Secret of Light by K. C. Dyer Page B

she said, “although I don’t know why I bother. That rain is going straight sideways.”
    Darrell waved absently as they left, but stayed in her seat, staring into the empty expanse of the dining hall. She slipped Delaney’s old stick from her pocket, tracing her fingers over lines so thin as to be barely visible, and remembered the last look of anger and puzzlement she had seen in Leonardo’s eyes.
    After examining the fine markings on the old stick for an hour, Darrell came to a decision. She spent the afternoon in the school library, poring over books about a certain genius artist of the Renaissance era. Delaney curled contentedly under her chair as Darrell devoured everything she could find on the subject. At dinner, Brodie and Kate related their experience of spending what turned out to be the entire afternoon running up and down the stairs in the lighthouse, and they talked about it in what seemed like endlessly tedious detail. At the end of the meal, Professor Myrtle Tooth stood and announced the schedule for mid-term exams, slated to begin the following week and run until Thanksgiving weekend.
    Everyone groaned and Kate slapped her forehead. “Argh! Tests in math and computers won’t be so bad, but I am so dead in English and history.”
    Brodie chuckled. “Since Professor Tooth usually gives essay questions, I think you may be able to find something to write about the Renaissance, don’t you?”

    Kate’s face brightened. “Right!” She reached over and poked Darrell with a pencil. “That won’t be so bad, will it?”
    Darrell smiled automatically. “Yeah, not so bad.”
    Kate grabbed Darrell’s shoulder and shook it a little. “What are you thinking about? You haven’t eaten anything and I don’t think you’ve said more than a few words in the past hour.”
    Darrell stood and slid her chair back into place at the table. “I’m not very hungry, that’s all. I’ll see you guys later. I’ve got to go study.” She stuck her books under one arm, grabbed her tray with the other hand, and left the table, hardly noticing the puzzled glance exchanged by Kate and Brodie.
    Over the course of the next week, Darrell spent most of her spare time in the library. She even gave up time in the art room to spend reading and making notes about Leonardo’s life. She read how he professed to have no use for women and how his mother had been a servant girl named Katerina with whom he had little or no relationship.
Federica was right. A mother who abandoned him and a father who paid little attention. No wonder he was so rude.
    However, much of what she found in the library proved unsatisfactory, and it irritated her to see how often the authors of history textbooks were wrong about the simplest details of everyday life. She read about the china dishes used in Italian kitchens and scoffed, remembering Kate’s busy morning labouring over sinks full of potteryand earthenware and the endless stream of wooden platters they had to wash after the evening meal. She even laughed a little when reading about the elaborate underwear said to be worn by the nobility of fifteenth-century Florence. But for the most part she felt just one emotion.
    Frustration.
    Frustration that there was so little available about the man who interested her most. She read tedious tomes about the history of the period, and the Medici family who sponsored many wonderful artists of the era, including Leonardo for a time. But she couldn’t find a single source of information written by someone who knew Leonardo. Really knew him — knew how he spent his days, knew his low regard for girls and women, knew his passion for his art and what his deepest thoughts revealed.
    When she ran out of resources in the library, Darrell turned to the Internet. She didn’t want to share her ideas with Kate, so she used the school computers to find out more.