As soon as the first green plaid skirt and black sweater trimmed in gold strolled into the meeting room-slash-former chapel for the first question-and-answer session, I got that sick feeling of impending doom. Harry was sitting with me in a small balcony where we could see and hear everything, but we weren't on display like Mum and Pop. He was busy with a pretty cool hand-held video game Dr. B gave him, and he didn't pay any attention to the students filing into the room and jockeying for one of the sixty seats, until I groaned.
"What?" He scooted over on the bench seat and rested his elbows on the balcony ledge, to look down on the growing audience. He frowned at the girls filing in, then at me. "What?"
"Don't you recognize the uniforms?"
He shook his head and shrugged.
"Remember the Tower of London?"
"I remember that Grandstone… Oh." Harry patted me on the shoulder. "Maybe she's sick today."
"Grandstones are always sick, but it's not the kind that gives us any relief." I slid back on the bench, away from the ledge, even though chances of anyone looking up and seeing us were slim.
"Well, you think she's going to come here to listen to Mum and Pop if it's voluntary? I bet the only thing she reads is a supermarket gossip rag or else something about Hollywood. That's why she got sent over here, because she wanted to go into acting. Right?" He waited for me to nod, then bent his head over his video game again.
Honestly, my little brother was a really smart kid.
Too bad his theory was wrong. Sylvia came strolling in among the last of the first group for question-and-answer. She didn't look happy about being there. Maybe because she strolled in entirely alone. No followers, no admirers, no co-conspirators.