The Visconti House Read Online Free PDF Page B

Grisham had opened the door and was stepping outside. Laura looked down at her feet. At least Miss Grisham would never see
her
book, but a little part of it was lost forever, and Laura felt anger rising within her. She lifted her eyes and faced Miss Grisham.
    “Now perhaps you can tell me what that was all about, Laura,” her teacher said.
    “I am sorry, but I don’t think so,” replied Laura.
    Miss Grisham gasped again. “Really, Laura, I don’t know what has gotten into you. You have always been such a good student.”
    Laura clenched her hand more tightly around thefragments of paper and said nothing. Miss Grisham stared at her. She stared at her for so long, Laura thought they were going to be standing there until the bell rang.
    “I don’t know what to do with you,” said Miss Grisham eventually. “You have the potential to do really well, Laura, but you never put in quite enough effort. And now this.” Laura’s eyes slid back to the poster. “Is there something troubling you? Something wrong at home?”
    “No!” Laura spoke too vehemently and saw that her teacher did not believe her.
Just like Miss Grisham to misinterpret everything,
she thought. Miss Grisham was looking at her with pity and concern now instead of anger. Laura wondered what appalling things she was imagining.
    “Well, I’m going to let you off this time, Laura, but if something like this happens again, I shall have to speak to Mr. Jameson.”
    “Yes, Miss Grisham.”
    “Now come back inside.”
    “Yes, Miss Grisham.”
    Laura followed her into the classroom and sat down, aware of the battery of eyes still on her. Would she ever live this down? This was the sort of thingpeople remembered forever. She would always be the girl who tore up a piece of paper in front of Miss Grisham. She felt a lump in her throat. Could things get any worse?
    As soon as the class was over, Laura bolted for the gate, abandoning all thoughts of picking up her bag. Any homework would just have to wait. If she went to the locker room, she would face a barrage of questions. She set off at a fast pace but was only halfway down the hill when Leon appeared beside her.
    “So what was on the paper?” he asked, a hint of laughter in his voice.
    “Something.”
    Leon watched her for a moment, then said, “You and I are alike, you know.”
    “We are not!” Laura flashed, turning an outraged face toward him.
    “We both have secrets.”
    “Everyone has secrets.” She started to walk faster.
    “Not like ours.”
    Laura shot him a furious look. “I don’t have secrets. I just didn’t want everyone to see. I didn’t want Miss Grisham to see.”
    “We have secrets because we’re forced to.”
    “I don’t know what you are talking about.” Laura tossed her head. “I don’t have secrets. Not the sort you mean. And I don’t want to talk about it. Go away.”
    Leon continued to walk beside her, his step in time with hers. “You live in that house on the hill, don’t you?” he asked after a while.
    Laura glared at him. “There are lots of houses on lots of hills.”
    “Not like yours.”
    Those words again.
Not like yours.
Laura felt something snap inside her. Everything was always not like hers. Her house was different. Her parents were different. Their friends were different. No one else at school was writing a book about dragons, and no one else would have torn up part of it if they had been. They wouldn’t have cared. And now Leon Murphy, who didn’t talk to anyone, was talking to her. She must be terribly, terribly different.
    Tears welled in her eyes. “Go away,” she shouted. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Just leave me alone.”
    “OK.” Leon thrust his hands into his pockets and strode off. Laura could see him ahead of her, growing smaller, his large shorts flapping as he walked. She watched him until he turned in to Mrs. Murphy’s garden and disappeared around the side of the house.
    How dare he