Chasing Starlight: Cassandra's Story (The Daughters of Night Chronicles)

by Jennifer Siddoway

  Chasing Starlight

  ~ Cassandra’s Story ~

  The Daughters of Night Chronicles

  By

  Jennifer Siddoway and Matilda Reyes

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, locations and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental. Any actual locations mentioned in this book are used fictitiously.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  All rights are retained by the author. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. The unauthorized reproduction, sharing, or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Chasing Starlight (The Daughters of Night Chronicles) - First Edition

  Copyright © 2019 by Jennifer Siddoway and Matilda Reyes

  Cover Design: Dark Unicorn Designs

  ISBN-13: 978-1-677315-62-8

  Produced in the USA

  No Place Like Home

  Chapter One

  I winced from the summer heat while carrying another box of supplies to my car. My hair was pulled into a messy bun, and a blonde tendril fell around my face as I stepped into the parking lot. The sun beat against my back, and sweat dripped from my forehead, making the entire experience terribly uncomfortable. My arms were sore from going back and forth on so many trips, but, thankfully, this was the last box. When I made it to the back of my car, I realized the door had fallen shut and let out an exasperated groan.

  Damn.

  Opening the door with my arms full of crafting supplies presented an unexpected problem. My eyebrows knit together as I struggled to unlatch the handle, reaching from beneath the box to graze the car door with my finger. The tips of my fingers found the latch, and the door swung open, revealing the rest of my loaded classroom supplies. Most of the space was taken up already and it didn’t look like the supplies in my arms would fit.

  Crap, how am I going to make this work?

  I set the box on the trunk of the car and leaned in to rearrange things, hoping it would create the space I needed. The process reminded me of playing Tetris or assembling a complex puzzle you didn’t have all the pieces to. With a stroke of creativity, I tried another tactic, but it proved even less helpful than before.

  I felt my anxiety rise and exhaled in frustration before trying yet again. And again. Nothing seemed to work. Sweat seeped through my shirt, and I checked the time on my phone.

  Double crap! I’m running late. Okay, Cass. You can do this.

  My heart pounded harder while my anxiety built, and I knew I’d only spiral if I could not calm down. Angry tears pricked at the corners of my eyes while I reached into my purse and pulled out my sleek, rose-colored iPhone. I was mad at myself for being late and seemingly unable to pack my car and make this work, but most of all I was angry that my mental illness affected me this way. A normal person would have handled the situation better, but Generalized Anxiety Disorder makes simple things feel impossible and overwhelming at times.

  I found my sister’s contact information in my list of recent calls and hit send to see if she could talk me off the ledge.

  It rang twice before she answered, and I glanced around the parking lot nervously with the phone pressed against my ear.

  “Hey, Cass. What’s going on?” Halle’s voice greeted me on the other line.

  My emotions boiled over at the sound of her voice, and I felt a sob break free. “H-hey.”

  She must have picked up on my distress and responded cautiously, “You…don’t sound good. I can feel it. What’s going on?”

  Her soothing demeanor sent a wave of comfort through me. Halle was so much more than just my twin; she and I had a special connection, one that few people understood. Blood and magic bonded us because of our fae ancestry—she could sense my emotions no matter how far apart we were.

  Knowing that she could feel my panic and it wouldn’t do me any good to lie, I braced my hand against the roof of the open door and said, “You’re going to laugh at me, but I was having a panic attack and needed to talk to you.”

  “I’m promise not to laugh,” Halle responded soothingly. “But if you don’t talk soon, you’ll give us both a headache. Now speak.”

  Huffing in exasperation and embarrassment, I told her, “It’s the teachers’ first day back, and we’re supposed to set up our classrooms to get ready for the students. I have all these boxes ready to go, but they won’t all fit in my car. I’ve been trying to make them fit, but nothing works. I spent the last twenty minutes trying to figure this out, but now I’m going to be late, and that’s not how I wanted to introduce myself to my new co-workers.”

  My voice was shrill by the time I finished the explanation, and Halle paused before responding. “Wow, so that escalated fast, huh?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Okay, well, I’m glad you called me. Take a deep breath and step away from your car; we will figure this out together.”

  I nodded against the phone and breathed through my nose, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart. “Okay.”

  “Good, now break it down for me. What are we dealing with? Can the box be broken down into smaller pieces, and tucked around everything else?”

  Halle’s calm and logical approach was so obvious once she said it. I hadn’t been thinking clearly in my heightened emotional state, and her suggestion made perfect sense. “Yeah, that will work.”

  I took the crayon boxes and other supplies from the box on my trunk and slipped them into the containers sitting along the backseat. Once the box was empty, its content securely spread across the floorboards and other boxes, I shut the door, telling her, “Okay, it’s done. I was able to get everything inside. Thank you, Halle.”

