Read Online The Lesson by Suzanne Woods Fisher - Free Book Online Page B

Amish woman with concerned brown eyes. “Why would anybody, anywhere, in their right mind, EVER ride a scooter with their eyes closed?”
    The young woman pointed to the hill, flustered. “It’s just that it’s such a good . . . never mind.” She bit her lip. “I said I was sorry.”
    Chris squeezed murky water out of his sleeve. “You should be.”
    Now she started getting huffy. “Well, I’m not as sorry as I was a minute ago! Maybe you should look where you’re going.”
    “Maybe you should just LOOK. As in, keep your eyes open.”
    She started to sputter, as if she was gathering the words to give him a piece of her mind. But then she threw up her hands, muttered something about how this day was a complete disaster, hopped on her scooter, and zoomed away. The big yellow dog trotted placidly behind her.
    Chris wiped his face off with his sleeve. Amazing. That girl had the gall to be mad at him! The nerve!
    But she was cute. Very cute. That he happened to notice.

    Stoney Ridge was caught in the grip of an Indian summer. Long, hot days. Long, windless nights.
    Late Thursday night, Jimmy Fisher tossed pebbles up at M.K.’s window, but she didn’t come down like she usually did. This was their summertime system—he would drop by after being out late with his friends, and she would come down and meet him outside to hear all about it. She thought his friends were hopelessly immature, but she liked hearing about their shenanigans.
    Tonight, Jimmy and his friends had climbed the water tank in a neighboring town and dove into the reservoir, forty feet below. Such brave-hearted men. It made him proud to be in the company of these noble fellows. He wondered what M.K. would say about that. He tossed another pebble up at her window. Still nothing. As he looked around in the dark for something more substantial to toss at her window without breaking it and risking Fern’s wrath—something he had experienced on occasion and took pains to avoid—a police car pulled up the driveway. Jimmy hid behind the maple tree. His first thought was that Sheriff Hoffman had figured outwhat he had been doing tonight and had tracked him here. It might have happened once or twice before. But then the car pulled to a stop, the sheriff got out and opened the back door. M.K. bolted out, an angry look on her face.
    Wait. What?
    Oh, this was too good.
    If Jimmy were a more gallant man, he would quietly leave.
    But this was too good.
    The sheriff banged on the front door. In the quiet of the night, Jimmy could hear a pin drop. He heard M.K. try to convince the sheriff that she could handle things from here, but he didn’t pay her any mind. From where Jimmy stood, he could see the front door. He saw a beam of light through the windows as someone made his way to the door. Jimmy heard the click of the door latch opening, and there stood Amos in his pin-striped nightshirt, with Fern in her bathrobe, right behind him. Their eyes went wide as they took in the sheriff standing beside M.K., who looked very small.
    “I can explain everything!” M.K. started.
    The sheriff interrupted. “Sorry to bother you in the middle of the night, Amos. But I believe this young lady belongs to you.”
    Amos looked bewildered. Fern looked like she always looked, as if she had expected a moment such as this. “What has she done now?” Fern asked in a weary voice.
    “I found her disturbing a crime scene,” Sheriff Hoffman said.
    “That is not true!” M.K. said.
    Fern shook her head. “Was she trying to get in that poor farmer’s sheep pasture again?”
    The sheriff handed Amos, who still seemed stunned, a large flashlight. “Sure was.”
    “I wasn’t disturbing anything,” M.K. said. “I was looking for clues.”
    “I keep telling you, we don’t need any help solving crimes,” the sheriff said. He sounded thoroughly exasperated. He turned and headed to his car, then spun around. “You stay out of that pasture, Mary Kate Lapp.”
    Jimmy slipped behind