Catch Me When I Fall by Westerhof Patricia Read Free Book Online Page B

they would keep gnawing at him. And then there were the shortages, the lacks that tore at him too. Love, forgiveness, atonement.
    He turned up the volume on his player and lay still, not thinking, just listening. The rhythmic drumbeat was a hand on his shoulder telling him to endure. Live your life.
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    On Monday morning he dragged himself to science class, edging around Matthew and Rodney’s shoving match as he entered the room. Not far enough. Matthew gave Rodney a sharp push so that he careened into Eustace. “Sorry,” Eustace said. He collapsed into the desk he’d collided with.
    Mr. Peet looked excited. “Listen to this,” he said once most students were settled. He took his glasses off and leaned toward the class. “Today’s Fabulous Fact. Scientists have a new theory about the source of the G-ring around Saturn! The second-last ring.” He held up an astronomy textbook with a small photo of the planet. From where Eustace sat, he could see Saturn but not the rings around it. “They think they’ve found a tiny moon in the ring—a moonlet.” Audrey laughed. Mr. Peet raised his voice. “As the moonlet circles Saturn, it collides with other matter, meteoroids and such. Slowly, the moonlet is disintegrating from the collisions, and the ring is its trail of dust. Isn’t that fascinating?”
    Eustace, sketching a tiny moon on his binder, thought it was the saddest thing he’d ever heard.

How Lovely Are the Feet of Them
    AFTER THE MEMBERS of her book club left the house, Eliza cleared the teacups and plumped her velvet cushions. In her head she composed an email to Samantha, her friend in Australia. Would she mention the mishap at school? Her neck muscles tightened as she recalled her third-period class. It was all Stan Ellis’s fault. Eliza disliked labelling people, but everyone could see Stan Ellis was a fanatic, a military fanatic, the worst kind.
    This year he was more worked up than ever because he’d read about some teacher in Ontario who enlisted his students to dig First World War–style trenches on his property. Stan had spent the summer dressed up as an American Civil War soldier, participating in battles in some former confederate state. And now he was bringing this military fervour into his classroom. He probably looked good in a uniform, Eliza thought, with his trim body, the straight nose, and wide mouth. Still, anyone who loved war that much shouldn’t be teaching the teenagers of Poplar Grove.
    When she spoke to Ronald Hill, the social studies department head, Ronald had been—to say the least—patronizing. Eliza blamed her height for this. She was a shorter, plus-sized woman. That was how she referred to herself.
    In October she had complained to her book club. It was their annual film night, during which they watched a DVD instead of discussing a book. Il Postino . Eliza laughed and laughed as she watched the postman’s encounters with Pablo Neruda. “Hey, Eliza,” said Helena while the credits rolled, “maybe you can fight Stan’s war-mongering with poetry!”
    When Eliza had voiced her concerns to the principal in November, she’d been gently ushered out of his office. “Thank you, Eliza. I’ll look into it.” She’d been so upset that she’d worn a Peace on Earth button instead of a poppy for Remembrance Day. In church that week, when the minister announced the hymn “Onward Christian Soldiers,” she’d refused to sing.
    â€œYou could try a poetry unit,” Helena had said again at the December book club meeting.
    â€œAnti-war poems or love poems?” Bea had wondered, and a short discussion ensued. Valerie, a newcomer to the group, had said in her soft and hesitant voice, “I think you should fight violence with love.”
    â€œLove is the strongest force,” Helena agreed.
    But Eliza had insisted,