Page 52 of Waysider
The professor lifted her head. “Yes?”
“I heard that you’ve been teaching here for forty years.” Cass adjusted the strap of her backpack and lowered it to the floor.
“I have, yes. Forty-two, in fact.”
Cass mustered her courage and pulled the photograph out of her bag. The one she’d borrowed from the other lecture hall and had spent nearly every night staring at since. Cass’s heart felt uneven as she handed it to Professor Harkens and pointed at the figure on the left side. “Do you know who this is?” she asked.
Professor Harkens studied it for a moment, her silver brow creased. The silence stretched, and Cass could hear the clock on the wall ticking. Other sounds floated in from the hallway—voices, the squeak of shoes, laughter.
Cass fought the urge to fidget. She’d debated all weekend whether or not to ask Professor Harkens about the photograph. What if her teacher told someone she had it, or that Cass was asking questions about a dead student? None of it could lead anywhere good. And if anyone found out Michael existed, it was only a matter of time until they found Cal, too.
The second she had the thought, Cass felt a rush of panic. Shit. This had been a mistake. A huge mistake. She needed to—
“That’s Michael de Leon,” Professor Harkens said, making Cass snap to attention. The professor handed the picture back. “Tragic story.”
Cass’s heart slowed. Breathing easier, she glanced at Michael’s solemn face again before she tucked it back into her bag. Her mind latched onto the name and repeated it silently. Michael de Leon. “What happened?”
Professor Harkens paused again. As one moment passed, and then two, Cass struggled to hide the tension filling her shoulders. She’s wondering why I want to know about him, she thought. But once again, the professor surprised her.
“No one knows for certain,” she said finally. “His body was found off campus. Throat slit, badly beaten. The authorities ruled it a mugging, but it was also speculated if there was gang involvement. The case went cold.”
“Oh.” Cass felt a rush of disappointment. She didn’t know what she’d been hoping for, exactly. She stood there, trying to think of anything else she could ask. Something that would get rid of the tightness in her chest every time she thought about Michael… which had been happening more and more lately.
Suddenly Cass realized Professor Harkens was studying her with the same sharpness she’d given the photograph. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Miss Ryan?” the woman asked.
“No.” Cass’s heart accelerated again in a silent warning, and she quickly added, “Thank you for the information. I better go. Uh, great class today.”
Professor Harkens’s blue eyes were still intent. “I appreciate that,” she replied. “You’ve been an exemplary student so far. Keep up the good work.”
“I will.” Cass offered a tight, fleeting smile before she turned and walked away, trying to keep her shoulders down and move at a casual pace. Nothing to see here, nothing to hide. Cass didn’t look back when she reached the door, and then she stepped into the hallway, letting out a faint breath as the door closed behind her.
As her pulse returned to normal, Cass prayed she hadn’t just made a grave miscalculation. She mussed her bangs and started down the hall, heading for a set of ornate doors on the other end, which were covered in carvings of emblems from every house. Cass touched the tip of a bird’s wing in passing and walked into bright, open air.
Outside, the pathways had already started to clear, but there were still a few stragglers. A guy walked past Cass carrying a boombox. She tried to place the song as she scanned the courtyards and hedges, instinctively on the lookout for anyone—or anything—that didn’t belong amongst the living.
“Who is Michael de Leon and why are you asking questions about him?”
Cass jumped at the sound of Cal’s voice. Then his question registered, and her second reaction was indignation. He’d been at her class? He’d put himself at risk? She opened her mouth to snap back at him.
As quick as it had come, though, Cass’s anger abruptly faded. She was so damn tired. Tired of revenants, tired of fighting with Cal, tired of the lies. For a second, she considered just telling him the truth. Maybe if she didn’t make a big deal out of it, her brother wouldn’t freak at the revelation of another ghost in the house. Michael? Oh, he’s some guy that I accidentally attached to. It’s totally fine, I have it completely under control.
Yeah, there was definitely no chance Cal wouldn’t overreact to that.
There was also the fact that exposing Michael made something inside Cass wrench. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Cal, she told herself. Cass just knew him, and she knew what he’d say. She could already hear his serious voice in her head. We can’t trust him, Cass. He’s a stranger. I’ll figure out a way to get rid of him.
Cal was level-headed to a fault. When they were little, Cass used to make a game out of trying to piss him off. That was how she’d learned each and every one of his buttons. Hell, she’d probably made some of them. Her brother never retaliated, even when she’d truly deserved to have her ass handed to her. The worst he could muster were a few insults and scornful looks.
So a threat from Cal didn’t really mean anything, Cass concluded. She didn’t think he would really hurt Michael—hell, she didn’t even know if revenants could touch each other—but she didn’t want to find out. Her life was hard enough without adding this headache to it.
Cal was still waiting for her response. Cass forced herself to heave an annoyed sigh, as if she’d decided to let it go. She pointed her thumb at her backpack. “I found a photograph from the 1920s, and it got me curious about the history of Else & Bellows. I’ve been meaning to ask you about it, too. I know you can’t see the others, but have you ever sensed any old students… around?”
“It’s not like we have a club,” Cal said. He believed her. As Cass’s body went loose with relief, his head turned, and Cass watched her brother’s eyes light up with interest. “Who’s that?”
She followed Cal’s gaze, and Cass felt her own interest pique. Teddy and Victoria were coming up the path. Neither of them had noticed her yet because they were locked in a low, intense conversation. They didn’t seem angry, though. Teddy wore an expression that said he was listening closely to whatever Victoria was saying. Were they getting back together? Cass wondered. And why did she even care?
Cal had wisely shifted out of sight. Cass left the sidewalk and joined him behind the hedge. “Down, boy,” she said. “Victoria Chen isn’t available, and you can’t exactly take her to the drive-in.”
Cal didn’t look at her. He peered through the leaves, and his expression was strange. “I meant the guy,” he muttered.
