be taken away from us altogether.”
In spite of this disturbing conversation, the evening’s exercise and the warm bath had relaxed Sophie, and she lay in bed in a pleasant haze, looking forward to double-period chemistry the next morning. She was asleep before she knew it, a rare thing this far into the summer term, when dusk fell long after even the oldest girls’ bedtime.
A few hours later, though, she found herself standing spread-eagled, back against the bedroom door, her throat raw from the shout she’d just unleashed.
A light went on by one of the beds. Priscilla’s sleepy face turned toward her.
“What on earth just happened?” she asked Sophie.
By now Jean and Nan were both sitting up.
“Yes, what’s the matter, Sophie?” said Nan.
“I don’t know,” Sophie said, her voice rough. She cleared her throat and cast her mind back. She couldn’t remember a thing. Something moved in the shadows, and Sophie thought her heart might actually explode with terror.
“Sophie screamed,” said Jean. “That was what woke us, I think.”
Sophie spread her hand flat across her neck and collarbone and took another deep breath. Her hands were freezing, the skin of her chest hot and feverish, and she could feel her heart pumping at twice the usual speed.
“You must have had a nightmare,” Nan said. “What was it, Sophie? My brother Sam always says that when you have a bad dream, the best thing to do is talk about it.”
“But I can’t remember ,” Sophie said, deeply shaken. “I might have been in a factory. And someone was having an argument.”
“What kind of a factory? Who was there? What were they arguing about? What were you doing there?”
But Sophie could answer none of Nan’s questions.
“Go back to bed!” Priscilla finally said. “We’re perfectly safe here. A bad dream isn’t going to kill you, horrible though it may be.”
In bed again, Sophie’s feet were freezing cold and she folded her left foot behind her right knee to warm it up, thenswitched sides to warm the other foot. It took longer for her heart to stop hammering in her rib cage. If this was perfectly safe , what must grave danger feel like?
In the morning Sophie hardly remembered the interruption to the night’s sleep, though she felt irritable and poorly rested. The others didn’t let her off lightly, though. They pestered her right up until they got to chemistry and discovered, not Mr. Petersen, but the biology mistress, Miss Hopkins.
“Mr. Petersen can’t be with you today,” the teacher told the class. “You may use this time to catch up on work for your other classes, and lessons will resume on Monday.”
The sound of scratching pens and the rustle of pages soon filled the classroom. Sophie couldn’t concentrate, which was most alarming. She was used to being able to work even under the most adverse conditions. It was a great disappointment not to see Mr. Petersen, of course, but there was no reason missing him should make her so uneasy.
At twenty-five past nine, a first-form girl crept into the room to deliver a note to Miss Hopkins.
“Girls,” said the biology mistress, speaking abruptly as she ran her eyes over the note, “I must leave you. You may speak with one another while I am away, so long as you moderate your voices. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes; Nan, I authorize you in the meantime to discipline anygirl who creates a disturbance.”
After she left, the girls looked at each other. Sophie tried to get on with her English essay. Many of the others took out the bundles of knitting that had been all the rage that term and began to click away with their needles.
The low murmur of conversation couldn’t cover up the noise of Priscilla poking Jean in the side and snickering.
“Sophie,” Priscilla called out softly.
Sophie looked around.
“Where do you think Mr. Petersen’s gone?” Priscilla said.
Sophie decided to ignore her and turned back to her work.
“If Miss Hopkins comes
In spite of this disturbing conversation, the evening’s exercise and the warm bath had relaxed Sophie, and she lay in bed in a pleasant haze, looking forward to double-period chemistry the next morning. She was asleep before she knew it, a rare thing this far into the summer term, when dusk fell long after even the oldest girls’ bedtime.
A few hours later, though, she found herself standing spread-eagled, back against the bedroom door, her throat raw from the shout she’d just unleashed.
A light went on by one of the beds. Priscilla’s sleepy face turned toward her.
“What on earth just happened?” she asked Sophie.
By now Jean and Nan were both sitting up.
“Yes, what’s the matter, Sophie?” said Nan.
“I don’t know,” Sophie said, her voice rough. She cleared her throat and cast her mind back. She couldn’t remember a thing. Something moved in the shadows, and Sophie thought her heart might actually explode with terror.
“Sophie screamed,” said Jean. “That was what woke us, I think.”
Sophie spread her hand flat across her neck and collarbone and took another deep breath. Her hands were freezing, the skin of her chest hot and feverish, and she could feel her heart pumping at twice the usual speed.
“You must have had a nightmare,” Nan said. “What was it, Sophie? My brother Sam always says that when you have a bad dream, the best thing to do is talk about it.”
“But I can’t remember ,” Sophie said, deeply shaken. “I might have been in a factory. And someone was having an argument.”
“What kind of a factory? Who was there? What were they arguing about? What were you doing there?”
But Sophie could answer none of Nan’s questions.
“Go back to bed!” Priscilla finally said. “We’re perfectly safe here. A bad dream isn’t going to kill you, horrible though it may be.”
In bed again, Sophie’s feet were freezing cold and she folded her left foot behind her right knee to warm it up, thenswitched sides to warm the other foot. It took longer for her heart to stop hammering in her rib cage. If this was perfectly safe , what must grave danger feel like?
In the morning Sophie hardly remembered the interruption to the night’s sleep, though she felt irritable and poorly rested. The others didn’t let her off lightly, though. They pestered her right up until they got to chemistry and discovered, not Mr. Petersen, but the biology mistress, Miss Hopkins.
“Mr. Petersen can’t be with you today,” the teacher told the class. “You may use this time to catch up on work for your other classes, and lessons will resume on Monday.”
The sound of scratching pens and the rustle of pages soon filled the classroom. Sophie couldn’t concentrate, which was most alarming. She was used to being able to work even under the most adverse conditions. It was a great disappointment not to see Mr. Petersen, of course, but there was no reason missing him should make her so uneasy.
At twenty-five past nine, a first-form girl crept into the room to deliver a note to Miss Hopkins.
“Girls,” said the biology mistress, speaking abruptly as she ran her eyes over the note, “I must leave you. You may speak with one another while I am away, so long as you moderate your voices. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes; Nan, I authorize you in the meantime to discipline anygirl who creates a disturbance.”
After she left, the girls looked at each other. Sophie tried to get on with her English essay. Many of the others took out the bundles of knitting that had been all the rage that term and began to click away with their needles.
The low murmur of conversation couldn’t cover up the noise of Priscilla poking Jean in the side and snickering.
“Sophie,” Priscilla called out softly.
Sophie looked around.
“Where do you think Mr. Petersen’s gone?” Priscilla said.
Sophie decided to ignore her and turned back to her work.
“If Miss Hopkins comes
Similar Books
