The Explosionist by Jenny Davidson Read Free Book Online

as bad as it might have been, the thought of another bomb going off made Sophie’s eyes water. As she washed and dressed and packed her things for school, she pretended not to have heard anything about the latest attack, but she felt jumpy and upset.
    To get to school she walked through Queen Street Gardens and down Hanover Street past the George Hotel to the Princes Street tram stop. The throngs of people passing up and down the street seemed more subdued than usual, andSophie had the feeling that any small unexpected noise would set off a mass panic.
    When the tram came, she wedged herself into a seat near the back as the vehicle began climbing Calton Hill in the direction of some of her favorite Edinburgh landmarks: the full-scale replica of the Parthenon built to honor the Scots who died in the Napoleonic Wars; the column in the shape of a telescope marking the achievements of Lord Nelson, whose great victory at Trafalgar had been the last bright spot before Wellington’s awful defeat at Waterloo. Sophie’s school sat on the hill’s lower slopes. Modeled on a classical temple, the Edinburgh Institution for Young Ladies had an enormous Doric portico with columns in the center of the main building and walkways along either side leading to the two wings.
    Not until after supper did Sophie find herself alone with Nan, Jean, and Priscilla, and it was a great relief when they behaved as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened on Friday morning. Priscilla asked Sophie for help with her sums, Nan gave a tedious account of the Saturday afternoon lacrosse scrimmage, and Jean returned Sophie’s buttonhook, borrowed the week before when her own went missing. Everything felt so familiar and comfortable that the strange feeling in Sophie’s stomach finally went away.
    In English that morning they had written responses to a famous writer’s assertion that if he had to choose betweenbetraying his country and betraying his friend, he hoped he would have the guts to betray his country. It was almost bedtime, but the girls were still arguing about whether it made any sense.
    “No true friend would ask such a thing,” Nan said. “A real friend would help you serve your country, not betray it.”
    “But that’s not the point,” Jean argued. “Isn’t there anybody in the world you care about so much that you’d really do anything for them?”
    “I’d give up my life for any one of my brothers,” said Nan, looking determined. “But my brothers would kill me— literally kill me!—if they thought I was about to betray my country.”
    “What if your brothers were all up in front of a firing squad and you could only save one of them?” Sophie asked. She liked this kind of conversation. “Which one would you pick, and why?”
    “Oh, I couldn’t possibly choose between them,” said Nan, her mouth set in a stubborn line.
    “But you must have a favorite,” Jean said, pressing for a better answer. “Everyone has a favorite, if they’re really being honest.”
    “That’s not true,” said Nan.
    “Yes, it is,” said Jean. “There are lots of people I love—my mother and my baby brother, for instance—but myfavorite person in the world is Priscilla.”
    Priscilla looked entirely unmoved by this tribute. Typical, thought Sophie, feeling annoyed.
    “I’d do anything to make sure Priscilla was safe,” Jean continued. “Even if it meant betraying my country—which it probably wouldn’t, of course.”
    “I agree with Jean about having a favorite person,” Priscilla said in a softer voice than usual. Sophie looked at her, thinking she sounded almost human for once. “My favorite person’s my father. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to him.”
    “What about you, Sophie?” Jean asked. “Who’s your favorite person, the person you’d do anything to protect?”
    Sophie couldn’t help it. Mr. Petersen’s face came irresistibly into her mind, and a flood of heat spread up over her neck and face.
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