Sabotage At Willow Woods Read Online Free PDF Page B

oncoming steamroller with a shrug. “Just tell them to stop.”
    I woke up panting, soaked with sweat. The tree outside my window shifted in the breeze, the leaves making a soft shhhh sound, and it only made me tremble harder. I glanced at the clock by my bed: 3:24 a.m.
    It was just a dream. I settled back against my pillows, trying to calm my jangled nerves. It can’t hurt you. It was just a dream.
    I tried counting to one hundred, slowing my breathing, imagining myself at the beach—all the things that usually calmed me down. But nothing seemed to work.
    It was just a dream, I told myself again.
    But why did it feel so real?

    The next day I stumbled through school, tired and irritable, until my last, free period, when I changed my clothes and jumped into my car. I was back at Boylestown High, filled with a new sense of purpose, just as the bell signaling the end of the school day rang. Sure, in real life, Barney had seemed nice enough, and the goals of the Green Club seemed noble and sensible. If Carrie’s sports complex really was going to cause irreparable damage, then yes, it made sense to let people know. But the events at last night’s fund-raising dinner still turned my stomach. It seemed awfully below the belt to frame Carrie for saying something she’d never really said, robbing of her the chance to explain her views.
    As the hallways cleared, I stepped cautiously through the doorway of room 238—sophomore English. “Ms. Meyerhoff?” I asked.
    The woman I saw at the desk was not at all what I was expecting for the Green Club advisor and possiblenote writer. She was soft and round, with slightly frizzy, long brown hair and warm, gentle brown eyes. I realized that in the back of my mind, I’d been imagining some hip, edgy woman with piercings, organic designer clothes, and a punkish haircut. “Can I help you?” she asked, looking up curiously.
    I cleared my throat. “Um . . . I hope so.”
    She smiled encouragingly. “Need some help with Shakespeare?” she asked, organizing some books on her desk. “All the English teachers send confused students my way. Just read it out loud. It always helps. It’s amazing how universal the problems seem when you speak the words out loud.”
    I pulled my laptop out of my backpack. “Actually . . . I’m an intern for the Boylestown Bugle . I’m doing an article on the new football field and sports complex that Carrie Kim is proposing. I’m collecting quotes from a sample of teachers. Would you mind chatting for just a moment?”
    Ms. Meyerhoff’s open expression suddenly closed off, and she sighed and shuffled her books into amessenger bag. “I’m sure you could find more interesting people to talk to, Ms. . . . What was your name?”
    “I’m sorry.” I put my laptop down on a desk and held out my hand. “Katrina Vicks. And I’m interested in whatever you have to say, really.”
    Ms. Meyerhoff gave me an appraising look, then shrugged and sat back down behind her desk. “Very well. Can we make it quick, though? I have a dentist appointment in half an hour.”
    I smiled and sat down at one of the student desks, opening up my laptop. “Great. No problem. Can I ask your name and what subjects you teach?”
    She nodded. “Ms. Meyerhoff—Marina—and I teach English and music.”
    I nodded too and tapped out some notes on the laptop. “And how long have you been at BHS, Ms. Meyerhoff?”
    “Twelve years.”
    A long time. I typed that down as well, thinking that Ms. Meyerhoff had been at BHS long enough to develop some strong opinions.
    I looked up. “And—Ms. Meyerhoff—can you tell me honestly, how do you feel about the proposed sports complex?”
    Ms. Meyerhoff shook her head and looked down at her sweater, where she pulled at a pilling bit. “Well, honestly? I’m sure it will be nice for the athletes, but I wish that money could be spent on arts education instead. Did you know we had to let two art teachers go last year, because there