Down a Dark Hall by Lois Duncan

Kit was too keyed up to sleep, and she could tell by the sound of her breathing that Sandy was
     awake also, lying still and tense in the bed beside her. Only when the first flush of dawn lightened the sky beyond the window
     did she finally doze off, and when she again opened her eyes she found that it was well past eight o’clock and Sandy was no
     longer in the room. She got up and dressed and went down to the dining room to breakfast. Ruth and Lynda were there, finishing
     plates of eggs and toast.
    “Sandy was here a few minutes ago,” Ruth answered Kit’s unspoken question. “She said she wasn’t hungry, she just wanted some
     coffee, and that she had an early class scheduled with Professor Farley. I guess he’s giving her some help in algebra.”
    “How did she look?” Kit asked.
    “Awful,” Lynda told her. “I thought maybe she was coming down with something. There were bags under her eyes and she looked
     exhausted. Come to think of it, you don’t look so great yourself.” She regarded Kit quizzically. “Is there some sort of flu
     making the rounds at Blackwood?”
    “Not that I know of,” Kit said. “We were both up most of the night. Sandy had a dream and woke up screaming, and I was in
     with her for a while, and then she came back to my room. Didn’t you hear us? Between her yelling and my banging on the door,
     we could have woken the dead.”
    Despite herself, she gave a little shiver at her choice of words.
    “I didn’t hear a thing,” Lynda said. “Did you, Ruth?”
    “I might have,” the dark-haired girl said. “I had a restless night, so maybe I kind of half-consciously woke up. I’ve been
     doing a lot of dreaming myself lately.”
    “You have?” Kit froze at the statement. “What sort of dreams?”
    “I don’t know,” Ruth said with a shrug. “I don’t remember them when I wake up. I just have this feeling in the morning that
     I’ve been at it all night.”
    “I know what you mean,” Lynda said. “When that alarm goes off, sometimes I can hardly make myself get up.”
    “Well, at least let’s get up from the table .” Ruth consulted her watch. “We’ve got literature with Madame in just a couple of minutes. What’s on your schedule this morning,
     Kit?”
    “Music,” Kit told her.
    “Jules all to yourself? Lucky you!” Lynda giggled and tossed her blond curls. “If I’d known there would be a teacher like
     him, I’d have signed up for piano lessons too. As it is, I can’t even get him to look at me.”
    “He does seem to be the silent type,” Ruth agreed. “I get the impression he’s dedicated to his work. Not that I’m that interested.”
     “Well, I am,” Lynda said. “After all, he’s probably the only man we’re going to see between now and Christmas vacation. That
     is, unless you count Professor Farley.”
    The door to the kitchen opened and Natalie came in with a pot of coffee. She nodded a curt good morning, but her face softened
     a little when she saw Kit.
    “Morning, miss,” she said. “Can I fix you some breakfast?”
    “No thanks, Natalie,” Kit said. “I’m not hungry this morning.”
    Natalie set the coffeepot on the table.
    “You should eat something,” she said. “You’re getting skinny.”
    The aroma of the coffee rose in a cloud, and Kit, who normally found the odor enticing, felt her stomach lurch with a wave
     of nausea.
    “There’s no time for it now,” she said. “I’m running late. I’ll make up for it at lunchtime.” With a nod of farewell to the
     girls, she left the room.
      
    Jules Duret was waiting for her in the music room. He was wearing a pale blue shirt, open at the throat, and a pair of dark
     fitted jeans. He was seated in a chair by the window, and a musical score lay open on his lap, but he did not seem to be reading
     it. He had the air of someone who had been waiting for a long time.
    He glanced up as Kit came in, his face solemn.
    “You’re late,” he said by way of greeting.