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Informationen zum Autor A lifelong night owl, P.J. Night often works furiously into the wee hours of the morning, writing down spooky tales and dreaming up new stories of the supernatural and otherworldly. Although P.J.’s whereabouts are unknown at this time, we suspect the author lives in a drafty, old mansion where the floorboards creak when no one is there and the flickering candlelight creates shadows that creep along the walls. We truly wish we could tell you more, but we’ve been sworn to keep P.J.’s identity a secret…and it’s a secret we will take to our graves! Klappentext "Beth Picard has always felt a little different from her friends. For one thing, she doesn't remember anything about her life before she and her mother moved into the house they live in now. Then one day, Beth learns about a girl in a nearby town who looks like her-- exactly like her. Could it be a long lost sister or cousin? Does this girl hold the key to Beth's memories? And if so, does Beth really want to know the truth about her past? Does she even have a choice?"--Will You Be My Friend? CHAPTER 1 “Mom, where does this go?” shouted twelve-year-old Beth Picard. She gripped a large cardboard box in her arms and stood inside the empty hallway of her new house. “What’s it say on the top?” Beth’s mom called back from the living room. Beth glanced down at the box. “?‘Kitchen,’?” she replied. “I’ll give you three guesses as to which room it belongs in,” Beth’s mom replied. “And the first two don’t count!” “Very funny, Mom,” Beth said as she headed to the kitchen and placed the box on top of two other boxes, forming yet another cardboard tower growing out of the kitchen floor. Beth and her mom were excited about moving into their new house. It had been built a few years ago and had only one set of previous owners. Even the paint on the walls still looked spotless. It felt like a fresh start for both of them. Beth’s mom had just started a new job. Beth was looking to make new friends and move on with her life, following . . . well, following whatever had come before—something she was not too clear about. Beth hurried back out to the moving truck they had rented, climbed up the metal ramp, and grabbed another box. As she headed down the long front walkway, past hedges and flowering trees, she was about to call to her mom again. Instead she stopped just outside the front door and glanced down at the label on the top of the box. It said BETH’S BEDROOM. Beth smiled as she walked into the house and headed up the stairs, proud of herself that she didn’t have to ask her mom about every box she carried in. Beth knew that her mom was a very organized person. At least that’s what her mom liked to say about herself. She had told Beth that when she packed up their stuff at their old house, she made sure to group every box according to room. Then she made a label for each box to take the guesswork out of the unpacking process. Beth took her mother’s word for the fact that she was organized. In fact, Beth took her mom’s word for just about everything. For reasons she didn’t understand, Beth had trouble recalling the past. She searched her mind, trying to remember helping her mom pack up their old house, but could conjure no images of that or anything else from before. Beth couldn’t even recall what their old house looked like. More to wonder about, I guess, she thought as she stepped into her new bedroom and placed the box onto her bed. Turning around, Beth caught a glimpse of herself in a full-length mirror leaning against a bedroom wall. Sunlight streaming through the window highlighted the spattering of freckles on her face. She shook her head, sending her shoulder-length auburn hair whipping back and forth.
