“It means that while you might be in the same classroom with your peers, the lessons they are receiving may be vastly different from the one you are receiving. Does this make sense?”
Chatter breaks out over the audience and I turn to Wade. “Did I just hear what I think I heard?”
Wade’s face is wide with surprise and he shrugs. “Heck if I know. What did you hear?”
“That each student is actually getting a different lesson at the same time during the same class?”
“Yup, that’s what I got, too.” He nods.
“Holy shit. How did I not realize this before now?” I say, my mouth gaping open.
“Er, probably because you didn’t get to have this orientation?” Wade says.
Shaking my head, I turn back to the stage. I think back to all the lessons from last year and how many times I felt like I must be falling so far behind because I didn’t know what powers I had—if any. And yet, the whole time, my lessons were individualized to each of us?
Mind officially blown.
“So, the way today works is not like anything you have read in books. Yes, Potter fans, I’m looking at you…” she says, her voice trailing off as she narrows her gaze. “Instead, you will be granted access to each and every room of this facility, including the outer grounds. We encourage your participation today, and quite honestly, everyday, because the more you explore, the more information we gather about your gifts. The better then, we can tailor the experience here for you. This even includes the people you are naturally drawn to. We have found over and over again, the supernatural beings we are in close proximity with have a direct correlation to the advancement of our own gifts. They offer a certain aspect that is dynamic to our own special qualities. So, pay attention to those you are drawn to. They are more than just friends; they are your energetic family. Their gifts will become a part of you in ways you cannot even begin to comprehend.”
I turn to Wade, placing a hand on his knee and giving it a squeeze. My smile falters when I see the look on his face.
“What is it?” I ask, tugging my eyebrows in.
“I really don’t think you should be hanging out with Colton anymore,” he says.
Chapter 3
Where Do I Sign?
Everything’s been a jumbled-up cluster since the Witching Stick.
Despite a decent afternoon wandering the campus, I haven’t pressed Wade about his declaration to avoid Colton. Mostly because I don’t want the awkwardness surrounding it to make things worse. And in all honesty, I don’t think Wade’s completely wrong. Colton does put out a strange vibe, and I don’t want to give either of them the wrong impression. Plus, the further away we get from the kiss, the harder it is for me to bring it up.
I should have told Wade about it ages ago, but I keep putting it off because Wade still hasn’t been honest with me about the graveyard. I know that’s a flimsy excuse. Really, I should be better than that, but evidently, I’m not.
Plus, there’s the whole refusal to stay at Blackwood Manor with me. And now here we are…
“Thanks for coming with me to look at apartments. I know you don’t fully understand why I wanna do this, so it means a lot,” Wade says, tapping the steering wheel and eyeing me from the driver’s seat.
I press my lips together and attempt a sincere smile, but I’m fairly certain it looks more like a grimace. “You’re right, I don’t fully understand, but I know you feel this is what you need.”
“It is,” he says, nodding.
“Well, on the upside, if you pick this one, you won’t be far from campus,” I say, leaning forward and looking out through the windshield.
The dilapidated three-story building looks like something out of a horror movie, with its boarded-up windows and shutters hanging at odd angles. The snow is barely shoveled off of the sidewalk and two steps leading up to the main entrance. I can feel my features tighten.
“Oh, don’t make that face. It isn’t that bad,” he chuckles, putting the vehicle into park.
I lean back, smoothing my expression. “Are you certain about that? I’m pretty sure I saw a dead body through one of those windows.”
He twists to look at the building again. “Seriously? You saw a ghost?”
Slapping him on the arm, I say, “No, goofball. I’m totally kidding. Geez. But if you’re not careful, you could slip on that sidewalk and it could claim its next victim.”
“Gee, thanks,” he smirks as he opens his door. “By the way, you can’t do that when you really can see dead people. It’s unfair. But on the upside, I could use your postmortem magic. If the dead do haunt this place, it’s a deal breaker.”
“That’s the least of your worries. I’d be more concerned about the cockroaches. Or other creepy-crawlies.” I shudder, making a face and following him out.
“Hey now, don’t discriminate against the creepy-crawlies. They have feelings, too,” he laughs, walking up to the building and pulling back the front door.
“I’m sure they do. Right before I stomp them with my foot and send them on their transcendental journey,” I mutter, walking inside.
“Cold, man. So, so cold,” he says, following after me.
The main entryway is more like a glorified hallway with a wall of small mailboxes plastered against the left-hand side. In its defense, it’s cleaner inside than it appears from the outside.
Wade shoots me a look of surprise. “Not too bad in here.”
“So far,” I say, raising my eyebrows. “Still plenty of opportunity to scare me off.”
“Ye have little faith, young one. Come on. The landlady said she’d meet me at apartment thirteen,” he says, walking down the hallway and stopping in the middle of the T junction, trying to decide which way to go next.
I laugh under my breath and follow after him.
“Ah, yes. This way. See, not too difficult,” he says, straightening his shoulders and taking the left hallway.
We walk down and turn to the sixth door on the left. The small number thirteen looks like it’s been branded into the wall next to the door, which is wide open.
“Hello?” Wade calls out, entering the tiny efficiency apartment.
My eyes flit around the space, taking as much in as possible, until the landlady walks out of the bathroom drying her hands. She’s barely older than the two of us, but her overall aura is that of an old soul, for sure. Her strawberry-blond hair is piled up on the top of her head in one of those messy buns I would kill to be able to pull off and her green eyes flash with mischievous insight.
“Ah, Mr. Hoffman. Right on time,” she says, setting the hand towel on the breakfast bar and thrusting her hand out.
Wade glances down and after a brief pause, shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Sorry, just wanted to make sure the bathroom was sparkling before you arrived,” she says, sensing his hesitation.
“Oh, thanks. I appreciate that,” he nods, shooting me a sideways glance.
The woman steps forward, her eyebrows raised, as she reaches out for me as well. “And you are…the wife?”
“Girlfriend,” I say, eyeing Wade as I shake her hand. My cheeks burn at the idea of being mistaken for a married couple. “Autumn.”