The Revenant Read Online Free PDF Page A

classes, I would ask her.
    The morning bell was to ring at five-thirty on Wednesday, but I woke hours before dawn. I kept my eyes down during breakfast and Chapel, lifting my head only when Miss Crenshaw made her announcements and teacher introductions. When she declared my name and whence I’d come, I held my chin high and tried to look fearsome.
    Recitations began at half past eight, and I started the day with the seniors. It was a small group—only eight girls—but each wore a crisply ironed apron over her striped blouse and narrow skirt. My own limp shirtwaist and skirt were shabby by comparison. These girls were the same age as me, but clearly more refined. Were they smarter? If they were, I couldn’t let them know it.
    I called roll with a moderately steady voice. Two girls had Bell as their surname, and one used it as a middle name—these three were the ones I’d met in the parlor on my first day at the seminary. Were they all cousins? The two prettier girls sat together at a desk three rows back, their heads held high. The third one sat nearer to the front, her eyes dark and eager behind thick spectacles.
    Lucy Sharp, the quiet girl who’d sat next to me on the stagecoach, now sat at a desk in the front row. I’d learned from Miss Crenshaw that she was the only full-blood girl in the senior class.
    Once the roll was called, I picked up our reader, gripping it tightly to disguise the tremor in my hands.
    “Ladies, if you will now turn to page eleven in your readers—”
    A hand shot up in the air. Fannie Bell, the tall and elegant girl from the parlor, was hailing me.
    “Yes, Miss Bell?”
    “Aren’t you going to tell us about yourself, miss?”
    I stared at her stupidly.
    “That’s what new teachers do at the beginning of the year.”
    Of course they do . I hadn’t prepared a speech. Why hadn’t I prepared a speech?
    “What do you wish to know?”
    Their faces instantly told me what a sorry response that was.
    “You seem very young,” said Fannie, her demeanor prim but her green eyes flashing with mischief. “How long did you teach before coming to the seminary?”
    I knew this trap only too well—I’d seen girls set it at the Athenaeum. As soon as they knew a teacher had come straight from school, their respect plummeted dramatically. They began to calculate the pranks they could pull. Why hadn’t I thought of this?
    “I think you know, Miss Bell, that before arriving here I was at the Columbia Athenaeum in Tennessee.” That was vague enough. They might actually believe I’d been teaching there. “Now, if you’ll open your readers and turn to—”
    Fannie Bell was raising her hand again, and this time she didn’t wait for my acknowledgment before she spoke.
    “How do you like your room, Miss McClure?”
    What was she playing at? “I have a lovely room.”
    “Do you hear anything at night?” Her eyes widened. “Have you seen anything strange ?”
    A nervous titter arose from some of the girls, while others squirmed in their seats.
    I took a breath and spoke slowly. “I haven’t heard or seen anything, Miss Bell.”
    “I ask, Miss McClure, because …” The girl next to her—Lelia, the one who broke her cup in the parlor—shook her head vigorously, but it only seemed to fuel Fannie’s ardor. “I ask because that room belongs to a dead girl.”
    Several girls gasped. Lucy Sharp put her head down on her desk. With great effort, I closed my gaping mouth. I needed to put a stop to this, but the back of my neck was tingling and curiosity got the better of me.
    “What do you mean, Miss Bell?”
    “Ella Blackstone lived in that room for three years, but she drowned ever so tragically last spring. There are some who say she haunts the school.” She held my gaze, challenge in her eyes. “Have you seen her ghost, Miss McClure?”
    Someone laughed—a high-pitched, hysterical sound—and a strained silence followed. I felt certain my face was red, that perspiration must be staining