Free The Revenant by Sonia Gensler Page A

lined up below, and the ones who did not hold guitars held lanterns. I searched the faces, ignoring the voice in my head warning me to keep out of sight. I recognized Larkin Bell holding a lantern, and, yes, there was Eli Sevenstar, strumming his guitar and singing at the top of his lungs. He was gazing intently at the girls looking through the central windows, and I turned to see that they were, perhaps, hanging a bit too far out the windows. At least they were properly wrapped in shawls. I would mention something to Olivia when I returned to the landing.
    I looked down once more and allowed myself to wish, for a moment, that I were a student at the seminary and could smile and flirt with those handsome young men. Truly, there was only one with whom I wished to flirt.
    As if hearing my thoughts, Eli Sevenstar turned to look in my direction. And, to my fanciful mind, it seemed he sang to me. He looked up at my window for so long—did he truly see me there? Or did he look because it was once Ella’s room? Sobered by that thought, I closed my window and withdrew.
    I sat on my bed for a moment, trying to calm the pounding in my heart. How could I be such a fool? He was a student . Now every time I saw him, my heart would thud and my face would flush. Surely the girls would see right through it and despise me all the more. And Eli himself would smirk to know that a poor and lonely teacher, a lady doomed to eternal spinsterhood, had a pash for him.
    I should have returned to the landing but instead reclined upon the bed with a groan. I may have thrashed about a bit too.
    A thumping noise stilled me. I glanced at the window. Nothing but the strains of guitar music and singing could be heard from outside. And then the thumping sounded again, followed by creaking and shuffling.
    It came from above—the third floor.
    The faint melodies of guitars and voices faded as I crept up the east staircase. I’d never heard noises above me before, and though I knew it must be the primaries, my heart skipped a few beats as I neared the third-floor landing. I had no idea who resided in the turret room above me.
    I stepped softly from the landing into the corridor.
    Several girls stood outside the doorway of the turret room, from which the light of more than one lamp glowed. Their faces were transfixed. I rudely pushed my way through so that I could see into the room.
    Three lamps were lit on a table by the windows, which were opened wide to let in the music from below. In front of the lamps, four barefoot girls moved about the room, winding around each other in a stately dance. They took turns making elegant leaps that revealed their smooth brown legs. Their black hair gleamed in the flickering lamplight as it fell into their faces. I stood staring with the others, mesmerized by their slim, swaying bodies, until the song came to an end.
    The girls looked up—and froze in place when they saw me.
    “We’re not doing nothing wrong, miss,” said one. “We just like to dance when the boys come to sing.”
    “I heard thumping from below,” I said. “I only wanted to know what it was.”
    “Did you think it was the ghost, miss?” asked a girl nearer to me.
    “Well, no …”
    “You’ll not find ghosts up here,” said the first girl. “We never did nothing to Ella ’cause she was one of us. She’d never haunt us, miss.” The child looked down, no longer bold. “We don’t want demerits. Please don’t wake Miss Thompson.”
    Though I hardly knew her, Lucinda Thompson was widely understood to be very strict. Her room must have been at the far end of the east wing if she’d not already been woken by the music below. I had no desire to wake her. I did wish, however, to know more about these primaries who danced by lamplight. More than anything I wished they’d go on dancing, but the music had stopped.
    I looked to the dancer who’d first spoken. “What is your name?”
    “It’s Mae, miss.”
    “Can I visit again