#8 The Hatching

First published in Dublin, Ireland by Little Island
Original edition © Little Island 2013

American edition © 2015 Darby Creek,
a division of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.

All US rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc., except for the inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.

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Main body text set in ITC Stone Serif Std. 11.5/15.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Graves, Annie.

The Hatching / by Annie Graves ; illustrated by Glenn McElhinney.

pages   cm. — (The Nightmare Club)

Originally published: Dublin, Ireland : Little Island, 2013.

ISBN: 978–1–4677–4354–9 (lib. bdg. : alk. paper)

ISBN: 978–1–4677–4354–9 (eBook)

[1. Eggs—Fiction.   2. Horror stories.]   I. McElhinney, Glenn, illustrator.   II. Title.

PZ7.G77512Hat 2015

[Fic]—dc23

2014015446

Manufactured in the United States of America
1 – SB – 12/31/14
ISBN 978-1-4677-7641-7 (pdf)
ISBN 978-1-4677-7878-7 (ePub)
ISBN 978-1-4677-7879-4 (mobi)

To Sally Ann, who's scared of nothing. My kind of girl.

A
nnie Graves is twelve years old, and she has no intention of ever growing up. She is, conveniently, an orphan, and lives at an undisclosed address in the Glasnevin area of Dublin, Ireland, with her pet toad, Much Misunderstood, and a small black kitten, Hugh Shalby Nameless.

You needn't think she goes to school—pah!—or has anything as dull as brothers and sisters or hobbies, but let's just say she keeps a large black cauldron on the stove.

This is not her first book. She has written eight so far, none of which is her first.

Publisher's note: we did try to take a picture of Annie, but her face just kept fading away. We have sent our camera for investigation but suspect the worst.

Listen, Dee Sullivan, if you think you wrote this story, you are seriously deranged. You may have been eating too many eggs. But, hey, I don't mind admitting to a little harmless help.

A few sort of hints and mutterings.

S
eamus was the next to tell a story.

If the truth be told, I don't really like Seamus.

He is the sort of boy who wouldn't actually push you into the mud on purpose, but he would run past you without looking, and you'd end up in the mud.

Even if he hadn't meant to do it, the end result would be the same. You'd have a rotten squelchy uniform for the rest of the day.

You get my drift...

Seamus cleared his throat and began to speak.

He said his story was about an egg.

I smiled evilly.
Someone
was definitely going home as soon as his stupid little tale was over.

It reminded me of Gregory, who told a story about waking up having grown a mad little tail, and how it would wag whenever he was happy and how annoying that was.

People like Gregory and Seamus don't really get the point of the Nightmare Club
, I thought smugly, leaning back on the cushions and popping another gummy bear into my mouth.

And then...

“The affair of the Egg began,” Seamus said, “as these things always do, with a dare.”

As these things always do?

Hmm.

Well, go on, read it for yourself. See what you make of it.