The Boarding School Experiment by Emily Evans Read Free Book Online Page B

About a hundred yards out, the lead truck’s airbrakes whooshed and he turned. The semi backed our way, with the double doors facing us. Several kids made a backup beep sound.
    Their joke cut off when the earth shook. Branches on the Christmas trees swayed deep. The world was in motion. Several kids broke the line and ran screaming toward the building.
    “Earthquake,” Geneva said.
    I turned to follow the runners and another jolt made me throw my arms out for balance. Like a warrior two yoga position would save me.
    “Stay here,” Geneva yelled. “Remain in the open, away from the building.”
    Shelter sounded safer, but Geneva’s family was currently stationed in the Pacific-Northwest, so no doubt she knew better than a native Houstonian. The earth jolted again, and I fell back on my butt. A sharp kick landed on my ankle, and I rolled clear of a falling Kaitlin.
    “Sorry,” Kaitlin said, windmilling her arms, trying to stay up.
    Geneva fell next, sliding a foot. The truck’s screeching brakes made me turn back to the road.
    Boom. The ground cracked open with a sound like rocks falling on a gravel path—but louder, much louder. Boom.
    Gears squealed as the driver tried to shift forward, but his rear tire caught in the widening crack. The semi-truck’s trailer sank back, and the front end rose a foot off the ground, its tires suspended in mid-air, like a bucking horse at the rodeo. The driver leapt from the cab and sprinted toward the trees. The truck hung there for a moment, then the whole vehicle slipped backwards into the hole and disappeared from sight.
    The driver in the second truck jumped out next and ran toward the woods. A large fissure continued to split the black surface of the road like a piece of beef jerky. The widening chasm wrapped around the second truck. The weighted front end went down first and its tail flipped up in the air. Then it, too, vanished.
    The ground had consumed both trucks, the same way I ate candy from Dad’s Star Trek Pez dispenser—gone in seconds.
    The earth stopped moving, and in the crisp Alaskan stillness, only the sound of my pounding heartbeat remained.
    The coordinator’s voice rang out with commanding adult authority. “Inside now. Everyone inside.”
     

Chapter Four
     
    We trudged back down to the amphitheater, instinctively gathering again.
    The director ran a hand over his head and stuck his lips near the microphone. “Earthquakes are common here. You all handled yourselves very well. No injuries.”
    I flexed my bruised ankle and stared at him.
    “The building may have sustained some minor damage. Nothing for you to worry about. This is an important time for you to review your pamphlet on earthquakes. If you are outside, stay where you are. If you are inside, get under a sturdy table. It’s that simple.”
    Simple? He had a different definition than me. The ground just ate our stuff.
    “Unfortunately, your things are not quite recoverable.”
    I wrapped my arms around my waist. Kaitlin and Geneva tensed beside me. Several girls started to cry. I’ve been through worse than this . I repeated the thought like a litany because an earthquake on top of all my stuff being gone unnerved me far more than it should have.
    The microphone squeaked, and the sound reverberated throughout the amphitheater. “We’ve stocked plenty of uniforms, and we’ll distribute them early. You’ll have everything you need. If there’s something we don’t provide, get in contact with your coordinator.”
    “OMG,” Kaitlin said, true horror in her voice.
    The director held up a hand. “Some of you may have noticed that the shiny plastic eggs mounted on the cafeteria walls have your names on them.”
    Murmurs erupted from the students. Okay, that was random.
    “I want my stuff.” Kaitlin’s gaze shifted to the exit. “What eggs?”
    “I didn’t see them,” Geneva said.
    “By the food preparation room,” I said. “It looks like Easter.”
    “Those are treats, and the