Chapter Eleven
“It is with deep regret,” Liz read aloud from a notice on the bulletin board, “that I must inform the student body of the unexpected death of Clayton Appleby’s father.”
“Oh, no,” I whispered. “Poor Clayton.”
Many other students crowded around to listen as Liz continued reading.
“Clayton will be leaving the academy this evening to attend the funeral of his father and will not return to classes this year, because he will be needed at home to help with his family hardware business. Please join me in wishing Clayton well in his future endeavors. Signed, Octavia Pompeii, Headmistress.”
* * * * *
Late on a sunny afternoon, just before the supper hour, I lined up with the other ninety-eight remaining cadets. We were in class formation in front of the administration building.
