Free The Secret School by Avi

the mountain peaks made it clear that a big storm was coming.
    "We'd best light the lamps and get in some dry wood," Ida said.
    Right after lunch the storm struck. It came softly at first, then quickly shifted into roof-rattling hail.
    The children gazed around, watching the large hailstones bounce off the windows.
    Tom raised his hand.
    "Yes, Tom?"
    "Can I bring in Ruckus? He gets panicky in hailstorms."
    Ida frowned. "You never did when it stormed before."
    Tom nodded toward the windows. "That's big hail."
    "Very well, I suppose it's all right. But I don't want that mule interfering."
    Tom dashed out. Moments later he returned, leading the mule through the schoolhouse door. He looked around, then backed the animal into the boys' wardrobe and shut the door.
    With the lamps on and the stove hot, it was cozy in the schoolhouse. The students stayed attentive to their work. Now and again in the wardrobe, the mule stamped and occasionally brayed, but no one paid him any mind.
    It was still raining that afternoon when Mary, standing before the class, got ready to recite a poem. The rest of the children were listening intently.
    "'The Song of the Bee,'" Mary began.
    Â 
"This is the song of the bee.
His legs are of yellow,
A jolly, good fellow,
and yet a great worker is he.
In days that are sunny—"
    Â 
    The door burst open. Mr. Jordan stood there, his yellow rain slicker dripping wet. "So it's true what I was told. You
are
meeting here. Well, this school is supposed to be closed. And as of this moment, it
is
closed. Now all of you get on home where you belong!"
    No one moved.
    Suddenly from the boys' wardrobe, there came a loud stamping.
    Puzzled, Mr. Jordan opened the wardrobe door. The mule stuck his head out and brayed in Mr. Jordan's face.
    "And get this mule out of here!" Mr. Jordan cried.

Fourteen
    T HE NEXT DAY Ida and Felix stayed home. There was no choice.
    Felix was more than happy to work along with his father, helping repair the barns and tend to the sheep in the fields. Ida, however, woke that morning completely miserable. No teaching. No exams. No high school. No future. She was trapped. And it was her own fault. If only she hadn't spoken to Herbert's father!
    Though she wanted to, she knew she couldn't lay abed doing nothing. She did her regular chores before breakfast, then took care of the baby when her mother asked her to. The spring sheepshearing had begun.
    Ida took Shelby up to the loft and tried to entertain him with one of her schoolbooks.
    "I could teach you your ABCs," she offered. The little boy studied her with large, uncomprehending eyes.
    "
'A
is for apple pie,'" Ida began, pointing to the letter in the book. Shelby, however, suddenly reached forward and grabbed hold of a page. Ida just managed to keep him from tearing it.
    "All right," she said with a sigh. "Let's go for a walk."
    She took the boy's hand and they made their way, with Shelby waddling, from their log house to the stream back behind it. Still hoping to do some reading, Ida brought along her book.
    At the water's edge, Shelby squatted and placed his hands, palms down, into the water—still cold and high from mountain snow runoff—and laughed. Ida, for safety's sake, sat close behind him, watching. She wondered what Tom was doing. Probably, she thought with a pang of envy, printing church circulars or fiddling with his radio, listening to the world. She picked up her book but didn't open it.
    "Shelby," Ida said, "what am I going to do?"
    Shelby slapped the water with his hands, making a splash that wet him. First startled, he then laughed with delight and did it again.
    "Slapping the water won't help
me
," Ida said with a sigh. Leaning back against a tree, she opened her book and tried to read. Every so often she glanced up to make sure the boy was safe. The result was she read only by bits and pieces, hardly taking in any meaning. The way she was feeling, the words before her seemed empty.
    She was only staring at the book