The Isadora Interviews (The Network Series #1.5)(11)

Isadora’s lip turned up a little at the corner, but she hid it by coughing into her fist.

“And you don’t want to work alone.”

“No!”

The answer came out far louder and more vehemently than she meant it to. Camille didn’t realize that she’d shot forward in her seat until it was too late and sat back with a sheepish look.

“I’d just die if I were locked in a room by myself,” she finished in a calmer tone.

The feather had stopped completely, and now Isadora just sat staring at her. Under such an intense gaze, Camille waited to feel Isadora rooting through her brain, looking for information as if she’d lost something there.

“Any other education?” Isadora finally asked. “Besides homeschooling, I mean.”

Camille faltered.

“Well, ah, Bettina has taught me reading, spelling, writing. A little bit of divination . . .” Camille trailed off.

Bettina doesn’t have the patience to teach me, she almost said but stopped herself. The truth was that Bettina often became too exasperated to work with Camille, and left her to study by herself. In the end, distracted by the quiet, Camille would mostly daydream about exploring Chatham castle, sewing a new dress that wasn’t linen or gray, or what it would be like to wear lacy gloves to tea.

“Is that all?”

“N-no. I’ve learned more,” Camille said, eager to fill the silence but fearful that she’d somehow disappoint Isadora’s expectations. Isadora gave an encouraging nod, acting as if she had all the time in the world.

Maybe she doesn’t mind if I talk, Camille thought, the tension in her shoulders easing a little. Bettina never wants me to talk.

“Bettina is trying to teach me algebra,” she admitted with a sheepish grin. “I’m terrible at it. Then she gets frustrated and tells me to figure it out and locks herself in her room for the rest of the day.”

Isadora didn’t seem surprised.

“What do you do then?”

“I try and figure out the algebra,” she said. “Really, I do! One day I worked on it for a full thirty minutes without day dreaming once. But I don’t really understand math. Sometimes Leda helps me, but she’s really busy studying too.”

Isadora hummed something.

“Can you do transformations?”

“Not really, but I’d like to!” Camille leaned forward in her seat, a flush of excitement on her face. “Leda once transformed a white flower into a pink one. She doesn’t really know how she did it, but it was so lovely! I’d love to change ugly gray rocks into a pretty rosebush, or something like that. Gardens are my favorite.”

“Have you learned any of the ancient languages?”

“No.” Camille shrugged. “I don’t see the point. We only speak the common language in Hansham and most of the Central Network.”

“How about divination?”

“Not really.” Camille’s eyes widened. “But that might be a fun thing to learn as well! Maybe it would help me make better decisions. Bettina says I’m terrible at making logical decisions.”

“Logic doesn’t always lead us down the right path,” Isadora said, folding her veiny hands on her lap. “Tell me about Miss Kathy’s. Mr. Hymas told me that you work in the bakery. Have you worked there for long?”

“Oh, yes!” Camille beamed. “I love working at Miss Kathy’s bakery. I started a couple of years ago, at least. I had just moved here and was having a terrible time. I missed my parents so much. Miss Kathy knocked right on our door and said she needed help with deliveries. I wanted to get out of my aunts’ stuffy house, and Bettina consented immediately.”

Isadora’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. She paused for a moment with a thoughtful expression and then straightened up in her chair. The feather stopped writing.

“You seem to really love the bakery,” she observed.

Camille put her hands to her flushed cheeks, eyes alight. “Oh yes! Miss Kathy named me her official sampler, you know. She lets me try a little taste of just about every batch of whatever she makes, but she won’t let me work in the back yet. Says I’m not ready.”

Isadora smiled and the feather laid down on top of the diary, which closed over it. Camille didn’t notice.

“Why not?”

Camille let out another hefty sigh that tossed her bangs from her face. “I burned some cookies. Actually, I burned seven batches of cookies. But it was an accident!” she insisted. “I didn’t know the oven got so hot!”

Isadora opened her mouth to speak but didn’t have the chance.

“But she did say that I have a good sense of taste,” Camille rushed to explain, lest Isadora think her incompetent. “Plus, I have a regular delivery route to some of the older people who live out in cottages and can’t walk in every week. Everyone comes to the bakery. I think it’s because of all the candy at the front. Most of the children like the sour candy best, but I like the lollipops. I know everyone in Hansham, you know.”

Isadora smiled in an offhand way. “Yes, well, I think I’ve heard enough to make my decision,” she announced.

Camille’s stomach lurched, pulling her down from her happy world at the bakery and back to reality. “O-oh, yes,” she stuttered, folding her suddenly cold hands in her lap. “Okay.”