The Sky is Falling by Kit Pearson Page B

had been sent to Canada instead of a European child. Perhaps she could tell Miss Liers sometime that she would have been happy if one could have been evacuated in her place.
    She discovered quickly that the problems were ones she had done last year. Beside her, Dulcie gave a small sigh of relief. Arithmetic had been her weakest subject.
    Miss Liers didn’t call on either of them. When some of the pupils went to the blackboard to write down their answers, Norah felt safe enough to raise her head and examine the room.
    It was as large as their whole school in Ringden. The five rows of desks had wide spaces between them and at one end there was a raised platform with a piano on it. The walls were hung with rolled-up maps and a picture of the Royal Family, just like at home. Norah’s desk was beside high windows; she could see out to the houses across the street.
    Next she looked at the pupils. Everyone was too busy concentrating to return her stare. They didn’t seem anydifferent from English children, but there were so many of them. In Ringden there had been only thirty-two children divided into two age groups. Here there were—she counted quickly—twenty-seven, including her and Dulcie, and everyone seemed to be the same age. If there were two rooms for each of the eight grades, there were over five hundred children in the school!
    A loud bell interrupted Norah’s private arithmetic. She looked around to see what they were supposed to do next. All the children put down their pencils and sat up alertly.
    â€œBefore you go out for recess, I want two volunteers to look after our war guests,” said Miss Liers.
    All the girls shot up their arms. One large, smartalecky boy with red hair waved his wildly, while his friends hooted and cheered.
    â€œThat will do, Charlie!” There was instant silence; Miss Liers commanded respect.
    â€œBabs Miller will look after Dulcie, and Ernestine Gagnon, Norah. Show them where to go and what to do for the next few days. Make them feel at home here.”
    Babs Miller started asking Dulcie eager questions as soon as they were allowed to talk. Ernestine looked longingly after Dulcie as they left the room, as if she had wanted her instead of Norah. She was a very pretty girl with glossy brown curls held back with a huge bow.
    Norah was desperate for a toilet. “Where’s the lav?” she asked, as she and Ernestine started out to the playground.
    â€œThe lav? What’s that?”
    Oh, help—what would they call it? At the Ogilvies’ they said “bathroom” but surely there weren’t any rooms with baths in them at school.
    â€œThe WC,” Norah tried next.
    â€œThe WC? Are you asking riddles or something?” Ernestine looked annoyed, as they stood inside the door and everyone surged past.
    â€œThe—the toilet !” burst out Norah, flushing with embarrassment.
    â€œOh, the washroom —why didn’t you say so? Follow me.” Looking even angrier, Ernestine led her to a large room with a long row of cubicles in the basement. Norah had to stay there awhile. By the time Ernestine had waited for her and taken her out to the playground, recess was almost over.
    The boys and girls seemed to have separate play areas. Ernestine and Norah went up to the grade five girls, all standing around Dulcie in an eager crowd.
    â€œHow long did it take you to get over?”
    â€œWhat was it like on the ship?”
    Dulcie beamed at all this unusual attention. “The ship was scary, ” she said importantly. “Some other girls and I started a club to keep up our courage.”
    â€œI love your dress, Dulcie,” said Ernestine, pushing past Norah and forgetting her.
    Norah assessed the situation quickly. This would never do—Dulcie was the one who was supposed to be unpopular! And she wasn’t describing any of the interesting parts. Norah opened her mouth to tell someone aboutthe German plane, but