by Cheree Alsop
“They’re dealing with a lot, too,” I finished, glancing at him.
He nodded. “Exactly. Julianne is helping with funeral arrangements and Drake is at Zander’s house. I thought him being with a friend while I looked for you last night would help after what he’s been through.” He rushed on to say, “I’ll pick him up, of course, after I get home. I just wanted to spend time with you before you go.”
His words made my chest tighten. I wanted to hit something. It was an unfamiliar urge. I usually dealt with stress by taking things in stride. But I didn’t recognize my stride anymore.
“I’m ready,” I said.
“Are you sure?” Dad asked.
There was a note of uncertainty in his tone. When I looked closely, I could see it in his face. He didn’t want me to go.
There was something about knowing my dad also didn’t want me to leave that filled me with strength. I might have felt helpless myself in the situation, but I could be strong for him.
I nodded. “I’m sure, Dad.”
He followed me silently to the car. He took the luggage from my hand without a word and placed it in the trunk. I slid into the passenger seat and stared out the front window, my expression carefully neutral as though we drove to the store instead of some unfamiliar school in a city I barely knew. My few trips to New York had been of the sightseeing, touristy kind. I never thought I would end up living there.
I lost track of how long I stared at the cars, power lines, and houses that passed by my window. Day changed to night with the steady hum of the tires along the asphalt. Not even the low murmur of the voices on the radio broke the haze of my mind.
“This is it.”
Dad’s voice jerked me from my unseeing stare. I blinked and my vision focused on the busy evening streets of the colossal city. The sky scrapers glowed against the darkening sky. Apartments, hotels, office buildings, and churches crowded out the stars hidden by the never-ending lights. I had to give my father credit. His usual tirade against the insistent taxi drivers and pushy traffic had been replaced with a nearly-patient expression as he wove in and out of the cars.
At my questioning look, he pointed ahead and to the right. I followed his gaze to a gate set between two buildings that appeared older than those around us.
“I guess I just park here,” Dad muttered. He gave the space a few places beyond the gate a skeptical look.
I glanced back at Dad. He was notorious for his hatred of parallel parking. He once told me he picked the cul-de-sac we lived in simply because he would never have to parallel park. Though when his friends came over, they parked lengthwise to force him to do it whenever they could.
This time, instead of venting, he carefully pulled up to the car in front, turned the wheel, and eased our car back into the spot. I found myself staring.
Dad glanced at me. “I never said I couldn’t parallel park, I just said I didn’t like to do it.” He shook his head at my amazed look and said, “Come on. They’re expecting us.”
I didn’t know if it was his words or the ominous way the setting sun cast the gate in shadows that made the hair rise on the back of my neck. I told myself it wasn’t the wolf within me struggling to break free. Our footsteps echoed against the sides of the buildings and bounced back. My ears picked up the tiny slide of sand and grit beneath our shoes, the rub of my suitcase against Dad’s pant leg, and the small breath of trepidation he gave when we paused at the closed gate. The sounds should have been imperceptible, but my strange new hearing picked them up easily. I resisted the urge to cover my ears with my hands and shoved my hands in my pockets instead.
Dad pressed the button on a control pad near the gate.
“Welcome to The Remus Academy for Integral Education,” a tinny voice said. “How may we be of assistance? If you are looking for the Pizza Palace, it’s on the next block.”
Dad glanced at me. “We’re not looking for the Pizza Palace. I’m, uh, bringing my son Finn to check into your school.”
“You mean Finnley R. Briscoe?” the voice replied.
Dad’s eyebrows lifted and he looked at me. “Yes, that’s the one.” In an undertone, he whispered, “How many Finns do you think go to this school?”
I fought back a wry smile when I replied, “Hopefully not many.”
The gate opened inward with a slow, silent grandeur. The thick metal bars bore the letters R.A. within their ironwork. The top of the bars, which reached to double my height, ended in pointed tips that told of a painful end to anyone who tried to climb them. I couldn’t help but wonder if they were meant to keep people out or in. As soon as we passed, the gate swung back to its resting position. Instead of the resounding clang I expected, the metal gave a quiet snick when it shut.
