SHAKESPEARE’ SECRET Read Online Free

school might be different, that here she would somehow reinvent herself and end up accepted, liked, even popular. Sometimes that small bubble of hope lingered for weeks. This time, even though the bubble had burst, at least it had all happened quickly.
    Hero climbed onto the bus. Aaron was waving his baseball cap at her. As she settled into the seat behind him, she thought for the first time that day about Mrs. Roth, who was expecting her to stop by on the way home.

CHAPTER
4
    The school bus groaned to a halt at the street corner. Hero hurried down the steps and jumped lightly to the sidewalk. Three older boys stood in an intimidating huddle at the street sign, and she ducked her head as she walked past.
    â€œBye, Hero,” Aaron yelled, racing toward his front yard. Hero started to call out to him, but she noticed the boys were watching her, so instead she lifted one arm to wave. The junior high bus must have come a while ago. Beatrice would be home already.
    Until Hero reached the edge of Mrs. Roth’s yard, she hadn’t fully decided whether or not to stop. She wanted to hear about the diamond. But she felt so battered by the school day that she wasn’t sure she had the energy to be with anyone, even if all she had to do was listen. But then, as she glanced at the lush jungleof flowers, she saw Mrs. Roth sitting on her front stoop, reading the newspaper. Again she was dressed in a crisp blouse and long pants, oblivious to the wilting heat.
    Hero stopped at the gate. “Hi,” she called uncertainly.
    Mrs. Roth looked up. “Well, hello! I didn’t realize it was so late. How was your first day?”
    Hero shrugged. “Pretty much the same as always. A little worse, maybe.”
    Mrs. Roth looked at her for a minute, then patted the step. “Come sit down,” she said. “You can help me with the crossword. Then I’ll keep my promise and tell you about the Murphy diamond.”
    The wooden boards of the porch were warm from the sun and creaked agreeably as Hero sat down. Mrs. Roth spread the newspaper between them, handing Hero the pen she was holding.
    â€œFive letters, exhausted,” she said. “There’s a y at the end.”
    â€œWeary,” said Hero promptly.
    â€œOh, yes, excellent. Fill it in.”
    Hero carefully wrote the word in block letters. She scanned the remaining clues.
    â€œEight letters, one who hopes,” she read.
    â€œOptimist,” said Mrs. Roth.
    They took turns with the pen until the puzzle was almost complete. Then Mrs. Roth slid the paper onto Hero’s lap.
    â€œTry to finish it. I’ll fix us something to eat.”
    Hero considered the remaining blanks until Mrs. Roth returned carrying a tray with two rippled green glasses of iced tea and a china plate heaped with wedges of cinnamon toast. They ate silently for a few minutes, looking at the puzzle. Hero licked her fingers. She hadn’t had cinnamon toast in a long time. The crunchy sweetness reminded her of the elaborate tea parties she and Beatrice used to organize underneath the kitchen table when they were little.
    â€œWell, I suppose we’ll have to throw in the towel,” Mrs. Roth said eventually. “I’ve grown too attached to these crosswords anyway. It’s an ’old lady’ habit, I’m afraid. I never used to bother with them. But now I find it gratifying to solve their little mysteries.”
    Hero nodded. “I read somewhere that it’s supposed to be good for old people to do crossword puzzles. It’ll keep you from getting senile.”
    Mrs. Roth smiled. “That certainly is an advantage.”
    She collected the dishes and carried them into the house, her voice echoing from somewhere inside. “Do you know who used to do the crosswords with me?
    Arthur Murphy’s wife, Eleanor. Did you have a chance to tell your classmates you’re living in the Murphy diamond house?”
    â€œNot exactly,” Hero