The Case of the Wayward Professor Read Free Page A

knocked unconscious.

Chapter Three

    Holly could hear Petal’s voice from the other end of the girls’ dormitory corridor.
    â€˜I don’t give two hoots how much they love the book. It isn’t enough money and no one else can play me. I don’t care how many Oscars she’s got. I’ll play myself.’
    Holly entered the room. Petal, her thin blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, wearing a T-shirt with the cover of her mum’s latest album on the front, was pacing with her mobile phone held to her ear.
    â€˜Just tell them or I’ll go with the Disney offer and please stop back-chatting me.’ She switched off the phone, exclaimed, ‘Agents!’ and threw herself on to her bed.
    She looked up at Holly. ‘Oh, hi there,’ she said frostily.
    â€˜Hello, Petal,’ replied Holly.
    â€˜Look, I don’t want there to be any bad feelings between us. I understand why you said what you did in class and I forgive you. I know you’re jealous of me.’
    â€˜I’m not jealous of you,’ replied Holly.
    â€˜It’s totally understandable. I’d be jealous of me if I wasn’t me. I called Hermann. He’s my therapist and he explained the whole thing. I actually feel sorry for you now,’ said Petal, forcing her face into an unnatural-looking smile.
    A few days ago a comment like that would have caused Holly to blow up into a raging ball of indignation, but today she bit her lip. Today she could rise above anything Petal threw at her. Today she was getting out.
    â€˜Sure,’ she said calmly. ‘Thanks.’
    â€˜And I’ve looked into it. Bob says the title isn’t supposed to be taken literally. It’s figurative.’
    Bob was the man Petal had employed to write the book for her.
    â€˜And you can thank me,’ Petal continued, ‘I’ve sorted out the pest problem.’
    Holly felt the colour drain from her face. ‘What?’ she said.
    Petal lifted up the duvet to reveal, under the bed, a mousetrap with a dead mouse caught in it, its neck broken in two. ‘I’ve asked the caretaker to come and remove it,’ she said, looking pleased with herself.
    Holly clapped her hand to her mouth to stop herself screaming.
    It was Little Willow.
    Murdered.
    Late that night Holly lay in bed, fully clothed beneath the sheets; her trainers, coat and bag by the door.
    She didn’t want Petal to know how much Little Willow had meant to her, so had said nothing and waited until she left the room before taking out the dead mouse and burying her in the school grounds, with a solemn vow to avenge her death.
    â€˜No, Mummy,’ muttered Petal in her sleep. ‘It has to be real fur.’
    Holly listened as footsteps passed outside the door. The overnight teacher patrolled every hour. Once they had gone, she checked her watch. It had just gone midnight. Time to go. She pulled back the covers, slipped out of bed, crept across the room and picked up her things. She pulled open the door and stepped out.
    Still in her socks, she darted across to a cupboard and climbed in. This was a blind spot. No cameras. She put on her trainers, her black coat over her black jumper and the black balaclava she had fashioned from a bobble hat by cutting out eye holes and pulling it over her face. She slipped her bag over her shoulder and emerged.
    Sticking to the shadows, hoping that no one would be staring too intently at the cameras at this time of night, she made her way to the exit. She pulled out the principal’s wristband and held it up to the door. A red light turned green and the door buzzed open.
    She slid out and dived behind one of the large shrubs that stood on either side of the doorway. The door clicked shut behind her. From what she had learned about the security cabin she knew that a light would be blinking on the console inside, indicating that the door had been opened. One of the guards would be examining all