Free The Cavendish Home for Boys and Girls by Claire Legrand Page B

skins.
    3  Roaches with ten legs that stung you.
    4  Missing children.
    Ah.
    Victoria started with the latest issue and searched for missing children. She found a lot of things, sadly, because sometimes the Bulletin ran stories from other, bigger newspapers. But she didn’t see anything about Lawrence, Jacqueline Hennessey, or Donovan O’Flaherty. And she found nothing about strange roaches or perfect smiles, except for an advertisement for the Prewitts’ dental practice, which made her shiver and frown and hunch over the keyboard with renewed determination.
    She also searched for the Cavendish Home for Boys and Girls, and Mrs. Cavendish herself.
    “What’s her first name?” Victoria wondered aloud, but she didn’t know. The more she thought about it, the moreshe realized how very little she knew about the Cavendish Home. It had been there forever, and yet Victoria couldn’t recall anyone in town ever talking about it, which seemed stranger and stranger the more she thought about it. Orphans were children without parents, and wouldn’t people talk about Belleville parents dying and their children being sent to the Home? Wouldn’t people be shocked and upset, and perhaps visit the children with flowers and candy and condolences? And did these orphans all come from Belleville, or did Mrs. Cavendish bring in children from Grandville and Uptown and the poor towns in between?
    Victoria shook her head. She did not know the answers to these questions. She had never even thought to wonder these questions before. And isn’t that odd, Victoria? she asked herself. Isn’t it odd that you wouldn’t wonder?
    What Victoria did know, however, was that when she had stood in Mrs. Cavendish’s kitchen, in the warmth of the cooking stew, with the orphans laughing just down the hall, she’d forgotten why she went there in the first place. It was almost like a spell from the fairy stories Victoria had always thought so silly. In that kitchen, Mrs. Cavendish was all Victoria knew—till she found the paper plane that held the message “Help us.”
    The Bulletin didn’t include many things about the Home,other than a few blurbs about festivals, tours, and generous donations from Mrs. Cavendish to the library, the Academy, and the hospital.
    Victoria frowned. “Well, that’s nice of her,” she said. She remembered Mrs. Cavendish’s pretty face, clean dress, and red lips. The memory made her smile before she could stop herself, only the smile didn’t seem like her own. It felt like someone had hands on her face, forcing her lips gently back.
    She searched for a long time and found nothing helpful, even years and years back. Then she went back even farther. Missing children bulletins. Letters to the editor about such-and-such. Advertisements: THE CAVENDISH HOME FOR BOYS AND GIRLS IS HOSTING A FIELD DAY FOR ALL AREA CHILDREN THIS SATURDAY, APRIL 14. BEETLE-B-GONE EXTERMINATION OFFERS FREE CONSULTATIONS .
    None of this meant anything. They were random pieces of many different puzzles.
    In these old papers, Victoria saw the construction of the Academy, her street, and the streets around it.
    The Bulletin ’s oldest issues were on microfilm. Victoria found the right cabinet on the wall. She thumbed through the tiny pockets of film, took out the first Bulletin one, put her hand on one of the microfilm readers to turn it on—
    Behind her, the door opened.
    The white light of the library illuminated a dark figure.
    Victoria reached for her umbrella but couldn’t find it. She had left it beside the computer.
    “What do you want?” she said, trying to sound brave.
    The door shut. The figure melted into the room’s darkness.
    “Miss Wright?” said a voice.
    “Professor Alban?” said Victoria. She squinted and saw the frazzled hair. In the computer’s glow, his glasses blinked white.
    “Are you—” said Professor Alban. He opened the door a bit, peered outside, shut it, and wedged a chair beneath the doorknob. “Why are you