Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
There will be no keeping this woman out, I think wearily.
“My name is Leona Van Tassel,” she says with a nod. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ichabod Crane.”
Then she steps out into the dark hall and disappears, the shadows swallowing her whole.
Chapter 5
Kat
Did this schoolteacher just say that I was late for class?
“Late?” I repeat, tearing my eyes away from Professor Crane in the doorway and facing Sister Margaret. “You had told me there was no such thing as being late here,” I say to her.
Sister Margaret doesn’t look at me, instead just gives the professor a thin smile. “This is Katrina Van Tassel,” she says to him with emphasis. “I told her she can go at her own pace.”
His dark brows raise. “Van Tassel?” he repeats. He glances at me briefly before looking back to her, bowing his head slightly. “My apologies. I had no idea.”
Sister Margaret raises her chin and gives an even thinner smile to him before patting me on the shoulder. “I’ll be back after your class to finish giving you a tour.”
She walks off, her cloak flowing behind her like ink, and I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment as I look at my teacher. I didn’t think I’d be getting special treatment, and I can tell Professor Crane is already annoyed at me.
“Katrina Van Tassel,” he says, clearing his throat and stepping aside to let me in the room. “After you.”
“It’s Kat,” I tell him, a vague smell of fire and spice lingering in the air as I brush past him.
The classroom is nothing like I expected, other than the fact that every student is staring at me as I come in. The teacher’s desk is at the center of the room with a small, low platform in front that resembles a stage, and the desks are arranged in a horseshoe shape around it, probably a dozen or more students in total. Along one wall is a row of windows that look out into the trees, and at the back of the room is a collection of empty cages and jars half hidden by a dark curtain.
“And it’s Professor Crane to you,” he says stiffly, flicking his hand to an empty desk directly in front of his. I suppose no one wanted to sit in the line of fire. “And despite your relationship with the headmasters of the school, this is where you’ll be sitting. Sorry you don’t get first pick.”
A few students lean in and whisper to each other, eying me up and down. None of them are dressed as fancy as I am; in fact, the girls’ dresses are plain, high-collared, and threadbare at times, the boys’ shirts wrinkled, suit jackets ill-fitting. My skin flames even hotter. I immediately feel like I don’t belong here.
I quickly take my seat.
“And, Ms. Van Tassel,” the professor continues, his gaze piercing, “you’ll be expected to be here every morning when class starts, not twenty minutes later. I don’t care who you are and what Sister Margaret told you, but how she operates isn’t the same way I operate, and I am the god in this classroom.”
My eyes widen as he rounds the back of his desk, his hands clasped at his back as he stares at the floor. But when he turns his head to meet my gaze, I keep mine steady, lifting my chin to let him know I won’t consider him to be any god at all. It’s by some sort of miracle that I bite my lip and refrain from telling him so. I’m not sure my so-called status would prevent me from getting kicked out of his class.
“Now,” he says, his charcoal eyes still on me, “let me get back to the lesson at hand.”
He circles his desk, snapping up a textbook, and comes onto the platform right in front of me. His trousers are a little on the tight side, framed by the long length of his black jacket, and I immediately look down at the desk, not wanting to get any inappropriate thoughts. Someone had scribbled something in pencil at the corner, the words faded: Welcome to Sleepy Hollow. May you never leave!
“As I was saying before I was interrupted,” Professor Crane goes on, his voice louder as he addresses the class, “energy manipulation is all about giving rather than receiving. You’re all in this class because you’ve shown potential to the Sisters, and they’ve deemed that worthy of being explored. Many of you might not even be aware that you have this specific magic, that it’s been lying dormant inside you all this time. Some may have an inkling of this talent. Others yet may practice energy manipulation on the daily…away from prying eyes, of course. Perhaps trying it out on your dog or cat. Or a bothersome little sibling.”