Page 21 of Waysider
“…thought it might be a revenant,” the kid on the floor was saying, his voice breaking. He had the boniest shoulders Cass had ever seen, and she could practically count his ribs. His dark skin was riddled with scars. Distantly, Cass wondered if they had something to do with his NDE. But most of her focus was on the fact that a revenant might be in this house.
She wasn’t the only one who didn’t like the idea. Candice was shifting from foot to foot, and Tammy was frowning. “We need to tell Crane, right?” Cass ventured.
“It wasn’t a revenant, though,” the boy said quickly, clutching at his towel as he stood. “I just thought it was.”
Cass darted a glance toward the bathroom door, worried something would come out of the steam. “What was it?”
The boy suddenly became preoccupied. He looked down and said something under his breath, fussing with the knot in his towel. Cass couldn’t hear him, but the tall guy did.
“Dude, are you serious? You woke us up because of a spider?” he mumbled, rubbing his eye.
“I can see your penis,” Tammy said flatly.
The kid looked down again. He made a small, involuntary sound at the same moment Finch appeared. She must’ve taken her head brace off, because there was no sign of it. The boy’s eyes darted toward her, and dismay filled his young face. He covered himself frantically.
“Forget it,” he blurted. “We should all go back to—”
He cut off, making another panicked grab at his towel, which had loosened once more. Another sound left him, this one so high-pitched that it made Cass think of a whistle. As she turned away, and everyone else dispersed, she touched her cheek. Her fingers brushed over a slight indent in her skin, small crescent moons she hadn’t felt in a long time.
For the first time since Cal died, she was smiling.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Cal didn’t know where he was going, only that he needed to get away. Far, far away, so his sister couldn’t see his face or sense the pain eating him up inside.
Feeling Cass’s eyes on him, Cal crossed the yard in a few long-legged strides. He kept his hands in his pockets to hide how they’d fisted, but once he was out of sight, he yanked them out and exhaled, slowly. He was on the other side of some hedges and trees, standing in the shadows. It didn’t feel like enough cover, though—not at a school full of ghost hunters.
Feeling a trickle of unease in his veins, Cal put his hands back in his pockets and kept moving, weaving in and out of the light spilling over the rooftops. He tried not to look at anyone or draw attention to himself as he started in the direction of the front gate.
It wasn’t half bad, Cass’s new school, Cal thought. No school was better than NYU, of course, and this place was a bit kooky for his tastes, but it was obvious they had funding. The buildings were all matching sandstone, with arched doorways and stone paths. The main courtyard had an enormous fountain, with frothy columns of water reaching for the darkening sky. Massive palm trees swayed in a fragrant breeze.
But right now, Cal wanted nothing to do with it.
He finally reached the gravel path that led to the road. Only then, with all those Else & Bellows students behind him, did Cal let himself run the way he’d been wanting to. He ran like it was Friday night and all those lights were shining down on him. Cheers in his ears, grass tearing up beneath his cleats. Within moments, Cal passed beneath the iron archway covered in words he couldn’t read. Latin, he’d thought when he first saw it.
Lungs heaving, Cal rounded the corner and spotted a small, brightly-lit diner at the end of the block. A neon sign declared they were open. In the dying light, there was something comforting about it, like someone inviting you in from the cold. There also wasn’t much else around—just big, fancy houses. Once Cal was close enough to make out the people through the diner windows, he slowed. Usually he avoided places like this, partly for his sake, but mostly for Cass’s. Tonight he’d make an exception.
Even now, months after he’d died, Cal reached for the doorknob automatically. As always, his hand passed right through it. Cal’s fingers curled into a fist. His jaw worked as he ducked his head, fighting for control. He never used to experience rage like this. It felt like there was a dark force rising inside him, filling every corner of his head so that he couldn’t think about anything else. In a desperate attempt to escape it, Cal looked up and forced himself to walk through the door. There was a rushing sound, like he was walking beneath a waterfall, and then… he was inside.
The diner was quieter than he’d expected. A young couple sat at the counter, and a bright-haired guy sat in a booth near the wall of windows. Cal slid into one of the empty booths on the other side. He wished he could take his jacket off, but he never did—he was worried it would disappear forever if he left it off too long. Cal rested his weight on the plastic seat. It didn’t make sense, he thought for the millionth time. He could sit on things, even lean against them, but he couldn’t open anything? Cal didn’t know the rules, goddamn it, and that frustrated him even more than the fact he couldn’t touch a doorknob.
His foul mood hadn’t started because of that, though.
It was this place, Cal thought, wishing he could cup his hands around a warm cup of coffee. It was being on a college campus again. Everywhere he looked was a blatant reminder of what he’d lost. Cal let out a breath and raised his head just as a waitress walked by. He cast a longing glance at one of the mugs she was carrying.
“I wouldn’t.”
Cal glanced instinctively toward whoever had spoken. A young guy was sitting two booths down, and it looked like he was gazing right at him. Cal peered over his shoulder to see who the guy was talking to… but there was no one else. Cal faced forward again, and even though he didn’t have a heart anymore, he swore he could feel it hammering in his chest.
“What?” Cal said finally.
“I wouldn’t order the coffee here.” The stranger took a sip from his own cup and grimaced.
Cal fought to sound casual. “Thanks for the tip.”
The other guy nodded. His light eyes lowered, taking note of what Cal wore. “Nice jacket,” he remarked. “You a student there? NYU?”
“I was. What about you?” Cal added, because that was the normal thing to ask. He wasn’t a moron; he knew this kid was probably from Else & Bellows. The guy didn’t have any textbooks, but there was a gold pin attached to his sleeve. The design looked like a butterfly. Cal had seen it on other students while he’d been following Cass and Crane across campus.
