Angel Falls (Angel Falls Series, #1), Babette Jongh [books for 6 year olds to read themselves .TXT] 📗

I tried the tarnished brass knob on the first door. “This was Old Lady Carroll’s literature class, wasn’t it?” The knob moved freely, but the door didn’t budge.

Joan came up beside me. “English Lit, and you had to be lit to sit through the whole class without sleeping. At least, that’s what my brother said.” Together, we pushed until the swollen wood scraped against the old wood floor, opening grudgingly to reveal the classroom inside.

“Oh, wow,” Meredith breathed, her voice reverent. “This is perfect.” Tall windows, tall ceilings, one long, blank wall for mirrors. This room was a dancer’s dream.

The rest of the building was a nightmare. “I really wanted this to work, but I don’t see how it can.”

Meredith shook her head. “Too bad this room is attached to the rest of the building.”

Joan nodded a wordless oh-well. “I guess we’ll have to keep looking.”

*

That afternoon, storm clouds gathered. Jake stood outside the school, laughing with a group of friends. I didn’t see Maryann. I parked in the first place I could find. Leaving Lizzie in the back seat of the running car, I got out and waved to get Jake’s attention. “Where’s your sister?”

“She didn’t come outside.” He turned back toward his friends again. Cole and Meredith’s daughter, Jennifer was in the group, her coltish long legs and wavy hair like her mom’s. She smiled and waved.

I waved back, then walked toward the bank of metal doors that still belched out kids with backpacks slung over shoulders. Inside the school, a couple of sullen-faced boys sat on the bench just inside the office door, faces smeared with dirt and tears. One held a pair of smashed eyeglasses. The other pressed a wet paper towel to his swelling lip.

“I’m looking for Maryann Hansen,” I told the blond, pixie-faced young woman behind the desk. “She isn’t outside.”

The woman clicked the computer mouse a couple of times and picked up the phone, holding it poised in her slender hand. “Whose class is she in?”

I answered her question, and she pushed a button on the keypad, twirling her stud earring between her fingers while she spoke into the receiver. “Mrs. Meyers, is Maryann Hansen still in the classroom?” She listened for a moment, said, “Ah-huh, thank you,” and then looked up.

“Her grandmother picked her up about an hour ago. She went home sick.”

“Oh.” I wondered why Ben hadn’t let me know. I guess he had his hands full. “Thank you for your help.”

The woman raised a hand briefly and returned her attention to the computer screen.

When I walked out, Jake leaned against the wall just outside the doors. I patted his arm. “I guess it’s just you and me.”

He shrugged a who-cares shoulder. “Where’s Maryann?”

“She went home sick.” We crossed the street to the car. “Amy’s sick, too. You’re coming home with me until they get better.”

“Awww.” He tossed his backpack onto the back seat, barely missing Lizzie, who moved over just in time. “I was going skateboarding with Nicky after school today.”

“Maybe you can play with Ray when we get to my place.”

“He’s just a little kid.” Jake slammed the door.

“A whole year younger than you. Buckle your seatbelt.”

He growled under his breath, as if I’d asked him to dig a ten-foot hole. He obeyed, but his expression made it clear he didn’t plan to cooperate any more than he absolutely had to. He ignored me and looked out the window with the long-suffering expression of someone chained to the seat in a prison van.

“You wouldn’t have been able to skateboard for long anyway. It’s going to rain. You could take Lizzie for a walk before it starts.”

Lizzie’s ears pricked up at the mention of her name, but Jake made a noncommittal sound and slumped down into his seat. The storm clouds gathering overhead had nothing on his expression.

I pulled away from the curb. “We’ll think of something fun for you to do.”

“Whatever.”

When we got to my house and piled out of the car, I thanked my lucky stars that Angela’s son, Ray, was sitting on the front porch swing. A ginger-headed, freckle-faced Huck Finn wearing last year’s grass-stained, holey jeans and a raggedy T-shirt.

“Hey, man!” Ray jumped up from the swing and hopped over the front porch rail, landing at the edge of my carefully tended azaleas. I didn’t fuss the way I normally would, because today, Ray was my savior. I felt sure that given a little time and inattention, my problems as Jake’s entertainment chairman would take care of themselves.

“Hey, Ray,” Jake grumbled.

“I don’t have any homework,” Ray announced. “You want to hang out?”

Jake shrugged.

“You can do your homework later,” I told him. “Y’all go ahead and play now, before it rains.”

Jake cringed at the word “play,” and I remembered that kids his age didn’t play. They hung out. Assuming his agreement anyway, I went inside and left Lizzie and the boys standing in the front yard. I figured Jake would do better without me watching, since he wouldn’t feel compelled to impress me with how miserable he was.

I straightened the house and started a load of laundry, occasionally glancing out the front window to make sure they were okay. After an hour, I tapped on the window to get their attention. The porch swing stopped banging against the side rail, and Jake schooled his expression into a mask of irritation.

“Are y’all hungry?” I raised my voice so they could hear me through the window glass.

“What have you got to eat?” Jake yelled.

“Apples, oranges, yogurt—”

“Nah,” they said in unison.

“Can Jake come over to my house?” Ray asked.

“If it’s okay with your mom. But don’t go anywhere else without telling me, okay?”

Jake stood, and the porch swing bumped against the rail as both boys abandoned it. A second later, the door to Angela’s apartment slammed closed.

I settled into my comfy quilted reading chair and was deep into the newest JoAnn Sky book, when someone knocked. My heart hammering in case it was Ian, I put my