“That was weird,” I muttered.
“What?” Dad asked.
I wasn’t in a frame of mind to talk to him about my new hearing abilities, so I pointed ahead. “This place. It’s weird.”
I realized the truth of my statement as soon as my eyes focused on where the gate had led us. We stood between the buildings still, but instead of old, cracked and faded bricks, the sides of the buildings on this side of the gate were green with moss. Each window was topped with gargoyles; I had the strange, distinct impression that they turned their head to look at us when we passed, but when I glanced back to check, they appeared normal. A chill ran down my spine.
“Your mother told me about this,” Dad said. There was an air of wistful nostalgia to his voice as he looked around with wide-eyes and an expression of awe on his face. “I never quite understood why she loved this school so much.”
“She loved it here?” The fact made the tension ease in my shoulders the slightest bit. I peered through the darkness of the alley to the building beyond. It appeared ancient like some of the churches in the city. A few spires reached toward the sky while arched windows complete with more gargoyles glowed in the rapidly falling darkness. An old cement sign with dragons crafted at the base read The Remus Academy for Integral Education. Dad and I walked up the steps. My ears caught the breath of hesitation he gave before he knocked on the door that towered far above us.
A moment of silence followed in which I heard the knock echo down a hallway beyond the door. Footsteps followed, and then the door swung inward. I forced a smile, but it faded when the door completed its circuit and rested against the far wall. Nobody stood at the entrance.
“That’s weird,” Dad said, his tone forcibly light.
“I heard footsteps,” I told him. I stared into the empty hallway feeling baffled.
Dad stepped inside. He gave the door a searching look. “Maybe it’s electronic,” he guessed.
“Maybe,” I said doubtfully. I followed him inside. There was no track or arm pushing the door open. I glanced back as we walked down the hall, sure that it would close the same way it had opened. Perhaps then I would see who did it. But my question went unanswered; the door remained open.
I shook my head as I trailed Dad around the corner. The hall we walked was tall enough for giants with carved wooden walls reaching high on either side. When I turned the corner, a wide staircase swept along the left side of the next hall while doors stood open to the right.
“I thought we were expected,” Dad muttered.
“And file that under ‘Potato Conundrum’,” a woman said as she backed out of an office in front of us.
Dad stopped short but she bumped into him anyway. She spun around, the files and papers spilling out of her arms as she did so.
“W-what are you doing here?” she asked in surprise.
Dad shot me a surprised look. “I’m here to check my son into school.”
The woman’s eyebrows rose. She glanced from Dad to me and her eyes widened. She adjusted her glasses. “Oh, yes, the um, well, yes. I see.” She cleared her throat. “I thought that with the late hour, well, I appear to be wrong. Let me just….”
She dropped to her knees and began to gather up the papers. Dad knelt and I fo
llowed. We quickly picked up the mess. I rose and handed her my stack. When she reached to take it, I noticed that her hand jerked back quickly with the stack. I had the strange impression that she wanted to get as far away from me as possible.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
She nodded quickly. “Yes, yes, fine.” She straightened her glasses and gave me a straight look for the first time. “Let’s get you checked in. I know Headmistress Wrengold is anxious to meet you. I shall awaken her immediately.”
“Awaken her?” Dad said. “Given the circumstances, I was told haste was important. I didn’t expect to find the Headmistress asleep.”
He gave me an apologetic look. I figured it was because of the haste comment. He hadn’t mentioned that part to me. We followed the woman into the first office.
“Headmistress Wrengold is what you would call a night owl,” the woman explained.
She set the untidy stack of papers on her desk and took a seat behind it. A nameplate bearing simply the name Mrs. Hassleton sat near the middle of the mess of pens, folders, receipts, a candy bar wrapper, and several pieces of yellow lined paper covered from top to bottom in scrawled handwriting. When Mrs. Hassleton sat, a sharp scent drifted into the air. I sneezed before I could catch myself.
