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

the unseemly chaos. After picking her way through fallen music stands and frayed violin bows, she found Professor Carroll in his office. The nameplate on his door hung crooked.
    “Professor Carroll?” Victoria said.
    He sat at his desk with his back to Victoria, facing a window overlooking the Academy lawn.
    She tried again, her palms sweating. She hoped the report’s ink didn’t smear. “Professor Carroll?”
    Professor Carroll turned slowly around in his chair.
    “Miss Wright,” he said in a voice much cheerier thanVictoria had ever heard him use. “What can I do for you today?”
    “Well, I—” began Victoria, but she had to stop and stare, because Professor Carroll’s too-wide, too-bright smile was just the same as the Prewitts’ too-wide, too-bright smiles. The smile had frozen with his teeth just slightly apart. His eyes gleamed like they had been freshly polished.
    Beneath the reams of paper scattered across Professor Carroll’s desk, something rustled. Three pens rolled off the desk and hit the floor.
    Victoria jumped back.
    Professor Carroll’s hand whipped out and smacked the moving paper.
    The paper fell silent.
    “Well?” Professor Carroll said, tilting his head at Victoria. “Do speak, Miss Wright.”
    Victoria leaned in closer for a good, hard dazzle. “Are you all right? Because you don’t seem like it.”
    “I’m doing quite well, thank you, Miss Wright. What about you?”
    Victoria thrust the report at him before she could talk herself out of it. “I got a B this quarter.”
    Professor Carroll slowly looked down at the report. “Ah, yes, I see that.”
    Victoria took a deep breath, ignoring the cold in the room and the papers on the desk, which had started rustling again and clicking and scratching.
    “I was wondering if I could do any sort of extra credit to—”
    “No need to worry about that, Miss Wright,” said Professor Carroll as he delicately took the report from her. He used the Academy deblotter to erase the horrid B and stamp an A in its place. He uncapped his pen and scribbled new comments about Victoria’s dedication to her craft.
    “Such a good, well-behaved girl,” Professor Carroll went on. As he spoke, he changed her grade in his ledger from B to A. “Good girls who do as they’re told get all sorts of treats. Remember that, won’t you? Remember how I helped you.”
    It seemed too easy, but Victoria didn’t dare interrupt. Staring at the A, she could hardly breathe. Her heart soared. It was done. She stared at the fresh black A. Everything should have been perfect. With this A, her future was now safe. She could show her parents a spotless report, and they would smile proudly and show her off to their friends, who of course had much less remarkable children. And best of all, Victoria could now look Jill Hennessey right in the eye and gloat—tastefully, of course. One mustn’t be obnoxious.
    But that same sick feeling churned in Victoria’s stomachas she took the report from Professor Carroll. He sat there, staring at her and smiling. It wasn’t right, that smile. They weren’t right, those hard, gleaming eyes.
    “Really, is something wrong?” she said.
    “Now, now,” said Professor Carroll, “off with you. Leave me alone.” He turned back to the window, tapping his fingers on the papers, which rustled happily. He bobbed his head from side to side and hummed a minuet. It reminded Victoria of Lawrence, and she couldn’t seem to move her feet to leave.
    Suddenly, Professor Carroll said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it!” His voice sounded more normal that time—not as cheery, and more like the professor who drilled them on scales. He jerked around in his chair and fell silent.
    Victoria stared at him. “Sorry for what?” she whispered.
    But Professor Carroll only smiled and sighed, much calmer now, and said, “Ah,” as if welcoming home an old friend. His smile stretched even wider.
    Several sets of gleaming black feelers poked out of the