SummerHill Secrets, Volume 1 Read Free Page A

protect Lissa. Or to somehow get her linked up with her Philadelphia grandmother, the one who talked to God.
    Staring out the window, I watched the familiar landmarks on SummerHill Lane. Thick rows of graceful willows separated our property from the Zooks’, our Amish neighbors. Acres of rich farmland stretched away from the dirt road. A white fence surrounded their pasture. Near Abe Zook’s brick farmhouse, one of his horses, Apple, was being hitched up to a gray buggy.
    We zipped past a field of drying brown cornstalks. The oldest Zook boys, Curly John and Levi, were working the field, harvesting the remaining stalks with a mule-drawn corn picker.
    I snapped out of my daze when I saw Levi. Tall and just sixteen, Levi was the cutest Amish boy around. I’d saved his life once. He’d nearly drowned in the pond out behind our houses when his foot got caught in some willow roots. It happened the year after my own personal tragedy, when I was eight and Levi was nine. But in my mind, it was as clear as yesterday.
    “I’ll get myself hitched up with you someday, Merry Hanson,” Levi Zook had said. I figured he had beans for brains, since the Amish church forbids baptized Amish from marrying “English,” as they called us non-Amish folk.
    I leaned toward the window, accidentally bumping Chelsea. She glanced up, half snorting when she spied Levi. “I guess you wanna hand sew all your clothes and survive without electricity for the rest of your life.”
    “Not me,” I said, backing away from the window.
    Farther down the lane, we passed the old cemetery, where gravestones lay scattered across a tree-lined meadow. Stark and lonely. A lump sprang up in my throat, but I forced it down, purposely looking away.
    As we neared the end of the lane, a group of Amish kids, two on scooters and all carrying lunch boxes, waited at the intersection. One boy caught my eye and smiled a toothless grin under the shadow of his black felt hat. It was Aaron Zook, Levi’s little brother. I waved.
    The bus came to a grinding stop, and the Amish kids crossed, heading for the one-room schoolhouse a half mile away. The older girls held hands with little brothers and sisters as our school bus waited. It set my thoughts spinning back to Lissa. She had no big sister or brother to look after her. Being an only child had to be tough, especially in an abusive family. Waves of worry rushed over me.
    At school, I scurried to my locker, wondering how I could concentrate on Mr. Wilson’s test with Lissa in such a mess.
    Unloading my things, I spied Jonathan Klein coming toward me, wearing a heart-stopping grin. A perpetual honor student, Jonathan always snagged top grades in Mr. Wilson’s class. He looked confident enough.
    “Merry, mistress of mirth. Ready for Mr. Wilson’s wonderful world of terrible, tough, terminal tests?”
    I scanned the history outline one last time. “Tearfully trying,” I replied, playing our little game.
    “Good going.” He laughed. “Can you beat this one? Every eventful historical example ends up on Mr. Wilson’s engaging exams.” The Alliteration Wizard was two jumps ahead of me. His brown eyes sparkled. Looked like he’d had a full night’s sleep. No runaways in his closet.
    I accompanied him to his locker and tried to conjure up a clever response. Then it spilled out. “Each enormous expanse of energy excites brain cells—” I caught my breath.
    Way at the end of the hallway, a police officer—Lissa’s father—was marching through the crowd of students. Heading straight for me!
    “Jon, quick! Stand in front of me,” I said, squeezing into his open locker.
    “What’re you doing?” His eyes filled with questions.
    “Fake it!” I whispered through clenched teeth. “Pretend you’re hanging up your jacket.” My heart thumped so loudly I just knew the noise would lead Mr. Vyner straight to his target. Me!

Chapter
5
    I held my breath as seconds sauntered by. At last, I peered around Jonathan’s jacket.