Milo woke to a soft click. The last light had switched off. He'd dozed off in the beanbag, and his comic had slid to the floor. The library was closed, dark, and locked tight. It smelled of dust and old glue. Then he heard it: every shelf was breathing. Books slid their spines a half-inch out, then back, in and out. A voice whispered, "Stay quiet. Don't wake them all the way."

Milo wanted to know what was really going on. He reached out and gently pulled one breathing book off the shelf. It was warm. On the cover, in gold letters, it read: HOW TO WAKE THE LIBRARY. The pages flipped open by themselves to chapter one.

Milo read chapter one out loud without thinking: "To wake the library, simply speak its name." The book slammed shut in his hands. Across the room, the big red book on the top shelf creaked. Its cover lifted an inch, like an eye starting to open.

Milo dove behind the desk as the red book's cover yawned wide. A dusty wind howled out of it. He grabbed a heavy dictionary, slammed it down on top of the red book, and held it shut with all his weight. Slowly, the wind died. The library sagged back to sleep.