To the casual observer, Winsbury Place might have seemed like any other residential block. On closer inspection of the modest facade of converted Georgian townhouses, however, the observer might just notice the simple brass plaque aside the front door that read “The Winsbury School of Parapsychology.”

Jessa cautiously approached her new school, letting the quick-stepping and going-places adults zip past her with their newspapers and morning beverages in disposable cups. Older students took advantage of the remaining fifteen minutes before the first bell, lingering in groups on the pavement, or opposite the school in Winsbury Square Park.

Jessa felt a gross flutter in her stomach, and a brush of air as others hurried past her in the foyer. A middle-aged lady teetered over and thrust her round red face close to Jessa’s.

“First year?” she squawked. Her breath smelled like coffee.

“Yes, miss.”

“Wonderful! Welcome!” Her dangly earrings bobbed around as she spoke. “My name’s Mrs Hoopey, and I’m the deputy headteacher. We’re so very thrilled to welcome you to Winsbury. Here’s your welcome pack. Trot along to the cafeteria, now. Help yourself to a snack and a drink, and settle down to make some wonderful new friends and some fabulous memories.”

An involuntary gulp caught in Jessa’s throat at the mention of new friends. She was the only parapsych from her middle school who had been accepted to Winsbury, and she was immediately envious of her old friends starting at high school together.