  She scoffed playfully and said, “Pssh, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay on the phone with you until you get to the school.”

  I smiled at her mothering tone while walking to the driver’s side. Once I climbed inside and started the car, Halle asked, “Have you been taking your medication?”

  “Yeah, but it still happens every now and then.”

  “I know, Hon. We don’t always have control over when these things happen.”

  Pursing my lips while I turned onto another street, I thought about the years of therapy she and I have been through. My anxiety, while more readily apparent than most, was no different than my sister’s personality quirks—she had her own cross to bear.

  I banished the unpleasant thoughts from the forefront of my mind and turned my attention back the road. It was a beautiful August day in San Diego and the sky was clear as far as I could see. Palm trees lined the streets of the surrounding neighborhood and provided extra shade for the campus when I pulled into the parking lot. The school was a charming blue and gray building that had a sign out front reading, Canopy Oaks Elementary. I’d driven by it a dozen times in my excitement after
being hired, and now the first day was finally here.

  “Halle, I need to go,” I told her grudgingly. “I’m pulling into the faculty parking lot.”

  “Okay. Have a great time setting up your classroom.”

  “Thanks for helping me.”

  “No problem, that’s what sisters are for. Call me later this evening to let me know how it goes.”

  I grinned, knowing she’d call me first whether I wanted her to or not. The phone was still pressed against my ear as I put the car in park and turned the key in the ignition.

  “Sure, I’ll let you know how it goes when I get back home.”

  “Okay. Love you, Cass.”

  “I love you, too, Halle. Thanks again.”

  The call disconnected, and I let out an exasperated sigh. My palms sweated as I slid the phone into an exterior pocket of my purse–the first sign things were going to go badly for me—so I worked through a quick meditation. I was still coming down from the anxiety attack, and I couldn’t start the first day at my new school with it rearing its ugly head. After some breathing exercises, my hands relaxed, and the vise around my chest loosened. I sighed with relief, squared my shoulders and exited the vehicle.

  The air was thick with summer heat as I walked toward the set of the school’s entrance, and beyond it, the double doors of the front office. An electric buzz of anticipation flowed through me as I came to a set of clean glass doors and grabbed the handle. To the left was another set of double doors marked Main Office, so I squared my shoulders with resolve and took another brave step into the building. A tall, slender woman was sitting behind a desk and looked up at my arrival, saying, “Good morning, Ms. Williams. Nice to see you back!”

  I gave her a pensive smile, hoping it wasn’t the panicked grimace that I felt. “Hi, Megan. Have they assigned me to a classroom yet? The email said they were moving things around this year.”

  The words sounded like a question when they left my mouth—I still couldn’t believe it.

  “Oh, yes! My apologies, I should have called you earlier. Come on; I’ll take you there.”

  Megan stood from behind the desk and walked to the entrance down the hallway. She was shorter than she seemed behind the counter and had wavy brown hair that fell just below her shoulders. I took an immediate liking to her after our initial interview, and I knew she and I would be friends.

  “We’re so excited to have you here,” Megan gushed. “Let me know if there is anything I can do to help you settle in. I know the other teachers are very excited to meet you, too.”

  I smiled at her kind offer and glanced around the office. “Thank you very much. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She gestured down the hallway with a wave of her hand, and I cast one last glance toward the door before following her. Megan led me down the hall then paused at a pair of open wooden doors. She led me inside and revealed a vast open floor plan with four adjoining classrooms.

  “Here we are!” she announced excitedly. “The layout keeps all rooms of the same grade level connected so the teachers can interact with each other and combine for communal lessons. The media center and cafeteria are just across the hall.”

  I smiled appreciatively while glancing over the space in wonder. Megan hummed with approval and shut the door behind us, guiding me to one of the two classrooms. Ahead of us, I spotted a tall, mousy-haired woman wearing a pair of paint-splotched overalls.

  “Oh, what perfect timing! Ms. Williams, this is Alice Haywick, she’ll be in the room right across from yours.”

  “Oh, how lovely. It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Haywick,” I offered while taking her outstretched hand.

  The woman smiled warmly. “You can call me Alice. Welcome to Canopy Oaks.”

  Megan grinned, delighted that we appeared compatible. “Well, I’m sure you’ll get along fine. Cassandra, I’ll leave you here with Alice to finish getting settled. Don’t forget that we have a faculty meeting tomorrow morning at ten.”

  I nodded in confirmation and said, “Yes. Thank you.”

  As she left through the door to the third-grade classrooms, I released a sigh. Alice glanced at me from her doorway and smiled. I made my way over to the classroom Megan designated as mine and looked around. There was a pristine wooden desk with a dry erase board mounted on the wall behind it, four rows of child-sized desks, and a compact sitting area with shelves full of books. The opposite wall featured an enormous window that overlooked the colorful playground, just like I’d always pictured it. It was a dream come true.

