Harry escaped
while the girls were still filing out. I waited until everyone was gone before I
came downstairs. Pop went back to the archives with Dr. Butterfield, and Mum walked
off with a knot of girls with specific questions about resources and searching.
There was
nothing to pick up and move after the Q&A, not like other talks where Mum and
Pop had books or visual aids. I wandered around the room, looking at the stained
glass, the chimneys on the lanterns with all the fancy brasswork and colored glass,
the inlay on the ends of the benches. There was a lot of history in this little
room of ten rows with two five-seater benches in each row.
"Thought
so," a familiar, whiny voice said, punctuated with a snort.
I looked at
the door. There was Sylvia Grandstone, arms crossed, head tilted to display her
golden curls. I wondered who she was trying to impress. Ninety-five percent of the
staff were women, and this was a girls-only school. That was followed by a sense
of "whew!" Her entrance stopped me just in time, before I acted on an
idea of floating up to look at some writing in the stained glass panel at the front
of the chapel. While I didn't really care what Sylvia Grandstone thought of me,
I wasn't stupid enough to risk her making a fuss that the wrong people might listen
to.
I always had
to keep in mind the rules Kurt and Felicity and I had made up to protect our talents
or powers or whatever let us do what we did. Hide what we did, hide what we were,
hide from trouble. There was no telling when the weirdness factor of Neighborlee
would fail us, and those people who spied on the children’s home would return, notice
us, and make us vanish.
So it was
good that Sylvia didn't catch me kinda-sorta flying.
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