The Cavendish Home for Boys and Girls by Claire Legrand Read Free Book Online

Again Mr. Prewitt opened the door with a smile and patted Victoria’s head. Again Mrs. Prewitt stood smiling and stirring. And again Lawrence was upstate.
    “But—” Victoria said, getting frustrated. She needed Lawrence to go with her to Professor Carroll’s office that morning. If Professor Carroll didn’t change her grade, she would have to show her parents the report. She couldn’t forge their signatures; she just couldn’t commit a criminal act. It had kept her up the last few nights, as had the tree outside her window with its strangely metallic taps.
    “Lawrence’s grandmother loves him so much,” said Mrs. Prewitt reassuringly.
    “But when will he be back?” Victoria insisted, and she stamped her foot before she could stop herself.
    The stamp must have triggered something. Cold rushed in, blowing the door open. For a flash of a second, Mr. and Mrs. Prewitt’s pretty smiles changed into enormous, wolfish grins. Mrs. Prewitt’s fingers clutched her bowl so hard that it smashed into pieces. Hundreds of fat black berries rolled across the floor like bugs. Victoria stared and wondered if they really were bugs, because some of them seemed a bit . . .  leggy .
    “Lawrence will be back as soon as he’s ready,” said Mr. Prewitt, his voice strangely quiet, his smile stiff and bright. Mrs. Prewitt stepped next to Mr. Prewitt, her shiny shoes squashing the berries. They stank like food gone bad, burning Victoria’s nose.
    “It’s so nice of you to ask, Victoria,” said Mrs. Prewitt. She smiled, folding her hands at her waist. Her face and eyes were sharper, harder. “Lawrence is lucky to have such a caring friend.”
    Victoria refused to be frightened by them and their rotten berries and their strange, wolfish smiles. Instead, she said, “Thank you so much, I’m so sorry to be a bother, please do tell Lawrence I miss him,” and smiled and shook their cold, hard hands just to be extra polite. Then she walked away with her head held high.
    “Such a nice girl,” Mr. Prewitt whispered to his wife.
    Victoria pretended not to notice the goose bumps down her back. She tried not to think about how she had been afraid just then. She tried not to think about Lawrence. She thought only of her B. Focus, Victoria , she told herself over and over till her hands stopped shaking. Focus.
    Later that day, the lunch bell rang at eleven forty-five. Victoria rushed from biology to the restroom and waited for traffic to die down. Then she peeked out and snuck across the south courtyard to Building Five, where the music rooms were. This almost sent her into fits. Sneaking around during lunch was definitely not allowed.
    Lawrence loved Building Five. He often said it felt more like home than his own home.
    Victoria had always thought that a silly thing to say, but now it seemed strangely endearing. Lawrence’s face popped into her head—his lazy eyes, his messy hair, his crooked smile. She missed his humming.
    At Building Five’s front doors, she said to herself, “What? I don’t miss his humming .” She tugged hard on the doors and stepped inside.
    As she walked, she hid her report behind her back, even though the halls were empty. The idea of what she was about to do terrified her so completely that she couldn’t bring herselfto care about the scuttling black shapes following her in the line where the floor met the walls. The whole town could be infested with bugs and it wouldn’t matter. As long as she could get her A, she’d put up with a thousand bugs a thousand times over.
    She knocked on Professor Carroll’s door. No one answered. Before she lost her nerve, she set her jaw and let herself in.
    Sunlight streamed through dirty windows into the main classroom, where pianos lined the walls and stood in rows across the room—black baby grands, open and waiting, keys shining. Sheet music covered everything in teetering stacks, strewn across keyboards, trailing between bench legs.
    Victoria wrinkled her nose at