R My Name Is Rachel Read Online Free PDF Page B

another step, and realize I’ve lost one of Joey’s galoshes. I can’t go forward; I can’t even get back on the porch. I call out, but no one answers.
    I begin to cry, the tears warm on my cheeks. I yell then—it’s an angry screech—and at last Pop swings open the door.
    “My dear Rachel.” He lifts me out of the snow and helps me into the house, holding me. We rock back and forth in the hall, his heavy shirt warm against my cheek. He whispers, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
    “How will I ever get to school?” I say through my tears.
    For a moment, he’s completely silent. “I’ve been meaning to tell you …”
    I lean back so I can see his face. He looks sadder than I’ve ever seen him before.
    “The real estate man told me the school is closed.” Pop shakes his head. “He says they’ll get it going again soon. They have no money to pay the teachers now.”
    Joey stands at the end of the hall. No school is good news for him. Cassie is right behind him, picking at her fingernail. Who knows what she’s thinking?
    I picture a sponge that’s dry; it shrivels up into almost nothing. I’m that sponge. “What about the library?”
    Pop doesn’t answer.
    That means the library is closed. How can that be? I can’t even cry. No library: the idea is too big for tears.
    “This depression can’t last forever,” Pop says. “And when it’s over, things will go back to normal. School willopen; so will the library. You’ll see, Rachel. You have to believe that.”
    I shrug out of my coat and unwind my scarf. “One of your galoshes is out there, under the snow,” I tell Joey, my voice not steady. “I’ll get it back for you as soon as the snow begins to melt.”
    Will it ever melt?
    Joey waves his hand in the air. “Don’t worry. There are boots piled up in a pantry closet.”
    Only one thing at a time.
    “Do you mind if I take the bedroom with the cat pictures?” I aim the question at Cassie. No one else will care. My voice sounds strange, almost as if it doesn’t make any difference what she says.
    She squints at me. “Which room is that?”
    “The smallest. In back.”
    She tilts her head. “Go ahead,” she says at last.
    I start up the stairs.
    “Rachel,” Pop and Joey say almost at the same time.
    “I’m all right,” I say.
    I go into the bedroom and sit against the wall.
    Oh, Clarence
.
    I put my things around me, rattling my bottle of sand and shells from Coney Island; I sniff the empty bottle of Shalimar perfume, read Charlie the Butcher’s greasy card, then pull out my Rebecca book.
    It’s satisfyingly thick. I know I have to spread out the reading to make it last, but today I’ll read two pages instead of the one I promised myself. Maybe even three pages.
    The idea is as soothing as sweet hot tea.
    * * *
    It’s almost dark when the snow stops. From the window, I can see that a dusty moon glimmers overhead. I haven’t read three pages; I’ve read fifty-three. I have to slow down.
    I kneel up to watch the field. I wonder about my old friends from school, Peggy and Mary, who moved away because of the Depression. Could they be in a strange place, the way we are?
    I keep looking outside. If I see Clarence tunneling through the snow, can I even go out and help him? But what I see is almost a miracle. Snow has drifted away from the fence on the side of the field. It’s almost bare, with tan weeds showing their heads. I could walk carefully all the way to the back.
    Downstairs, I find the boots Joey was talking about and head out. The wind sweeps across the field, sending veils of snow into the air. Beyond that is a blur of trees. I wade toward them, looking up at the few stars that have come out. The planet Pluto is up there, looking down at me.
    In a few more steps, I’m at the barn. The door is open. Is it possible that Clarence is hidden in there somewhere? I step inside. It takes me a moment to get used to the half dark. But then I look at the stalls, which must have