Secrets of Moldara by Brianne Earhart

Author:Brianne Earhart [Earhart, Brianne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Myth Machine
Published: 2018-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 29

“Lotty, you coming?”

I looked up to see Liza standing beside my desk. The class had passed in a whirlwind of lectures and diagrams, but I hadn’t been paying attention, thinking about what had happened last night during the storm. The thunder and lightning had sent Brandy off the rails, and we’d all rushed from the dinner table to find her kicking out the corner of her stall while the other horses snorted nervously.

Karen had finally calmed her and moved her to a different stall. Bill, Tyler, and I had worked late into the evening to repair it and the two new breaks we’d found in the pasture fence. My shoulders still ached from the extra work.

“Uh… Yeah, I’m coming,” I answered automatically. Pulling my thoughts back into the classroom, I quickly stood, snatched up my chemistry books, and joined Liza.

We rushed through the windowed hall toward English. By the look of the sky, it was going to be another very wet day. I sighed. After Daggon’s cryptic comments, I really needed some time riding Magnus, alone.

We arrived for English class, and I took a seat in the back where I had a full view of the room. Only seconds before the bell, Roah slipped through the door and into the first open seat at the front. I followed his moves, half hoping he would look up, but also hoping he wouldn’t.

He never did.

I could see only his back, but it was enough. As the minutes passed, every thought I had been able to ignore over the past few weeks fell into my brain like rain onto the roof, endlessly tapping me for attention. Daggon’s words seeped between the images that I couldn’t shut out, teasing my imagination with hope or despair, depending on how long I let the daydream carry me.

Class went on as normal, despite the raging storm outside. The lights flickered with the next crack of lightning, and several students cringed in their seats, which made me feel less like a chicken. Thunder shook the building, and a low murmur rippled through the room.

“People settle down,” Mrs. Land ordered. “It’s just a storm.”

She continued her lecture, but as the thunder grew in intensity, so did the reaction of the class. It was evident she was not amused.

“All right, if you want to talk, I’ll let you talk.” She paused and leaned over her desk as she gathered her thoughts. The whole class grew silent, wondering what the next hour would consist of.

“Everyone, grab your workbooks and stand up. Open to page fifty-six, the works of Lord Byron. In pairs of two, you will alternate reading stanzas aloud. And for the next twenty minutes or so, just to keep it lively, every time you hear this”—she rang a little brass bell from atop her desk—“you will quickly change reading partners, finding a different person each time. Any questions?”

The class groaned in unison as we flipped through our books looking for the assignment. At first, I was glad she didn’t pull out a pop quiz, as that was her habit.

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