumbs-up sign. Felicity walked over and opened the door a crack.
    â€œWe met yesterday, remember? I’m Sonya’s friend, Maggie.”
    Felicity opened up the door a bit more so I could squeeze through. “Right. Ricki mentioned you might stop by. Please excuse the mess.”
    â€œDon’t worry about it,” I replied as I looked around the store. “Okay if we sit down for a minute and talk?”
    She looked around nervously. “Um, I have a lot to do before we open. This isn’t the best—”
    â€œThis will only take a few minutes,” I said, interrupting. “Ten at the most, and then I’ll leave you alone.”
    â€œIt’s okay, Felicity,” Joshua called from across the store. “I’ll cover for you.”
    Felicity didn’t say anything, but I could tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t thrilled with his offer.
    I walked over to the nearest booth and took a seat before she could change her mind. “Please join me,” I said, whipping out my notebook and looking up at her expectantly.
    Felicity sank down into the booth across from me. She was pretty, like Sonya, and they were both tall and thin and long-limbed.
    Of course, Sonya is tall for a seventh grader, and Felicity is just plain tall for anyone. Except for maybe abasketball player. Then she’d be average. Or perhaps below average, but only a bit. I think. I actually don’t know the average height of professional basketball players. I could look it up; I suppose that’s what Wikipedia is for. Or there’s math, if the statistic

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