Was Steven right? Would any of these things

matter if I could play exceedingly well? How were

people judged in the world after all?

Madame Senetsky's dining room help were

efficient to perfection, moving in and out, between us

and over us without so much as creating enough of a

breeze to move a single strand of anyone's hair. And

they were so quiet, too. It was as though they were

ghosts and not real people. I saw how Madame

Senetsky's eyes moved from one to the other when

they served, cleared away a dish, or replenished

something. It was almost as if she was waiting for

something to drip, something to bump so she could

pounce.

Finally, just before dessert was served, she

turned her attention to us.

"Well, gentlemen, what do you think of my

new stable of horses?" she asked.

All of our teachers looked at us as if they were

actually going to make life-changing decisions that

very moment and tell one or more of us to leave the table, go upstairs, pack, and be gone. I found I was

actually holding my breath.

"I think you have a charming group, Madame

Senetsky," Brock Marlowe began. "Frankly, I can't

wait to begin working with them."

There was a silence we all expected to be filled

by one of the other instructors, but all we saw were

some nods and then eyes turned to Madame Senetsky. "Charm is something to be nurtured," she

began. "but it is in no way a substitute for hard,

dedicated work. These gentlemen will quickly

Tags: V.C. Andrews Shooting Stars Horror
Source: readsnovelonline.net