Page 71 of Waysider
Cass wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. “Okay. Thanks.”
Michael stood there for another moment. “Bluebirds.”
“What?”
“You asked about my first memory. I remember that moment clearly. Twenty years ago, I opened my eyes and… there I was. I stood in front of a window, and everything was blurry. It felt like I’d been asleep for a long time. Then the lines became solid. I understood colors. The green of the leaves, the blue of the feathers. I realized I was looking at a bluebird. It rested on a branch close to the glass, washing itself. Then, down the hall, I heard a baby crying. I left the bird and followed the sound. A few doors down, I watched two people welcome their twins into the world. A son… and a daughter. Cassandra, they named her.
“So technically, we did meet in a hospital room.” Michael gave her a soft smile.
Cass didn’t smile back. The numbers changed on the alarm clock, and the silence rang in her ears again. She mulled over what he’d said, her insides roiling. Cass didn’t know if it was fear or just confusion.
What did it all mean?
Michael was still standing there. Cass met his gaze, uncertain what to say. Before she could fumble out a response he said, “You should get rid of that photograph. Burn it.”
Cass’s brow furrowed, wondering if she’d heard him right. Burn it? But it was the only photograph they had of him. Maybe the only one that still existed. Cass started to ask Michael why, but he was already gone. Cass scowled. She was really starting to hate that.
As she rolled over, a faint scent reached her. Michael’s, Cass realized in a burst of awareness. Since she was alone, she allowed herself a long, deep inhale. It reminded Cass of juniper, maybe. She also thought of pine needles and balsam. It was a good smell, Cass thought distantly, burrowing deeper into the covers. She knew she was falling asleep, but the knowledge didn’t scare her. Cass slipped away within seconds. Her breaths came slow and even, and those cruel, tight hands didn’t return.
For the rest of the night, she dreamed of bluebirds.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The palm tree above Cass rustled.
She sat in its shade, resting her spine against the ridged trunk behind her. She held an envelope in her hands. Cass had meant to tuck it away in her backpack and pull out some homework. But Cass just sat there, holding the envelope and thinking about its contents. A breeze rustled the ends of her loose hair.
As other students walked past, bits of their conversations floated over to Cass. Excitement clung to the air, along with scents of autumn. The others talked about parties and going home for winter break. Cass would be staying on campus, of course—she couldn’t afford any plane tickets, and she still wasn’t ready to see her family, despite all the weeks that had passed since she left. Every time Dad called, Cass gave him a reason she needed to stay in California. There was an event she wanted to attend, she had a test coming up, she wasn’t feeling well. Thanksgiving had been particularly tricky.
But now excuses were wearing thin. The last time they talked, Dad had told Cass he’d be sending her money for Christmas flights. It wasn’t a request.
She still hadn’t heard from her mother.
They’d never gone this long without speaking, and Cass was avoiding that fact almost as hard as she’d been avoiding other things. At the thought, her gaze returned to the envelope in her lap. A sigh filled her throat.
A moment later, a shadow fell across Cass, slightly darker than the palm tree’s silhouette. Cass arched her head back, and somehow she wasn’t surprised to see that it was Sinister Gray.
“You look worried,” he said.
Cass wordlessly held out the piece of paper she’d found on her bedroom rug last night. Someone must have slipped it beneath the door while she was in class. Cass had immediately recognized Headmistress Crane’s handwriting from the note in her welcome packet.
Sinister took the headmistress’s latest communication and settled on the ground beside Cass. As Sinister’s lips moved, she mentally recited the words with him. She’d read the message so many times that she had it memorized.
It has come to my attention that you haven’t attended any of the aptitude tests. Attendance is vital to determine your specialty and proper housing placement. Please report to the next scheduled test.
“Guess my first aptitude test is happening this week,” Cass said dully. “I’ve been avoiding them so long that I actually started to think I’d gotten away with it.”
Sinister handed the note back to her, then put his wrist on his knee, allowing it to dangle. Cass steeled herself, expecting him to ask why she didn’t want to take the test. Then she’d have to reveal the true depth of her fear when it came to revenants.
“You handled your first Haunting pretty well. Compared to that, this is nothing,” he remarked.
Cass scoffed, relaxing a little. “You’re kidding, right? I puked all over my shoes that night.”
“You didn’t run, though.”
Only because she’d frozen, Cass thought. But she couldn’t bring herself to admit that to Sinister. She wanted to be the brave person he seemed to think she was. Cass looked away, and her eyes caught on two Airweaver boys nearby. They passed a football back and forth between them, and the sound of their voices floated toward the tree. “I guess,” she said.
She felt Sinister studying her. One of the Airweavers laughed, his white teeth gleaming. “Is something else going on?” Cass heard Sinister ask.
