A Lancaster Amish School for Jacob: A Home for Jacob, #4

By Rachel Stoltzfus

School. Tests. Peril.

When Jacob's Amish schoolhouse is threatened by a State teacher who wants to sacrifice their education on the alter of standardized testing, will Jacob and his friends be able to save their school, or will Jacob's attempt to help cost him his new life and home in Lancaster County?

Common core testing has come to Philadelphia orphan turned Amish teen Jacob's one room Lancaster Amish schoolhouse, and Jacob wants nothing to do with it. Kindly Mrs. Yoder, their current teacher, knows nothing about the tests or what they involve, and when Jacob tries to warn her and the other students about the disaster that looms, they tease and ignore him. But when the test arrives in the hands of the wicked State schoolteacher Ms. Smith, it's even worse than Jacob predicted, and it's up to Jacob, Mark, Jeremiah and Eli hatch a plan to rid the community of the tests, Common Core and Ms. Smith in the bargain.

Will Jacob and his friends save their school from a cycle of never-ending testing, or will Jacob's attempt to help lead to the loss of his family and the life he's built in Lancaster County?

Find out in Book 4 of the Bestselling Home for Jacob series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Global Grafx Press
• Release date: Dec 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781502218490

Book preview

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

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I have to thank God first and foremost for the gift of my life and the life of my family. I also have to thank my family for putting up with my crazy hours and how stressed out I can get as I approach a deadline. In addition, I must thank the ladies at Global Grafx Press for working with me to help make my books the best they can be. And last, I thank you, for taking the time to read this book. God Bless!

CHAPTER ONE

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Jacob held on for dear life as the buggy raced toward the tree line directly in front of him. He took a sidelong glance at Mark who was sitting in the seat next to him, also hanging on for dear life. His knuckles were white and his face pale and frozen in an expression of permanent horror. He had apparently given up all hope of getting the horse to stop.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what had gone wrong here. The Carver boys in all of their wisdom had challenged Mark to a buggy race across the field, and Mark, being Mark, had happily agreed.

Mark had gone to great lengths to make sure that no one saw him hitching the horse, or taking the buggy for that matter. In fact he'd been so careful, he'd barely noticed that he'd taken the wrong horse. How he'd managed to hook an untamed horse to the buggy was anyone's guess, but it had happened, and here they were. Well actually, one couldn't say that they were anywhere as they were moving rapidly toward their demise.

I pictured myself dying a lot of ways, Jacob said as he stared wide eyed out the front buggy window, watching the trees move closer and closer. Shot, stabbed, killed for the bag of skittles I used to keep under my pillow, but nothing like this.

What are Skittles? Mark asked with a shaky voice.

How do you not know Skittles? Jacob asked incredulously. It was definitely an odd question. He'd been to Mark's house more than once and noticed that their icebox was full of Mountain Dew. For being a people who had rejected society and all things related, they certainly loved their caffeinated drinks.

Do you think this is really the time?! Mark shouted back as the horse picked up speed. They had about thirty seconds left, if that. A few moments ago, when they'd started this ride to their doom, Mark had actually tried getting the horse to stop by pulling the reigns and literally screaming Woah! at the top of his lungs. He had been rewarded with the horse jerking forward, liberating the reigns, and slamming Mark's face against the Plexiglas shield. The reigns were now long gone, fallen through the gap, and Mark's face covered in bright red blood. It was a stark contrast against his pale skin and blond hair.

It was almost as if he'd tried out for the part of a circus clown and failed miserably. Jacob decided to keep his laughs to himself and concentrate on the situation at hand. What was the best way out of this situation? Was there one? He thought long and hard about diving from the carriage, but his stomach lurched every time he thought about slamming into the ground. What if he landed wrong? Or worse, what if he were caught under the carriage? The last thing he wanted to do was lose his legs at only 14 years old. They already had enough reason to make fun of him here; walking around on two peg legs would just make things worse.

What are you thinking? Mark shouted. It was a really inappropriate time to ask while they were thirty seconds from death. Jacob simply turned in the seat and looked at him, as the horse came to an abrupt stop, causing both of them to slam into the front of the carriage. Jacob shouted in pain as he found himself sliding to the floor, the rush of adrenaline from the fast moving carriage suddenly replaced by the urge to scream out in pain. It was only momentary, however, and he quickly found himself on his knees, peeking out the Plexiglas window, staring at the horse. It seemed to have stopped for no particular reason, and was simply standing in the open field, mere meters from the deadly tree line.

Don't tell me God doesn't answer prayer, Mark said, his voice sounded a bit nasally, and when Jacob looked over to investigate, he noticed that Mark was actually holding his damaged nose, as if that would somehow stop the pain.

I didn't hear you praying, Jacob said as he pulled himself back onto the buggy seat. He silently cursed the builders of these things for never including seat belts.

God hears the silent prayer, too, Mark said. And, trust me, I was praying.

Jacob grunted a bit, but his next statement was interrupted by the sound of the driver side door being pulled aside. They both looked to the left, surprised to say the least, when they saw Sarah standing there with an almost disappointed expression on her face. 

Sarah was the closest thing Jacob had to a sister here in Hope Crossing. Not long ago, he'd been an orphan living in a poorly equipped group home – the only home he'd ever known up to that point. Now, thanks to a few strings pulled by his exhausted social worker, he was an orphan living in Hope Crossing – the nearest Amish community.

It had been a major change for the better in his life, but now that he thought about it, he could barely remember the last time he was in the city. It had been an adjustment. There wasn't much he missed about life in the city, but there were so many things that weren't readily available anymore. Taking a trip to the store was a family affair, and there were the little things, like radios, and televisions, but mostly radios. He'd owned a small transistor radio back in the city. It wasn't much, but during those long, dreary nights, locked in that small room, it had been his only window to the outside world. Except of course for the times he'd snuck out, which ultimately led him here, to this place. Hope Crossing. Here there was no radio and even less world.

It was usually no surprise to see Sarah. She liked to pop up in the most unexpected places, but here, and now, that was a bit strange.

What are you doing here? Jacob asked, looking past Mark who simply continued to cradle his nose. For the first time, Jacob noticed the blood mark running down the windshield where Mark had managed to crack his nose.

You're asking ME that? Sarah said, her voice high and her chest puffed. What are YOU doing here?

We were taking the buggy out for a test...drive, Mark offered helpfully as he rested his head against the seat, staring at the ceiling of the buggy. He was noticeably slouched in the seat and could simply slide off like a poorly positioned rag doll at any moment.

You mean you weren't racing it? She said, raising an eyebrow.

Oh they were too racing, A new voice chimed in. At the sound of it, Jacob sat up straight, nearly smashing his head against the roof of the buggy. It was Deborah. Of course, it was Deborah.

He looked about and tried to make sense of what was going on. Somehow, against all odds or logic for that matter, Sarah and Deborah had known precisely what they were doing and where they would end up.

Look, Jacob said. I really have to ask—

Nope, Sarah said, raising a finger in the air and wagging it, as she often liked to do when she thought she was right. I think it's your turn to listen now, unless of course you want Daed to find out what you did here.

Jacob cringed. Thomas wasn't one to take to violence, but he knew how to dish out punishments. No point in running afoul of his temper, and nearly killing oneself was probably something that would make him a bit testy.

Okay, Jacob said, opening the passenger side door and making his way around the back of the buggy to face Deborah and Sarah. Deborah giggled a bit and for some reason he found himself glaring