The woman’s eyes darted to me. “Clove. It keeps away the dark creatures.”
“I’ll bet it does,” Dad agreed amiably, though the twitch of his lips said he doubted it.
I breathed through my mouth and fought back the urge to sneeze again and perhaps get myself banned as one of the dark creatures she feared. The woman picked up a telephone with a cord, something I hadn’t seen since my grandparents passed away. She pressed a button, waited a moment, then said, “He’s here.” She hung up the phone before I could hear a reply. She then turned a flat look on me and said, “You may wait in the hallway.”
She rose and walked around the table. Dad and I hurried in front of her. The door shut behind us with a resounding thud as though Mrs. Hassleton didn’t care who she awoke.
Dad stood in silence for a moment before he said, “Well, that was…something.”
“Maybe we should go home.” The words slipped from my mouth before I had the chance to think them through. I tried for humor, my usual go-to when I felt uncomfortable. I forced a smile. “Though at home there isn’t this pleasant aura of foreboding and doom.”
Dad, fortunately, appreciated my sense of humor. A quiet snort came from him and he replied, “Yes, such a feeling must have taken them years to perfect. Your mother failed to mention it.”
That brought a true small laugh from me. “Perhaps she wanted to keep it a surprise.”
Dad laughed in return. “Yes, because words wouldn’t describe it properly anyway.”
“I’m glad you appreciate the aura.”
I spun around so fast I nearly knocked the woman over. How she had snuck up behind us without my overly sensitive new hearing picking her up I had no idea. My heart thundered in my chest as I looked at her. I could see Dad’s shocked expression out of the corner of my eye as I took in the woman’s tall form wrapped in a brown housecoat, matching pants, sensible shoes, and a pair of spectacles that dangled on a golden chain from her pocket. Her hair was stacked on her head in a well-maintained nest of gray curls caught in bobby pins and held by a headscarf. She was tall enough that I had to look up to meet her gaze, which flickered from me to my father with an assessing light.
“I am Headmistress Wrengold,” the woman said with a lowering of her head that was both regal and welcoming. She opened her white-gloved hands in a simple gesture that indicated the school in which we stood. “Welcome to The Remus Academy for Integral Education, Mr. Briscoe and Mr. Briscoe.”
“T-thank you,” my dad said, collecting himself and holding out a hand. “I apologize. I thought Headmaster Wrengold would be the one to meet us.”
The Headmistress gave his hand a single shake. “Yes, well, when my husband, the late Headmaster Wrengold, passed away, I inherited both the title and the school. It was easier not to change the letterhead.” Her tone gave no indication as to how she felt about that. She turned to me. “And now we are pleased to welcome our first werewolf student in twenty-five years.” She gave me a tight-lipped smile. “Welcome to our Academy, Mr. Briscoe.”
Since she gave no effort to hold out her hand, I attempted a nod similar to hers and replied, “Thank you, Headmistress Wrengold. I’m looking forward to attending.”
“I’ll warn you now,” she said, her tone level, “There are some who feel taking on a werewolf student isn’t in the best interest of our other students.” When I opened my mouth to ask why, she lifted one of her gloved hands and said, “I asked them to give you the time to prove your worthiness to stay.” She lowered her voice, her gaze frank when she continued with, “All I ask is that you prove my faith worthy.”
Caught off-guard, I nodded.
“Don’t you worry, Headmistress. Finn is a good student. He works hard and won’t let you down,” my dad said.
The Headmistress glanced at him. “Yes. I expect as much from Silvia Roe’s son.” Her gaze softened a bit when she looked at me and said, “Your mother was an excellent student. My husband always thought she would be the next Headmistress of our Academy.”
I stared at her, surprised by the information. “What happened?”
A hint of sadness touched the Headmistress’s eyes. She shook her head. “That is a subject for another time. For now, I will have Mrs. Hassleton show you to your temporary quarters until we can make permanent arrangements.” She nodded at my father. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Briscoe. Have a good night.” She gave me another searching look and said, “And as for you, Mr. Briscoe, please see that you make my trust and the strings I have pulled to get you here worthy of the effort.”
