The Visconti House by Elsbeth Edgar Read Free Book Online

smile and nodded. Even if she wanted to, how could she explain everything that had happened? How could she explain Leon?
    She made a desperate effort to pull herself together. “I’m fine, just a bit tired. We’ve had some friends staying with us, some late nights.” That sounded normal. She didn’t have to explain that the friends were Harry and Isabella, nor that the late nights were spent having dinner in a room decorated with ivy and velvet. Laura changed the subject. “I have a project on medieval feasts. I need to find some information on the food they would have eaten.”
    “You’re in the wrong spot,” observed Ms. McAlister. “This is the geography section.”
    Laura knew the librarian didn’t believe her, but fortunately a skirmish near the entrance of the library drew Ms. McAlister away to investigate. Seizing the momentary reprieve, Laura hurried to the history section. There she found a pile of books and carried them to a table. Her mind went back to her mantra.
If only I didn’t have to go to school. If only I could just stayhome.
She pictured her little corner in her big room, the comfort of her blankets and cushions, the pleasure of her things, her dragon book with its delicate drawings and careful anatomical descriptions. . . .
    She stopped, her thoughts seared with pain. She could never finish her dragon book now. Miss Grisham and Kylie had destroyed it for her. Destroyed it forever.
    She tried to focus on an illustration of a medieval feast. Graceful ladies in flowing robes with coned hats and pointed shoes were seated at a long table, conversing with slender young men in doublets and hose. They looked happy, in a delicate sort of way. On the table was a large platter with a huge bird on it. Medieval people ate all sorts of birds, she read. Swans, peacocks, pheasants, and guinea fowl. Large birds were often stuffed with parts of smaller birds. A quail inside a duck inside a chicken inside a swan. Laura frowned, wondering what Harry would make of that, but the thought of Harry made her want to cry again, so she read on. There were no potatoes in England in the fourteenth century, the book said, and very little salt, which would mean never having fries. Warm, greasy, salty, sweet-smelling fries. She then remembered that she hadn’t had lunch andthere was the whole afternoon to get through on an empty stomach. Laura stared at the revelers in their embroidered clothes, enjoying their laden table and aching to transport herself there. Or anywhere, so long as it was far, far away from school.
    She closed the book with a bang. How would she ever survive the afternoon?

By the time the bell finally rang at the end of the day, Laura was feeling utterly crushed. She trailed down the road, munching through the duck sandwiches that Harry had packed for her lunch. She barely tasted them, wondering how on earth she was going to endure four and a quarter more years of school before she would be free. She was almost at the train crossing before she realized that she was not alone; Leon was walking beside her.
    “How long have you been there?” she snapped.
    “Been where?”
    “There. Here. Following me.”
    “I wasn’t following you.”
    Laura eyed him disbelievingly. “I can look after myself, you know. I don’t need you trailing around.”
    “Oh, yeah? Like you were looking after yourself at lunchtime?”
    Laura swallowed the last of her sandwich andfolded the wrapper into a little square. “That was different.”
    Leon raised an eyebrow.
    They crossed the train tracks, and he turned toward his grandmother’s house. Mrs. Murphy was in the garden, digging. She looked up at the sound of their voices, brushing back her gray hair with a dirty hand, which left smudges of soil mixed with sweat on her forehead.
    “Hello, Grandma,” said Leon.
    Mrs. Murphy straightened up. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”
    Laura was horrified.
I am
not
his friend,
she thought, looking across at