Dewhurst. She was not seated behind her impressive,
large desk, but restlessly pacing the floor. "Really, Dr.
Sheffield, nothing like this has ever happened before.
Never have we lost a girl. We make a room check
every night to see the girls are tucked in bed with
lights out, and Carrie was in her bed. I myself looked
in on her, wanting to comfort her if she'd let me, but
she refused to look at me or to speak. Of course it all
began with that fight in your ward's room and the
demerits that resulted in their loss of their weekend
liberty. Every member of the faculty has helped me
search and we've questioned our girls who profess to
know nothing about it--which I imagine they do--but
if they won't talk, I don't know what to do next." "Why didn't you notify me when you first found
her missing?" Paul asked. I spoke up then and asked to
be taken to Carrie's room. Miss Dewhurst turned
eagerly to me, anxious to escape the doctor's wrath. As
we three followed her up the stairs she spilled forth lengthy excuses so we'd understand how difficult it was to handle so many mischievous girls. When we finally entered Carrie's room several students trailed behind us, whispering back and forth about how much Chris and I looked like Carrie, only we weren't "so
freakishly small."
Chris turned to scowl at them. "No wonder she
hates it here if you can say things like that!"
"We'll find her," assured Chris. "If we have to
stay all week and torture each little witch here we'll
make them tell us where she is."
"Young man," shot out Miss Dewhurst,
"nobody tortures my girls but me!"
I knew Carrie better than anyone and around the
grooves of her brain I ambled. Now, if I were Carrie's
age, would I try to escape a school that had unjustly
kept me from going home? Yes! I would do exactly