Read In Every Heartbeat for Free Online

released a little snort. “Are you here for entertainment or education?”
    Alice-Marie lifted her head. “What did you say?”
    “Nothing. Just that I hope you enjoy all the . . . activities.”
    “Oh, I intend to. Mother says the most interesting women are those who are well-rounded, so I need lots of experiences to . . . well . . . round me out!”
    A high-pitched giggle carried across the room and pierced Libby’s ears. She pulled the covers over her head. “Good night, Alice-Marie.”
    “Oh? Are you ready to sleep?” She sounded more puzzled than miffed. “All right, then. Do you want me to turn out the light?”
    “Unless you plan to sleep with it on.”
    The covers must have muffled her sarcastic words because Alice-Marie said, “What was that?”
    Libby flapped the covers down and spoke loudly. “Yes, please turn it off.”
    “Very well. Good night, Elisabet. Sleep well. Mother says a proper night’s sleep is very important.”
    Libby buried her face once more. Mother says . . . Envy nearly turned Libby’s chest inside out. How she wished she could tell someone, “Mother says . . .” But she didn’t have a mother. Not even an adopted mother. She could say, “Mrs. Rowley says . . .” or “Maelle says . . .” But then people would ask, “Who’s Mrs. Rowley? Who’s Maelle?” No one ever had to ask, “Who’s Mother?”
    Libby rolled to her side and squeezed her eyes tight. She was eighteen already—a woman herself. And she was going to be a well-known journalist. Someday, people on the street would say to one another, “Did you read today’s Gazette ? Elisabet Conley says . . .” Then they’d quote directly from her articles. Alice-Marie’s mother was only known to Alice-Marie; Libby would be known to thousands. And when that day came, it wouldn’t matter one bit that she was an orphan.
    When Libby awakened the next morning, she discovered Alice-Marie had already dressed and gone. She squinted at the round windup clock on her roommate’s bureau and released a squawk of surprise. Almost eight-thirty! Breakfast would end in another thirty minutes. After she’d skipped supper last night, her stomach pinched painfully. She planned to visit the various newspaper offices in town today to seek employment; she needed food to keep up her strength.
    She jumped out of bed, slipped into the brown worsted skirt and weskit she’d worn yesterday, and tied her uncombed hair into a ponytail at the base of her skull with an unpretentious piece of brown ribbon. Her fingers trembling, she groped in the bottom of the dark wardrobe and located the black leather satchel Maelle and Jackson had given her to keep her writings organized. For a moment she held the satchel on her open palms, like a servant bearing a crown on a pillow, and held her breath. Within the leather case rested her hope for the future.
    Please, oh please, let them be good enough!
    She usually allowed Petey to do the praying, but this plea formed in the deepest parts of her being.
    Hugging the satchel to her heart, she flung the door open and started to charge into the hallway. She barely remembered to look first. To her relief, the hall was empty. She ran to the staircase and clattered downstairs, her shoes making a terrible racket.
    Her feet never slowed as she dashed across the grassy courtyard. Expertly she dodged other students, ignoring their laughs or warnings to be careful, and careened into the dining hall, where she skidded to a stop just inside the door. There she paused to straighten her skirts and smooth the stray wisps of hair around her face before stepping into the room with a decorum that would have made Isabelle Rowley proud.
    Most of the tables were empty; only a few students still sat in small groups to finish eating or to chat. She scanned the room for Petey or Bennett but didn’t find them. Disappointed, she picked up a tray. With her satchel tucked under her elbow for safekeeping, she crossed to a long wooden table