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GETTING OUT OF NEVERMORE WAS LIKE ESCAPING ALCATRAZ. Principal Weems had a strict policy that no Nevermore student was allowed to go into Jericho unsupervised. Before her fall from grace, Alora had obtained the privilege to roam free Jericho on her own -- a privilege she had earned from saving the mayor's son from drowning three years ago. Granted, she was the one who put him there but what they didn't know, didn't hurt. Since Saylor's death, Alora was forbidden from the town, now considered a dangerous and unpredictable person. Alora wouldn't even try to argue with that.
Saylor begged Alora to come with her. As much as Alora wanted her best friend there, she couldn't afford any distractions. She had to be on high alert and having Saylor in her hear was a hazard. Alora denied her the request and Saylor spent the day sulking in Alora's bedroom.
To get out of Nevermore, Alora had to illusion the gargoyles. You wouldn't think you would have to play with the minds of stone statues but at Nevermore, the entire building is on Weems side. Each gargoyle is currently living in a loop of their greatest fantasies. It would take them a while to realise it was fake and when they did it would be too late. Alora then had to climb the waterpipe down the back of the building, illusion the groundskeeper and his rabid bloodhounds and escape through the broken fence behind the beehive.
Alora had arrived early. Weathervane was barely full -- not that there were many people in Jericho to begin with. There were approximately five groups of people occupying the cafe excluding the staff. That left enough tables for Alora to swap and change and decide which was the most comfortable. Originally, she sat in a booth facing the door, so she could watch her mystery guest walk in. But with every person that walked in and didn't come and sit with her, she got more and more agitated. She moved to a different seat with her back to the door. She continued to people watch through the window, but it made her less paranoid if she wasn't watching the door.
Alora ordered a black coffee which was taking alarmingly too longer to reach her table. She wondered if she had already scared off the locals and maybe the barista was too intimated by her crossed arms and murderous eyes outlined in black eyeliner. Thankfully for him, a barista proved her wrong and brought her coffee. The liquid sloshed in his hands, and he set it down with the politest smile he could muster. Alora didn't so much as blink as he set down the cup. After delivering her beverage, he didn't move. That caught Alora's attention. "So, they let a Nevermore kid out, huh?"
Alora tore her gaze from the window to the barista, her eyes still angry and murderous. Any sane person would've back away. Her barista was young, basically her age. He had the simple town look about him that wouldn't be caught dead at Nevermore. He was tall and slim, and his hair was an ashy brown which Alora thought was pleasant. She refused to respond to him and stared directly into her eyes. She wanted to see how long he could last. The boy spoke again, shifting slightly under her stare. "Sorry, it's just we don't get a lot of your kind here."
