When Willie arrives in Indian Territory, she knows only one thing: no one can find out who she really is. To escape a home she doesn't belong in, she assumes the name of a former classmate and accepts a teaching position at the Cherokee Female Seminary.
Nothing prepares her for what she finds. Her pupils are the daughters of the Cherokee eliteeducated and more wealthy than sheand the school is cloaked in mystery. A student drowned in the river last year, and the girls whisper that she was killed by a jealous lover. Willie's room is the very room the dead girl slept in. The students say her spirit haunts it.
Willie doesn't believe in ghosts, but when strange things start happening at the school, she isn't sure anymore. She's also not sure what to make of a boy from the nearby boys' school who has taken an interest in herand whose past is cloaked in secrets. Soon, even Willie has to admit that the revenant may be trying to tell her something. . . .
|Publisher:||Random House Children's Books|
|Product dimensions:||5.58(w) x 8.56(h) x 1.22(d)|
|Age Range:||12 Years|
About the Author
SONIA GENSLER grew up in a small Tennessee town and spent her early adulthood collecting impractical degrees from various Midwestern universities. A former high school English teacher, she now writes full-time in Oklahoma. The Revenant is her first novel.
Read an Excerpt
I thought by the time I’d transferred to the Kansas and Arkansas Valley Railway, this foolish tendency to jump at every sound, to blush each time someone looked me in the eye, would have subsided. If Papa had been sitting next to me, he’d have patted my hand, his mustache curving into a smile. “All the world’s a stage, Willie,” he’d have said, “and you’re playing your part out of necessity, as have many before you.”
But Papa was dead, and the space next to me was empty. Staring at that void, I knew in my heart I was something much worse than a player on the world’s stage. And more than the summer heat made the perspiration trickle down the back of my neck. I jumped and blushed and perspired for good reason.
I was a liar and a thief.
The conductor called all passengers aboard, and I breathed a sigh of relief. But before I had time to celebrate my solitude, a young man bounded up the steps of my car and slid into the opposite seat. I stiffened, bracing myself for the prying questions strangers asked so freely of young ladies traveling alone. But he only removed his hat and, with a quick nod to me, slumped against the window with his eyes closed. The train jerked into motion with a great metallic screech, but even this did not rouse him. Grateful, I turned back to the window and studied what I could of Van Buren, Arkansas, branding my memory with details of the landscape before we entered Indian Territory.
What had I expected to find outside the train windows when we’d crossed the Arkansas border? Men with crow-black hair riding painted ponies and throwing spears at buffalo? Women in buckskin tending the fires outside their tepees? I knew it could not be so wild or so quaint as the stories I’d read, but I’d expected something . . . else. I never expected to find the terrain so familiar. The trees weren’t quite as tall here, but otherwise we might as well have been traveling through Tennessee, what with the densely wooded hills and crisscrossing rivers. It should have been comforting to me, this familiarity, but instead it made my heart ache and I had to turn away from the window.
More than an hour had passed, and yet the young man across from me slept on, his mouth hanging open slightly. Something about him reminded me of Papa after a night cozying up to his whiskey bottle. No doubt he’d spent the previous evening carousing with gentleman friends. He was a gentleman, I felt sure. His clothes were much finer than mine—they fit his rangy frame as though tailored rather than ready-made. A barber had trimmed his smooth brown hair, and though his tanned cheeks were covered in stubble, the skin itself looked accustomed to careful tending. I studied his face, noting his strong features and handsome cheekbones. Papa would have deemed it a good face for the stage. “Some folks,” he often said, “have delicate features that seem pleasing up close but look mushy from a distance. An actor needs bold features and sharp angles to his face. The audience needs something for the eye to grab hold of.”
The face across from me would have made a fine Cassio, I thought, with those handsome features slack with fatigue after a wild night. Or perhaps a Demetrius—there’d been a haughty quality to the young man’s bearing when he leapt upon the train and sat down without the merest “How do ye do.” But not a Hamlet. There was nothing tortured about his face, no inner turmoil written there.
At that moment, he opened his eyes and looked directly at me. His mouth curved.
Then he winked.
I turned my head to the window so quickly that my neck bones nearly cracked. My cheeks flushed with heat. Such an impish sparkle to his eye! He must have thought me quite common to stare so openly. Surely he would think it an invitation to pry and flirt.
But he said nothing. When I risked a peek at him, he seemed to be asleep once more. My toes tingled with a longing to kick him. He could have at least shown me the courtesy of being aware I was ignoring him.
