Page 19 of Hollow
“Here,” I say, going into my desk drawer and pulling out a notepad. I hold it out to her. “You’ll need this for your next class.”
“Thank you,” she says, taking it from me, and I notice she’s careful not to touch my fingers again. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says.
“You’ll be seeing him this afternoon,” Sister Margaret announces. “For your mimicry class.” She then shoots me a knowing look. “Crane, I’ll make sure you get your updated class list by tomorrow. There have already been some changes. One student has been sent home early. It always starts this way, when people realize they’re not strong enough for the curriculum. But I’m sure that won’t be the case with either of you.”
She places her hand on Kat’s arm and leads her out of the door. Kat looks back at me over her shoulder as she goes, and our eyes meet. I manage to give her an encouraging smile, but her eyes are hard to read.
It’s only when the door closes and she’s gone that I realize what that look was.
It was fear.
Chapter 7
Kat
“Are you sure you’re doing alright?” Mathias asks me as he looks me up and down yet again as we ride side by side through the trail back home. “You’re looking paler than an egg white.”
“I’m fine,” I tell him. “Just hungry, that’s all.”
“They don’t feed you in that school?”
“I didn’t have much of an appetite at the time,” I tell him. It’s true. After my herbs and tinctures class with Ms. Peters, who was a plain and quiet spinster, I went to the dining hall. I think I was most excited about this concept because we didn’t have one at the schoolhouse I went to, where we all had to bring our lunch to school in tins and drink out of the pump, sharing one metal cup.
But my excitement was quickly dashed. It was odd walking into a place where everyone already seemed to know each other. Even though it was only the first day of school, I had to remind myself that the students all lived on campus and had been there for at least a week, whereas I was the odd one out who lived at home and got to leave every day when class was over.
Needless to say, I didn’t eat. Growing up in Sleepy Hollow, I never had trouble making friends. It’s just that when I found my good friends—such as Brom or Mary—I stuck to them like glue and tended to forget everyone else. So while I knew that I could make friends if I tried, Professor Crane’s words hung in my head. He asked if I was a snob, which meant that’s probably what the other kids think of me. I can’t blame them. I’m a Van Tassel; I showed up late and without any supplies, as if I thought I was better than everyone, not to mention what I was wearing. There’s no way anyone at this school would want to be friends with me, and I was too wary to test that theory.
So I just spent my lunch hour walking around the grounds, going over all the places that Sister Margaret took me on the tour, plus a quick stop at the stables to check on Snowdrop. Despite the sprawl of the campus and the buildings that go back into the forest, it really isn’t that hard to navigate.
Maybe it has something to do with memory loss because the further we get away from the campus, the less that I remember. By the time we ride past Wiley’s Swamp, all I remember clearly are my interactions with Professor Crane.
“So what did you learn today?” Mathias asks. “Normal stuff or something more…titillating?” He bursts into giggles at that, as if he was waiting a long time to use that word in an appropriate sentence.
I give him a placating smile. “You don’t learn much on your first day of college, Mathias. What did you learn today?”
While Mathias starts complaining about Roman numerals and why he, as an American, has no business learning them, I try and think about what I did learn. I know in Ms. Peters’ class, we went outside to talk about the plants grown in the class herb garden situated right outside the windows, but the details are fuzzy. The tour I took with Sister Margaret seems to be fading by the minute. All history of the school is forgotten. I don’t know why my sessions with Crane remain clear. Perhaps when I’m with him, I’m really paying attention. Perhaps he’s bestowing it on me.
When we eventually reach Mathias’ farm, the sun low and golden above the trees, Mary runs out to greet me, and I feel bad that I don’t have a lot of information to share with her. Not that I would be allowed to talk about what I learned even if I could remember, but I make a promise that by the weekend, we can have a real talk about my first week at college.
By the time I get home, untack Snowdrop, give her some mash, and turn her out for the evening, I’m more exhausted than I’ve ever been before.
“There she is,” my mother says as I stagger into the house. The warm and comforting smell of chicken soup on the stove, courtesy of our Dutch housekeeper, Famke, instantly makes me feel relaxed. “Supper is almost ready.”
“I’m going to put on my tea gown and freshen up,” I tell her, tired of this dress already.
I can tell she wants to ask me questions, but I bustle past her to the bathroom and let out a deep breath as I lean over the basin. It feels good to be home, though I have a feeling this journey twice a day, five days a week, is going to wear on me.
I splash water on my face and stare at myself in the mirror. I look different somehow, older and more mature. My cheeks have thinned out just a bit, my eyes deeper and brighter, my lips more lush, like I lost all remnants of girlhood this morning, as if the school and the magic helped usher me into the future. Until recently, I had been wearing my blonde hair down like girls do, but now that I’m considered of age, my hair is half up, adding to my maturity. I don’t necessarily look bad, but it’s a noticeable change. I look like a woman, not a teenager.
I wonder what Crane thought of me, I think. Did he think I was attractive? I had noticed him staring at my chest a few times. I have to say I liked his eyes on me as much as I liked the feeling of his hand around mine.
I just didn’t like what he was trying to do while holding my hand. Trying to read my memories? I can’t think of anything more invasive than that. Luckily, my body knew what was happening. I’m not sure if I was born with some sort of defensive mechanism against magic like that, but when his hand first touched mine, it was like the world went completely black, and I could see him in a large, black, empty space, just him standing in the void with me.
So I turned and ran. I put my back to him and ran through the darkness, and somehow, that prevented him from seeing who I really was.
Though perhaps that wouldn’t have been a bad thing. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for someone else to have a look inside your mind. They might end up knowing you better than you know yourself.
I’m starting to think I don’t know myself at all.