The Sky is Falling by Kit Pearson Page A

shrugged. She couldn’t think of any words to describe Aunt Florence, although “dragon” and “pillar” certainly seemed right.
    â€œAunt Dorothy and Uncle Cedric aren’t at all strict,” said Lucy, trying to balance on one leg. “They let us dowhatever we want and they’ve taken us to all sorts of interesting places. Have you been on a streetcar, yet, Norah? Have you seen the Toronto Islands and Casa Loma? We have.”
    â€œIsn’t it odd how they shop for food here?” Dulcie giggled. “Everything in one store! Does your house have a refrigerator? Ours does, and we can have as much water as we like in the bath. Do stop that, Lucy, we’re supposed to be sitting quietly.”
    Goosey and Loosey babbled on and Norah only half-listened; she kept her eyes on the glass door. At home the headmaster— principal, she corrected herself—was also her teacher. He didn’t have an office or a secretary, or a mysterious glass door.
    â€œIt’s an enormous school, isn’t it?” said Dulcie. “Aunt Dorothy says it goes up to age fourteen!”
    In the village school their age group had been the oldest. As Norah contemplated this, the glass door opened a crack. “Come in, girls,” called Mrs. Milne.
    They stood in a row in front of the principal’s desk. He leaned across it and shook their hands. “Welcome to Canada,” he said vaguely. He was a sleepy-looking man who seemed preoccupied, as if none of them were really in the room with him.
    â€œYes, um, war guests—there are already twenty-four in the school and they’re settling in well. We’re glad that Canada has been able to help you at this difficult time. Now, about your grade levels.” He told them that Lucy would be in grade two, and Norah and Dulcie in gradefive. “Say goodbye to your guardians now and I’ll take you to your classrooms.”
    â€œI’ll meet you at the front door at 12:30,” whispered Aunt Mary.
    The three girls followed Mr. Evans’s back down the hall. The wooden floor made their footsteps echo loudly. Everyone else was already in class. Norah and Dulcie waited outside while the principal took Lucy by the hand into a room labelled Two B—Mrs. Newbery. Then he continued to a door that said Five A—Miss Liers.
    He knocked before poking in his head. “Miss Liers, your war guests—Dulcie Smith and Norah Stoakes.” They stepped through the doorway and he closed them in.
    Miss Liers was a thin, bitter-looking woman with dark hair scraped back so tightly in a bun that it pulled on her skin. Although her words were kind, her tone was sarcastic, as if they had done something wrong. “How do you do, Dulcie and Norah? We’ve been expecting you. I’ve given you desks next to each other over there. Five A is proud to have some war guests. We felt deprived without any, didn’t we, class?”
    Five A stared at Norah and Dulcie as if the multitude of eyes were one big eye.
    Miss Liers handed them each some pencils and note-books, continuing to talk in a strained, cold voice. Why did she resent them? Norah wondered, lifting up the lid of her desk to hide from all those eyes. She found out at once.
    â€œDulcie and Norah are extremely lucky,” Miss Liers was saying. “ All British evacuees are lucky that Canadahas invited them here for the duration. But we mustn’t forget that there are other children in Europe who aren’t so lucky. Little Belgian and Dutch and Jewish children whose circumstances are far graver than British children’s. Let us hope that our government will act to bring those children over to safety as well.”
    She paused expectantly and the class droned, “Yes, Miss Liers.” But no one was listening. They were all peeking at the two new girls.
    Norah bent her head over her arithmetic book as the interrupted lesson continued. It wasn’t her fault she