  After living in Arizona for several years, it felt weird to be home in California and working as a professional.

  “What do you think?” Alice asked as she watched me take it in.

  “It’s fantastic,” I admitted. “I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed.”

  Alice walked into my classroom and patted m arm. “This is your first year, right? Nerves are totally understandable, especially in the first few weeks. I’m sure you’ll do fine. We’re a family here, and we take care of each other.”

  “I appreciate that,” I told her honestly. “Thank you. I’ll head outside and bring in some of my things.”

  She took a step toward me and asked, “Do you need any help?”

  “Nah, I’ll be okay. Thanks, though.”

  Alice nodded and went back to her classroom while I headed out the set of double doors. It took me six trips to haul the boxes inside and stack them in the corner of my classroom. By the end of my run, I was exhausted and sat in a chairs to catch my breath.

  My desk was littered with pictures of my family, especially Halle. Since she moved to Boston for grad school, it felt as if part of me was missing. Growing up, we were inseparable, but life was different now. Part of me was happy with this new direction, but being separated from her made me indescribably sad.

  Realizing I was getting distracted, I turned my attention back to the work at hand and finished putting my books on the shelves. Once the reading corner was completed, I lined the announcement board in colorful paper. The welcome sign was just as bright and enthusiastic as I hoped the rest of the room was. When I thought about meeting my students next week, my stomach somersaulted.

  Social situations and I did not mix well, but I was working on it. Twenty-four third graders shouldn’t be that hard.

  I glanced over what I’d accomplished and smiled. The classroom looked precisely the way I wanted it to. Alice finished her room around the same time I did, so we walked to the parking lot together. The August sun was sweltering in the California heat, and I couldn’t wait to get home to my air-conditioned apartment. We said our goodbyes, and I climbed into the cab of my silver Prius. I plugged my phone into the USB drive and backed out of the parking space.

  Driving home was a completely different experience than my arrival earlier, and the stress of loading my car seemed like a distant memory. The streets around Balboa Park were lined with palm trees in neatly manicured neighborhoods, and I appreciated the time to decompress. I arrived at my apartment complex in a record fifteen minutes and parked in the small lot outside. My friend, Samantha, had an extra room and was kind enough to let me rent there while I settled back in town. The apartment wasn’t impressive, but the neighborhood was safe, and the price was something I could afford. I hadn’t finished unloading all my boxes after moving in a month ago but, despite that, our space was reasonably clean. Both of us took out our stress by cleaning, which was one of the many reasons we got along so well.

  I walked past the them into my room, let out a tired sigh and kicked off my shoes before collapsing on my bed. While I stared up at the ceiling, I exhaled through my nose and thought about all the things that would be different now that I was teaching. I still didn’t really identify as an adult, so it was weird to think of myself as a teacher. Still, this is what I’d been working toward for as long as I could remember. I’d always wanted to work with children and be a teacher.

  After I caught my second wind, I changed into a pair of sweat
pants and a camisole, with a loose cardigan that scooped down to expose my shoulder. Pieces of my wavy blonde hair were escaping from its bun, so I let it down and pulled it into a low ponytail that fell to the side of my neck.

  Just as I was getting comfortable, there was a buzz from an incoming Skype call on my open laptop across the room. I rolled over to see who it was and set the computer on the end of the bed. Halle’s avatar blinked across the screen, my sister reaching out to me from Boston. It was three hours later on the East Coast, so nearly eleven-thirty her time.

  Crap. I was supposed to call her.

  I sat up and accepted the call with a laugh. “Halle-bear! Sorry I didn’t call you earlier. Time sort of got away from me.”

  She grinned, waving back to me through the screen. “Hey, Cass! How’s school?”

  Halle’s dark, brown hair was pulled into buns at the back of her head with a streak of blue along the side. She had the same grey eyes I did, but hers were framed with thick, black glasses. Freckles sprinkled her heart-shaped face. She wore plaid flannel top that hung from her shoulders over a tank top, and I couldn’t help but smile. Halle was a mirror image of me, and I didn’t feel complete without her.

  “School is good,” I told her. “My classroom looks amazing, and I may have even made a friend.”

  “Ooh! Tell me everything.”

  I bobbed my head excitedly, more out of a reactionary impulse than enthusiasm. “It’s nice. They have all the third-grade classrooms joined with a communal area in the center—I love it. The campus is beautiful, but it will take time to get used to.”

  “I bet.”

  “Thankfully, the kids don’t show up until next week. That should give me plenty of time to learn my way around.”

  “Oh, geez. I’m sure you’ll do great,” she assured me. “Those kids will love you. You’re way too maternal not to be adored.”

  I smiled and pulled my knees toward my chest. “I hope you’re right. We’ve got an open house on Thursday I need to get ready for.”