The Cavendish Home for Boys and Girls Read Online Free PDF Page A

Alban—Victoria was back in her element.
    She took her seat in the front row, folded her hands, and waited for Professor Alban to begin his lecture. She very much approved of Professor Alban. The other students complained about him because he was new. “He assigns toomuch work to make up for the fact that he doesn’t know what he’s doing,” they said.
    But Victoria thought Professor Alban knew exactly what he was doing. He did give them too much work, but it was a challenge, and Victoria liked nothing better than a challenge.
    Nothing better, except for the sound of her name being called out at the year’s-end ceremonies. Every year since kindergarten: Victoria Wright, top of the class.
    VICTORY .
    Abruptly, Victoria remembered that perhaps she wouldn’t hear her name this year. What if she never recovered from this B? What if instead she heard, “Jill Hennessey, top of the class”?
    Unacceptable. That wouldn’t happen. It couldn’t . She would find a way to win.
    All during class, Victoria took such fervent notes that her hand froze into a claw. Professor Alban kept glancing at her like he feared it would snap off. At the end of his lecture, he passed out a short quiz. Victoria snatched her paper. Behind her, Jill Hennessey snatched her paper. Their pencils scratched harder now, and it hurt a bit, but it was all worth it.
    Victoria finished first, Jill just after. The bell rang. Victoria ran to Professor Alban’s desk and slammed down her quiz. Jill did the same, shoving Victoria out of the way.
    “Whoops.” Jill laughed. “You’d better watch out, Victoria. You’ll get run right over.” Then she vanished out the door.
    Victoria glared after her, seething. Professor Alban stared after Jill too. Victoria noticed for the first time that he looked a bit ill. His skin was pale, and his forehead was all furrowed like he was thinking about something really hard.
    That same coldness crept through the air again. Victoria had never been one for fantasizing about things, but the cold had a skinny, stinging feel to it, like the cord of a whip or a snake on the prowl.
    Victoria shivered.
    Professor Alban shivered.
    Their eyes met. Professor Alban took off his glasses and cleaned them, put them back on, and forced a smile. “How’s your hand, Miss Wright?”
    Victoria said sharply, “It hurts,” and left.
    That day, she didn’t wait for Lawrence at the front of the school as she usually did. Basking in the satisfaction of beating everyone at everything all day, she walked right past their usual meeting spot and didn’t even think about it. Later, once Lawrence was gone, she would remember this and feel sick to her stomach.
    But it wasn’t later yet, so she happily walked home alone, making sure to click her shoes just so on the cobbled walkdown INSPIRATION , away from the prim silver circus of cars in front of the Academy.
    Finally, it felt like autumn. It had arrived late this year, summer stretching into late September. Now the air had that firewood chill to it. The sky seemed muted, burrowing into its own gray, waiting. The angry wind yanked red and gold and dying leaves down the street. It yanked Victoria and her curls along with them. Finally, at the corner of Silldie Place and Bourdon’s Landing, the wind yanked out Victoria’s hair ribbon.
    She watched in horror as it flew down the road, a sensible satin pink mixed up in all the leaves.
    “Oh, no you don’t,” she said to the wind.
    She ran after it, dodging clumps of mud and dirty puddles. For a moment Victoria wondered about that because it hadn’t rained lately, but then a gust zipped her ribbon even farther away, and she was running too hard to wonder. The wind pushed her on, keeping the swirl of leaves that had her ribbon just out of reach. She passed Six Silldie Place, where Mr. Tibbalt’s little red dog snapped at the gate. She paused to glare at its ugly, mashed-in face. It stared right back for a moment and then, just when Victoria’s eyes