Read Online The War that Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley - Free Book Online Page B

been sitting in the main room of Miss Smith’s house, on the squishy purple chairs and sofa. Miss Smith had made tea. Now she smiled quizzically at the teacher and said, “Ada too, of course.”
    I don’t know how I looked, but Jamie’s and the teacher’s mouths fell open. The teacher’s mouth closed first. “Ada’s not on our list,” she said. “I told you that when I gave you their mother’s address. We’ve only got Jamie down.”
    Jamie said, “Ada’s not allowed to go outside.”
    I said fiercely, “That’s rubbish, it was only ever in London and you know it.”
    “But not school, ” said Jamie.
    I’d never been. Never thought about going. But why not? I could get there on my crutches, it wasn’t that far.
    Miss Smith argued that lists didn’t matter. Surely the lists weren’t accurate, and besides, many of the children had already gone back to London. There had to be room for me.
    “Room, yes,” the teacher said slowly, “but is it appropriate?” She stood and took a book off one of Miss Smith’s shelves. “Here,” she said, holding it open and out to me, “read a bit of that.”
    I looked at the page. The rows of marks blurred and swam before my eyes. I looked up. The teacher nodded. Miss Smith came over and put her arm around me. I tried to pull away, but Miss Smith held on.
    “You see,” the teacher said softly, “she isn’t educable.”
    I didn’t know what educable meant. I didn’t know if I was educable or not.
    “She simply hasn’t been taught,” Miss Smith said. “She’s far from stupid. She deserves a chance.”
    The teacher shook her head. “It wouldn’t be fair to the others.”
    The door clicked softly as she left. Miss Smith grabbed my shoulders with both hands. “Don’t cry,” she said. “Don’t cry, she isn’t right, I know you can learn. Don’t cry.”
    Why would I cry? I never cried. But when I shook myself free of Miss Smith’s grasp, tears shook loose from my eyes and slid down my cheeks. Why would I cry? I wanted to hit something, or throw something, or scream. I wanted to gallop on Butter and never stop. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t run, not with my twisted, ugly, horrible foot. I buried my head in one of the fancy pillows on the sofa, and then I couldn’t help it, I did cry.
    I was so tired of being alone.
    Miss Smith sat down on the sofa beside me. She put her hand on my back. I squirmed away. “Don’t worry,” she said, almost like she cared about me. “They’re wrong. We’ll find another way.
    “I know you aren’t stupid,” she continued. “Stupid people couldn’t take care of their brother the way you do. Stupid people aren’t half as brave as you. They’re not half as strong.”
    Stupid. Simple. Educable. Thoughtful. All just words. I was so tired of meaningless words.

    That night, after our baths, Miss Smith came to the doorway of our bedroom before we fell asleep. She hesitated. “I’ve brought something,” she said. “This was my favorite book when I was a little girl. My father used to read it to me at bedtime. I thought I’d start reading it to you.”
    I turned my head away. More words. Jamie asked, “Why, miss?”
    “I wish you’d quit calling me miss ,” she said, pulling the chair close to Jamie’s side of the bed. “My name is Susan. You should call me that. I’m reading to you because I think you’ll enjoy it.”
    Jamie said, “Why would we enjoy it?”
    Miss Smith didn’t answer. She said, “This book is called The Swiss Family Robinson . Listen.” She cleared her throat and began. “‘For many days we had been tempest-tossed. Six times darkness closed over a wild and terrific scene...’”
    I buried my head deeper into my pillow. The drone of her voice sounded like a fly buzzing against a window. I fell asleep.

    In the morning, though, those first words stuck in my head until I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Miss?” I said at breakfast. “What’s ‘tempest-tossed’?”
    Miss Smith