Page 20 of Waysider
Cass ran.
Like every other building she’d seen here, the chapel was beautiful.
Cass arrived in a desperate rush of sweat-drenched clothes and hard gasps. Chest heaving, she approached the building’s entrance and stared upward. The walls were made of dark gray stone, the narrow windows arched. Shrubs grew all around its base, and huge potted plants stood on either side of the stairs. The entrance was a pair of wooden doors. Unlike the front gates, there was an inscription over this doorway, and Cass read it as she ascended the steps.
What’s done cannot be undone.
How cheery, Cass thought. She reached the top and pulled one of the heavy doors open. She expected it to creak, but the hinges hardly made a whisper. Cass slipped inside and lifted her gaze, already relaxing at the familiar scent, which was always the same, somehow, in every chapel she visited.
It was something Cass had been doing since she was in middle school—finding chapels. Most of the time, she preferred to be around people. She didn’t like a majority of them, sure, but she liked the noise. The chaos. The feeling of always doing something, going somewhere.
But there were moments or nights that she needed to press pause. Sit in the quiet. Cass didn’t consider herself religious, by any means. Her family was technically Catholic, but the only days they saw the inside of a church was on Easter and Christmas. So it wasn’t God or forgiveness she sought every time she went to a new chapel. Or broke into them, as she’d had to do on a few occasions.
Thankfully, that wasn’t the case tonight.
The room was longer than it looked from the outside. There were two rows of pews and candles burning everywhere, standing on black stands that looked like they were made of iron. The ceiling was high and vaulted, with a long beam running the length of it.
To Cass’s disappointment, the pews weren’t empty.
A guy sat in one toward the middle. As Cass passed, she gave him a quick, sidelong glance. A textbook rested against his knees, the pages splayed open, light filtering through their thin edges. At Cass’s approach, the guy turned his head. There was a small hearing aid tucked against the shell of his ear. Cass saw his eyes start to move toward her, and she quickly looked ahead. Moments later, she slid into a pew near the front. The wood was hard and smooth from years of use.
In an instant, Cass saw this chapel was different from the others, in spite of its comforting scent. There was no railing, no altar, no podium. There were just more candles. Cass thought of all the other students she’d seen and realized this chapel was for everyone, no matter what background or which part of the world they came from.
Cal would’ve liked it here.
Thinking of her brother darkened her mood again. Cass hadn’t brought a book or any paper, so she concentrated on emptying her mind. She fixed her gaze on one of the candles closest to her and watched that spot of brightness flicker and quiver. Every so often, the silence was broken by the soft rustle of a turning page. Minutes passed. Cass and the stranger didn’t say a word to each other, yet somehow, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Cass hugged her knees against her and reveled in the knowledge that, soon, she wouldn’t be so helpless against the revenants.
Eventually she heard the stranger close his book and stand. Cass couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder. He moved with a grace that made her think of a panther or a wolf. Fur dark as night. Quiet, deadly strength. The duster jacket he wore only added to the effect—it should’ve looked ridiculous, but on him, Cass had to admit it worked. He had thick, black hair that looked like he’d been raking it back with his fingers. It curled against his neck and around his ears. There was almost a blue-black quality to the strands as they caught the light.
The stranger must’ve felt her gaze, because as he reached the end of the pew, he paused. He turned slowly, and Cass got a look at his face. He had a strong jaw, the lines accentuated by a five o’clock shadow. He also had an aristocratic nose and full, solemn lips. Their eyes caught for a second, then two. He finally nodded, and Cass nodded back. Then Duster Guy walked down the center aisle and she faced the front again. The sound of the door closing echoed through the stillness. One of the candles sputtered, but the small flame hung on, then righted itself. It was late. Cass knew she should probably go, too, but she didn’t move. What if she went back to her room and Cal was still gone? Or worse, what if Michael was still there?
It was late by the time she left. Cass crossed campus again, which was now completely empty, and found House Wayside without difficulty. But then she tried the knob and discovered it was locked. Right, the curfew. Remembering the key, Cass dug through her pockets. She searched them again and confirmed they were empty. She must’ve dropped the key in the chapel. “Shit,” Cass muttered.
But this was nothing she hadn’t dealt with before.
She swung away from the door and went around the side of the house. Most of the windows were darkened, which made sense, considering there were more rooms than tenants in House Wayside. Cass tried every one and found them locked. Then she spotted a square of light on the ground, pouring through one of the windows near the back of the house. Cass hurried toward it.
It was Finch’s room. Cass could tell even before she spotted the girl herself, sitting at a desk. It was the pink that gave it away. Pink rug, pink pillows, pink bedspread. There was a papasan chair in the left corner, also pink. The desk Finch worked at was in the other. A cork board hung over her. Cass had one like it in her old dorm, but that was where the similarities ended—instead of ticket stubs, bar tabs, party or Greek life invitations, there were only Post-it Notes. The handwriting on them was neat and feminine. On the other wall, there was a poster of Sean Penn.
Cass reached up and tapped the glass. Finch’s head jerked to the side, and when she saw Cass, her eyes widened. She rushed over to the window and pushed it open.
“Lost my key,” Cass said before Finch could speak, reaching over the windowsill to haul herself through. She rolled and got to her feet in the expert movement of someone who’d snuck through many windows.
Finch watched her with a strange expression. She wore a head brace and the frilliest, pinkest nightgown Cass had ever seen. Finch must’ve showered recently, because her long hair was damp and a floral scent clung to the air.
“Where were you?” Finch asked, speaking with a lisp because of her brace.
Out, Cass started to say. It was her usual response whenever her mom, or her dad, or her brother asked her where she’d been. But then she thought of how she felt every time Cal dodged her own questions.
“Chapel,” Cass answered honestly, striding toward the door.
Understanding filled Finch’s expression. “It was hard for me, too. When I first got here, I felt like I was in another world, and all I wanted was to be back home with my family and my old friends. It gets better, though. You get used to all the strangeness. After a while, it even starts to feel normal.”
Cass had started reaching for the doorknob, but Finch’s response made her pause. Cass faced the other girl again, and this time, she really looked at her. She glanced around the room again, noting how it looked like it had been lived in for a long time. She noted smaller details, too. The neat cork board that only held homework assignments. The utter lack of pictures, other than one framed next to her bed, which she guessed was Finch’s family. There were also brightly-colored sticky notes on the dresser mirror. Today might be the day! one read. Another said, Keep your chin up.
Just as Cass opened her mouth to answer Finch, screaming tore through the stillness.
Both girls startled. Cass recovered first, and she ran for the door and yanked it open. She flew into the hall and stopped short at the sight of so many people gathered. There was a boy on the floor, wearing nothing but a towel, and another boy—he was so built it didn’t seem accurate to call him that—extending a hand toward him. Two girls stood beside them. Cass recognized Tammy, so that meant the other one must’ve been Candice. She was pretty, with carrot-bright hair and a smattering of freckles over her creamy nose.
