Ms. Bixby's Last Day Read Online Free PDF

remember me and cry. Au revoir.”
    The picture froze and Principal McNair hunched back over the computer. In a blink, Ms. Bixby was gone. The room was completely silent. It was a long time before anyone made a move or a sound. Even Kyle Kipperson managed to keep his big mouth shut for once. Then finally Sarah Tolsen timidly raised her hand.
    â€œWhat about The Hobbit ?”
    Principal McNair looked confused. “What about The Hobbit ?” she asked back.
    â€œMs. Bixby’s been reading it to us after lunch. We only have twenty pages left,” Sarah explained, pointing to the hardback copy sitting on the desk. “We were supposed to finish it this week. We have to know how it ends.”
    Principal McNair smiled unconvincingly. “I’m sure the sub can finish reading the book to you.”
    â€œBut will she read it like Ms. Bixby reads it?” Carlos Menzanno asked.
    â€œYeah, will she do the voices?”
    â€œAnd what about our field trip to the duck pond? Ms. Bixby said she’d take us on Thursday.”
    â€œAnd we never got around to finishing our unit on the coral reef.”
    â€œIs there a chance she’ll be back before the year ends?”
    â€œCan’t she just come back for the party at least?”
    It was a flurry of questions. Everybody was just shouting them out, nobody bothering to raise their hand. Even with the principal in the room, the class soon dissolved into a muddle, twenty uncertain voices burbling at once. I didn’t raise my hand. The questions I had, I was sure Principal McNair couldn’t possibly answer. Neither Topher nor Steve raised their hands either. The principal looked from one face to the next, clearly overwhelmed, reaching out to steady herself against the desk. Then I heard McKenzie ask if she should still bother to bring in cupcakes on Friday.
    Next thing I knew, Principal McNair was walking quickly out the door, one hand over her face, just leaving us alone in the room with a blank screen, an unfinished book, and so many questions.
    I’m no genius, but there is one thing I do know: I know that Ms. Bixby isn’t coming back this year. I know a thing or two about hospitals and medical procedures and recovery times. I knowthat sometimes it’s easier to tell somebody what they want to hear or tell them only part of the truth.
    There’s a difference between the truth and the whole truth. The truth is Ms. Bixby is sick and she is leaving. The whole truth is that I have something I need to tell her. Something she already knows, but I feel like I have to say it out loud, in person, just in case she’s forgotten, because she needs to hear it just as much as I did.
    Which means, somehow or another, I’ve got to see her again.

Topher
    DATE: FRIDAY, MAY 7. TIME: 0730. LOCATION: Outer perimeter of Fox Ridge Elementary School, just south of the bus drop-off, and unfortunately behind some bushes with potentially poisonous berries and prickly thorns.
    Special Agent Sakata and I have snuck behind enemy lines. The drop zone is clear; no sign of enemy patrols. Agent Sakata is armed with a Carhartt multitool, complete with pliers, unworkable scissors, and Phillips head screwdriver. I have my sketchbook—don’t leave home without it—and a regulation-size box of raisins. The raisins are almost gone. The air is sharp with the smell of diesel and mown grass. We are already five minutes behind schedule. Special Agent Walker is late.
    â€œWhere is he?”
    â€œHow am I supposed to know?” Agent Sakata answers.
    â€œWhat’s his bus number?”
    â€œI don’t know that either.”
    â€œBut you know everything!”
    â€œI don’t know what bus he rides. I’ve never even been to his house!”
    I shrug, letting Steve off the hook. It’s true. Neither of us has been to Brand’s house. Not because we wouldn’t go. Only because we’ve never been invited. He’s been to