- زمان مطالعه 7 دقیقه
- سطح خیلی ساده
دانلود اپلیکیشن «زیبوک»
این درس را میتوانید به بهترین شکل و با امکانات عالی در اپلیکیشن «زیبوک» بخوانید
متن انگلیسی درس
CHAPTER 8 Home
On the third day after the earthquake, good news came to Liberty Park. Mr Garcia had a radio in his car.
‘Silvia, come and listen!’ he called to her.
‘There will not be another earthquake,’ the newsreader said.
‘People can go back to their homes. Dangerous buildings have a white cross on the door. Do not go inside those buildings. Other buildings are safe. I will say that again …’
Mr Garcia and Silvia listened again. Then Mr Garcia turned the radio off.
‘Do you think it’s really safe?’ Silvia asked. ‘Do you think we can go home?’
Mr Garcia shook his head.
‘1 don’t know,’ he said. ‘But I know one thing. Your mother can’t stay here. We’ll take her home to her bed. You can look after her there.’
Everywhere in Liberty Park people asked questions. Many people were worried. Was the newsreader right? They were afraid of another earthquake. They wanted to stay in the country for another day or two. But other people wanted to go home. They started to move into the streets.
Silvia sat down next to her mother.
‘We’re going home, Mother,’ she said.
Mr Garcia carried Mrs Delgado carefully to his car. She was as light as a child. Silvia opened the back door of the car, and Mr Garcia put Mrs Delgado inside.
The journey into town took a long time. There was rubble everywhere, and in some places there were trees across the road.
Mr and Mrs Garcia sat in the front of the car and talked. They were worried about their flat, their friends and their neighbours.
Silvia sat in the back with her mother and looked out of the window. But she didn’t see the ruins, or the rubble, or the firemen. She didn’t hear the Garcias.
‘Will I see Gabriel again?’ she thought.
The car turned into the Delgados’ street and stopped outside their building.
‘Look! Look! It isn’t there!’ said Mrs Garcia.
‘What isn’t there?’ asked Silvia.
‘The white cross! There’s no white cross on our building. It’s safe! We can go home!’
Mrs Garcia jumped out of the car and ran up the stairs to her flat. Mr Garcia smiled at Silvia.
‘You go up first and open the door,’ he said. ‘My wife will come back in a minute. Then we’ll carry your mother up the stairs.’
Silvia went into the building and up the stairs. Then she stopped.
There was a man asleep in front of her door. He looked thin and ill. His face and clothes were dirty. And his arm . . . his h e a d . . .
‘Gabriel!’ she said.
Gabriel woke up and jumped to his feet. He didn’t sec Silvia in the dark. He only saw another thief!
‘You can’t come in here,’ he said. ‘This is the Delgados’ home.
No thieves here . . . ‘
‘Gabriel,’ said Silvia again.
Gabriel stopped talking. His head was hot. His legs felt weak.
He didn’t want to fall now. Not now.
‘Is it you?’ he said. ‘Is it really you?’
He had something in his hand
Silvia couldn’t see it very well.
Then she understood. It was a dirty, dead, red rose. She took it out of his hand.
‘Thank you, Gabriel,’ she said. ‘It’s beautiful.’
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