“I will,” I said with a feeling that somehow I had already let her down.
Dad and I watched her walk up another hallway and turn out of sight.
“She snuck right up on us,” Dad finally said, breaking the silence that was left when the echo of her footsteps faded away.
“I’ll have to watch my back,” I replied. I tried to keep my voice level at the thought of him walking away as well and leaving me in this strange place with even stranger people.
Dad gave me a sad smile as if he, too, felt the same loss. “I think you’re going to have quite the adventure here,” he said.
I nodded. “It sounds like it.”
He glanced around as if looking for a way to stall, then his eyes lit up and he patted his coat pockets. He reached in one and pulled out a small black rectangle. “I almost forgot,” he said in a loud whisper. “I got you this. I don’t think it’s allowed, but it’ll keep us connected.”
I looked down at the cellphone he had set in my hand. Warmth filled me. My eyes burned with unshed tears after everything that had happened. I shook my head, refusing to let myself cry. I gave him a hug. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll be alright.”
He hugged me tightly, then stepped back. “I know you will, Finn. You’re the strongest of all of us.”
“I don’t know about that,” I replied.
Dad’s smile was warm when he said, “I do.”
The door to Mrs. Hassleton’s office opened. “Are you still here?” she asked as though she had expected us to vanish after talking to the Headmistress. She didn’t wait for my reply and instead said, “Well, let’s get you to your room, then. This way. Come along.”
I looked at Dad with the faint hope that he would change his mind and tell me to return with him given my strange welcome into the school. Instead, he gave me a wave of farewell. “Take care of yourself, Finn. I’ll be back at parent night, I promise.”
“Bye, Dad,” I said. I picked up the luggage he had set near the door and watched him walk back down the huge hallway. He looked so small beneath the sweeping reach of the carved walls. He gave one last wave before he turned the corner.
“Come along,” Mrs. Hass
leton said.
When I turned to follow her, a cold breeze swept past. The hair stood up on the back of my neck and my skin tingled.
“Welcome to Haunted High,” a voice whispered in my ear.
I spun to look behind me, convinced that either Headmistress Wrengold or someone equally as silent had crept up behind me, but nobody was there.
“Mr. Briscoe, I’m waiting,” Mrs. Hassleton said.
I tried to ignore the feeling of foreboding as I followed her toward the sweeping staircase.
Chapter Three
The room she left me in was lit with a single bulb from the ceiling. One bed, a dresser, and a circular rug on the bare wooden floor were the only furnishings. The small window against the far wall let in moonlight through the gap in the curtains. A shiver ran down my spine and I felt the wolf stir. I pushed the feeling down and looked away, afraid I would change form and give up the only place I had left to go.
“The bathroom’s down the hall,” Mrs. Hassleton said. She hadn’t entered the room, merely opening the door and gesturing me inside with a quick flick of her finger. “Breakfast is at seven. You’ll hear the bell to wake up at six-thirty. I wouldn’t unpack. You’ll be getting a room assignment tomorrow.”
She left before I could ask any questions.
I set my duffle bag on the bed and glanced at the window. The moonlight that trickled inside called to me. I took a step forward before I realized what I was doing. I backed away until my legs hit the bed and I sat down. I was trapped. There was nowhere to go and no one to talk to. I ignored the urge to call my dad with the cellphone he had given me. I didn’t want to admit to both of us that I couldn’t handle the situation.
I kicked off my shoes, fell backwards on the bed, and closed my eyes. I willed sleep to come. I should have been exhausted. I had dozed in and out during the car ride, but not enough to really be called sleep. I told myself I was tired, that everything would be easier in the morning, and that maybe I would settle in once I had my real room. But the moment my mind started to drift, I heard the screams of Drake and Sebastian. Water closed over my head. I felt like I was choking. I struggle to draw in a breath and clawed at my throat. My chest burned. I gasped and my eyes flew open.
