Page 45 of Waysider
Cass was silent. She watched as Alfred pushed himself up from the bench, every movement shaky, as if he were always a moment away from falling. As if he truly believed he was an old man, with all the aches and brittle bones that came from being alive.
Slowly, he began walking down the sidewalk, away from them, still clutching the flowers in his frail hand. His shoulders were slumped. His wife hadn’t come. She would never come again, Cass thought. But the old man didn’t know that, and he’d show up tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. The street would change, along with everything else, but Alfred Pugh never would.
“They’re not monsters,” Sinister murmured. He was watching Alfred, too. “They’re people.”
Unbidden, Cass thought of the boy on the bridge. She saw a flash of his hands, so pale in the moonlight as they reached for her. She suppressed a shudder and pretended not to feel Sinister’s gaze. “People are the most terrifying of all,” Cass said softly.
Alfred was gone now. Not because he’d reached the end of the street or turned a corner, but because he’d faded away completely. If the street had been hushed before, it now felt like Cass and Sinister were the last two people in the city. Neither of them moved. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, and for a brief moment, they became those strangers in the chapel again. Seeking solitude together, sharing their pain and uncertainty. For the first time since that disastrous class, the storm inside Cass abated. She released a long, soundless breath, and the tightness in her chest eased.
“We better get back,” Sinister said eventually. “People are going to wonder if I ditched my own party.”
Cass turned away from the empty road, smiling faintly with amusement. “No offense, but by the looks of things when we left, no one is going to notice.”
Sinister inclined his dark head and contemplated this. “I think I’m insulted,” he decided.
“Oh, yeah?” Cass arched a brow at him. “Careful. You’re about to ruin your persona of being the cool guy who doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks.”
Sinister smiled again. “Noted. We definitely can’t have that.”
They turned in the direction of House Shadowripper, and their conversation drifted to school. Sinister told Cass which teachers to avoid, if she could, or how to pass certain classes. Apparently Professor Horn pulled all his test answers from the footnotes of the textbook, and Professor Harkens offered extra credit in the form of volunteer work, which Cass had completely missed in the syllabus. Once they reached the backyard, Sinister opened the gate for her again, and Cass caught his scent as she brushed past. She felt that heat in her lower stomach, only this time, it moved even lower. She tried to ignore it as they walked up the porch steps together, each one creaking beneath their weight.
Near the door, Cass faced Sinister and tipped her head back. She liked how tall he was, she thought. She liked that he was the sort of person who saw an old man with flowers and wanted to know his story. “Thank you for showing that to me,” she said.
He put his hands in his pockets. Cass had never seen him do that, since he signed every time he spoke. But now he just nodded, seemingly unaware as a dark lock of hair fell into his eye. Silence wrapped around them. Sinister’s gaze lowered, his lips slightly pressed together, as if he were thinking about something. His attention lingered near her collarbone. He’d noticed her tattoo, Cass thought. She waited for Sinister to ask about it like everyone else did. Instead, he lifted his head and told her, “I think you’re going to be an incredible voyant, Cass. Maybe the best one this place has seen in a long time.”
Warmth spread through her. Cass knew there were a hundred reasons why it would be a bad idea to get involved with him, but right now, she couldn’t bring herself to care about any of them. Her gaze dropped to his lips, and she wondered what Sinister Gray tasted like.
She was still watching those lips when Sinister said, “I’m with Webster.”
His words registered a beat later, and Cass’s stomach dropped. Now a rush of embarrassment flooded her. Past the hot, frantic urge gripping her to run, Cass realized the name sounded familiar. Within seconds, she remembered where she’d heard it. “Oh. The girl I met at the door?”
“Yeah.” Sinister paused, his expression unreadable. “If you ever need someone to talk to—”
“You’ll be the first person I come to, pinkie promise,” Cass cut in. To her dismay, she felt a telltale prickle in her eyes. “Thanks for the invite tonight. It meant a lot to my roommates.”
She shot him a tight smile before she swung away. She knew she was going to cry, and she didn’t want anyone to see, especially not Sinister. But Cass couldn’t leave, not without telling Finch. She had a feeling her roommate would worry if she just vanished, and Cass wasn’t a total asshole. Not all the time, at least.
But there was no sign of her. Cass blinked rapidly as she made her way through the party again, searching each face she passed for either of her roommates. Despite the distance she’d put between her and Sinister, Cass couldn’t seem to regain her composure. She wasn’t sure why, since it wasn’t like she’d never been rejected before, and it hadn’t been personal on Sinister’s part. None of that seemed to matter, though. Something within her had crumbled like that wall inside the chapel, and she needed to put the stones back to contain all the emotions spilling out like trapped spirits.
Thankfully, nearly everyone Cass saw was drunk, and fewer people noticed her this time. As their faces began to blur, she went upstairs, seeking shadows and quiet, and also to check the bedrooms. Cass highly doubted she’d find Bradley or Finch in any of them, but stranger things had happened. Especially when alcohol was involved.
When Cass reached the second floor, she discovered at least six doors within sight. Almost all of them were tightly shut, and Cass began to second guess her plan, since she really didn’t want to walk in on any of her classmates. One of the doors was cracked open, though, and the room beyond it was dark. As Cass approached, the only sounds she heard were the ones coming from downstairs. She pushed the door open, hoping Finch had come up here to be alone. The hinges creaked.
The people on the bed sprang apart, making the light fall over their faces. Cass’s gaze darted between them, her stomach dropping with recognition. It was Victoria Chen and Sinister’s girlfriend, Webster, who was cursing under her breath and starting to climb off the bed, one hand extended toward Cass. “Shit, wait, just let us—” she started.
Cass stepped back and closed the door, then ran for the stairs. She didn’t want to deal with this. Didn’t want to entangle herself in other people’s drama. She had enough of her own.
Webster called her name, but Cass was already at the bottom of the stairs. She dove into the throng of partiers and didn’t look back. There were too many people between her and the way they’d come in, so she aimed for the back of the house again. Laughter and shouts filled her ears as she fought her way down the hall and through the kitchen. The bottoms of her shoes started sticking to the floor.
“Great,” Cass muttered under her breath. For the second time that night, she yanked the door open and stepped outside.
It took her brain a beat to comprehend that she wasn’t outside, though. Cass drew up short, and she frowned. Her eyebrows drew together. She wasn’t in the yard. There were no steps or stars. She was… in a closet. Cass shook her head and turned around, finding the door tightly shut. What was happening? Had she hit her head?
Just as Cass reached for the knob, a sound reached her. Cass froze again. She could hear breathing somewhere in the dark.
But there was no one else in here. There couldn’t be—the closet was the size of Cass, with barely enough room for her to move. Blood roared in Cass’s ears as realization screamed through her.
She was locked in with a ghost.
