The Finishing Touches Page 37
I looked up, suddenly realizing.
“And I’ve got some first-hand experience of the old Phillimore Academy. As a graduate.”
She smiled, nervously but hopefully—a smile I recognized as very like my own.
Something began to burn and flutter in my chest at the same time, pressing out and up into my throat until I didn’t trust my voice to speak. Instead, I turned my necklace slowly round, so the little bee was visible.
“I’m Rosalind,” she said, holding out her hand again as her voice cracked. “Rosalind Howard. I’ve come for the job.”
I slipped my hand into hers, but this time I didn’t shake. I just held it.
