Page 16 of Waysider
“Cass Ryan.”
“I’ll let the headmistress know you’re here,” the girl said, picking up a phone in front of her.
A whisper of apprehension went through Cass. It didn’t seem like a good sign that she hadn’t even started her classes and she was already getting sought out by the headmistress. But her tone was nonchalant as she replied, “The headmistress?”
“She likes to greet every new student personally.” The girl offered Cass a fleeting, distracted smile before someone picked up on the other end. As Side Pony spoke in a low murmur, Cass darted a glance at Cal. His answering grin was more reassuring, and something inside Cass settled at the same moment Side Pony hung up the phone and refocused on her. “She’ll be out in a couple minutes. Feel free to take a seat.”
Cal made a soft sound of amusement at this. Cass was already nodding and moving away from the desk, but she didn’t sit—she paced. Every so often, she looked toward the door. Side Pony watched for a few seconds, probably trying to decide whether she should say something. If Cal could have, he would’ve told her not to bother. As if she’d heard him anyway, Side Pony put her head down and started writing.
Cass was still pacing when the door finally opened. The headmistress walked in, and as she turned, Cass’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
It was Sally Crane.
“Miss Ryan, there you are. I was starting to get worried.” Crane handed a manila folder to Side Pony before she faced Cass, her hands folded in front of her. Today she wore a plaid peplum blazer and a black skirt that revealed surprisingly muscled legs.
“My flight was delayed. You didn’t tell me you were the headmistress,” Cass said bluntly.
Crane matched her tone. “I prefer to meet our prospective students before formally making an offer. My role here was not relevant to your decision. Now, I had planned to give you a tour of the campus upon your arrival, but you must be tired. Why don’t I take you to your house, and one of the other students can give you a tour tomorrow, once you’ve had a chance to rest?”
Apparently the question was rhetorical, because Crane nodded at the girl behind the desk and turned away, moving to open the door for Cass.
They left the office together. Crane’s heels clipped against the floor, the tiles gleaming in colors of twilight. The headmistress spoke as they walked. “Else & Bellows was the first of its kind. Our founder, Professor Else, is the reason parapsychology is now so widely accepted. Voyants have numerous options now when it comes to their education, but students still come here from all over the world and the waiting list is extensive.”
Voyants, Cass knew, also thanks to the welcome packet, was the official name for what they were. Cal still called them ghost hunters, of course. He claimed it sounded cooler.
The three of them left Old Main and went down the steps. This time, Cass let herself scan the campus. It was nearing sunset. Burnt sunlight streamed through the treetops and across the grounds, shining on the students lounging on the grass. Studying them, Cass finally felt the first stirrings of curiosity. “Is anyone else starting this week?” she asked.
“Oh, goodness, yes.” Crane turned right, starting down a path that hugged the length of a lecture hall, and Cass followed suit. Cal walked behind them. “Voyants are reborn every single day, so new students arrive every semester. You’ll be meeting some of them in a few moments.”
A nervous flutter went through Cass. Seeking a distraction, she allowed herself to look more closely at some of the other students as they passed. Since she’d started seeing things, she had learned to keep her eyes down or her head bent. But here, she reminded herself, there were no ghosts. A small rush of relief went through her, and for the first time in months, some of that pressure in her eased up. Just a little.
Her peers were different from the ones at her old school. Not all of them were young—to Cass’s surprise, she spotted several gray heads and lined faces. There was also a wide variety of skin color, styles, and languages. As they passed, she heard Spanish, French, and what she thought might be Mandarin.
There was one thing every single person in the courtyard had in common, though.
“Why does everyone have a pin?” Cass asked Crane, who had been walking beside her silently.
The gold pieces gleamed everywhere. On backpacks, shirtfronts, collars. Some of them were too far away to make out details, but others, Cass could see. She spotted one in the shape of a small tree, and another was a bird.
“It’s a matter of pride, displaying which house you belong to,” the headmistress told Cass. “There are five. House Airweaver, House Pennyseeker, House Dreamwalker, House Timekeeper, and House Shadowripper. I myself hail from House Timekeeper. We’re here.”
Crane halted, turning, and Cass did the same. She followed the older woman’s gaze. When Cass registered this was where she’d be staying, she felt another flutter inside her, as if something fragile and small were waking up.
“Not bad, Cassie,” she heard Cal murmur.
Cass had lived in the dorms at Wayne State. These dorms—or whatever fancy name they had for them here—were nothing like them. It was a house. A huge house made of red brick, with bright lampposts on either side of the door. The winding path leading up to it was framed by tall hedges, and those same hedges grew along the edge of the yard, hiding the lower floor from view. Over the top of the hedge, Cass caught a glimpse of a trellis, ivy growing around its edges.
It was beautiful.
“Welcome to House Wayside, Miss Ryan,” Crane said, starting up the path.
Cass hurried to catch up, feeling like a child. “Wayside?”
“It isn’t officially one of the five” was all the headmistress said. They reached the door. Crane rapped on it, and Cass swore that even her knuckles sounded crisp and reserved.
“I’m going to take a look around the neighborhood,” Cal said abruptly, making Cass jump. She was so startled that she actually turned to him, but then Cal added, “I’ll be back later.”
With that, he turned and went back the way they’d come, walking in that easy lope of his. Cass didn’t have time to glare at his retreating back, because she heard the groan of a door opening. She spun back around just as Crane said, “Ah, Miss Pritchett, excellent.”
