The Unwanted by John Saul Page B

it a low building that she knew must be the gymnasium, since it faced a playing field that covered the rest of the block on which the school sat.
    There couldn’t be more than a couple hundred students in the whole school, she thought, and turned to Eric nervously. “How many kids are there in our grade?”
    “Fifty-three,” Eric replied. “Fifty-four, including you.”
    Cassie frowned. “And everyone knows everyone else, don’t they?” she asked, her voice reflecting her sudden nervousness.
    “Sure they do. We all grew up together.”
    “What … what if they don’t like me?”
    Eric looked at Cassie curiously. “Why wouldn’t they like you? There’s nothing wrong with you, is there?”
    Cassie hesitated, then shook her head. “But I’m new. And at home whenever someone new came in, everyone … well, everyone just sort of ignored them at first. You know what I mean?”
    Eric shrugged. “I guess. But nobody’s going to ignore you. I know everyone, and I’ll introduce you around. Who’s your homeroom teacher?”
    “I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to go to the principal’s office to find out.”
    “Right. It’s on the main floor, on the left. There’s only two classes in our grade, so if you’re not in my homeroom, I’ll see you at lunch. Okay?”
    Cassie nodded, and started up the steps toward the front doors of the school, threading her way through the groups of students chattering among themselves before their first classes began. As she passed among them, they all fell silent around her, as if her very presence had silenced them. Then she stopped, her back tingling once again with the eerie sensation of eyes watching her. The memory of the crowd in front of the church the day before was still fresh in her mind, and when Cassie turned, she wasn’t surprised to see the same blond girl staring once again, her angry eyes fixed coldly on her. She was a little smaller than Cassie. When Cassie met her gaze, the other girl quickly looked away, then moved over to Eric Cavanaugh, and slipped her arm through his.
    Suddenly Cassie thought she understood. The other girl must be Eric’s girlfriend, and she must have thought Cassie was trying to cut in on her. But before she could go over and say anything, the first bell rang and the students on the stepsbegan pushing through the front doors. Eric, with the blond girl still clinging to his arm, disappeared into the building.
    When Cassie entered the principal’s office a few minutes later, a friendly looking woman of about forty peered up at her over the tops of horned-rimmed half glasses and smiled cheerfully.
    “Good morning. I’m Patsy Malone, and you must be Cassandra Winslow.”
    Cassie’s head bobbed. “H-how did you know?”
    “You’re the only new face I’ve seen in seven months,” the woman replied. “Besides, your stepmother called us last week. You can go right on in—Mrs. Ambler is waiting for you.”
    For the first time, Cassie noticed the door to an adjoining office; CHARLOTTE AMBLER was neatly stenciled onto the opaque glass set into its upper half. She hesitated, then twisted the knob without knocking. As she slipped inside, though, she could feel Patsy Malone still watching her.
    Charlotte Ambler looked up from the papers on her desk, then removed her reading glasses and let them drop. They were fastened to her neck with a heavy gold chain, which was the only jewelry she ever wore. The glasses came to rest on her ample bosom; she had grown so used to having them there that she rarely noticed them anymore, sometimes searching her desk for several minutes before she remembered where to find them. Once, to her chagrin, her secretary had caught her unconsciously putting the glasses on in an effort to make the search for them easier. Though the secretary had said nothing, Mrs. Ambler noted that she was unable to keep from grinning. The next day she’d brought an extra pair of glasses to her office. “So I’ll have something to