Two more hours dragged on, and the champion sleeper barely stirred. When we reached Gibson Station, I leapt to my feet as soon as we came to a stop, heaved my bag off the floor, and headed for the door without a backward glance. But once outside, no one would meet my gaze long enough for me to ask directions. The letter had provided no details about this part of the journey, and I was overwhelmed again by the brazenness of my scheme. I stood alone as the press of people continued past me.
A sudden and powerful gust of wind tore the hat from my head. I whipped around to follow its flight through the air until it fell at the feet of . . . the smirking young man. He reached down, catching it before the wind tossed it again. My heart sank to see him hold the crumpled thing in both hands.
His eyes met mine. “Miss?”
I wanted to turn my back to him, but he held the only hat I owned.
“Yes?” I gripped the pinned coil of my hair as the wind gusted again.
“Pardon me,” he said, “but are you on your way to the female seminary in Tahlequah?”
I blinked. “How did you know?”
He smiled, though gently this time. “You look the scholarly type.” He pointed past the platform. “You’ll find the stagecoach just beyond the station house. It will take you to the school. There’ll be other young ladies from this train heading the same way. May I help you with your bag?”
“Thank you, no,” I said quickly, reclaiming the offered hat. “It’s not terribly heavy.” His brown eyes were warm and no longer impish. I stifled the urge to say more, for fear of speaking foolishness.
“I wish you good day, then.” He tipped his own hat and turned away, strolling easily and not looking back. I set the bag down to pin the hat more securely to my head. Then I slipped my fingers into my purse to count the few remaining coins, praying they would be enough to cover this final leg of the journey.
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Wille is someone we can all relate to; feeling we don't belong at home, wanting to bury our past deep down inside, and feeling head over heels in love with someone we shouldn't be. I mean,really: who hasn't been there?
A well-written, engaging young-adult historical novel. Native American history, ghosts, mystery, 1890s teen angst -- this is an entertaining read. Though I don't read YA very often, I look forward to future books by this author.
Mixing genres can be a risky business, but Sonia Gensler proves she is a master literary chef with her debut novel, The Revenant - a sweeping historic thriller, with elements of your classic ghost story and Victorian romance. The Revenant tells the story of 17-year-old Willie, who runs away from a home she can't fit in with, and assumes a stolen identity to become a teacher at the Cherokee Female Seminary. But life in Indian Territory is not like anything Willie expected. She struggles to teach students who come from wealthier backgrounds than her own, while also fighting a growing attraction to one of the young men from the neighboring boys' school. Then there's the troubling matter of strange happenings that everyone else believes are linked to the ghost of a student who drowned in the river the year before. Willie's not so quick to believe in ghosts, but as more strange (and increasingly perilous) events begin to transpire, even she can't deny that something nefarious is at work. What struck me so much about The Revenant is how Gensler stays so true to her characters and the time period in which the story is set. As a modern reader, it's tempting to want your characters to just "go for it," but in a book that takes place in 1896, there are societal expectations that just can't be ignored. Gensler brilliantly stays true to the historical aspects of her setting, while at the same time building complex and dynamic relationships between her characters. She is a master of the Victorian courtship, and every stolen whisper and light touch of the hand is imbued with as much chemistry and sexual tension as that infamous "leg hitch" scene in Eclipse - so much so that you forget how chaste the interaction really is. Gensler also brilliantly weaves in the history of the Cherokee Seminary School without once sacrificing an element of the story. Little bits of fact are sewn into the text seamlessly, offering a world that is all the more vivid for her efforts. Willie's experiences simply wouldn't be the same without such a lush historic backdrop as the one Gensler provides. What's more, her characters are multi-faceted and engaging. Not only does Willie have an intriguing story, but so does Eli - that mysterious young man from the boys' school; Dr. Stewart, the charming young widower; Olivia, Willie's fellow teacher and confidant; and even Fannie, the student who seems out to get her teacher at any cost. Not one character falls into the trappings of caricature or stereotype. In truth, Gensler could easily write a library of companion novels to The Revenant, each one chronicling the stories of these other interesting characters.
Based on Indian Territory during the late 1800's, THE REVENANT brings mystery and ghostly suspense to the forefront. The setting is unique but has the familiar school setting of clique's and local gossip. The strange incidents shrouded in mystery kept me turning the pages to see what dark secrets would be uncovered behind the walls of the Seminary. Willie, although brash and full of misconceptions at times, is finding out all about the Cherokee culture first hand. Their belief in spirits or ghosts is shrugged off by Willie as idiocy. Soon, Willie has no choice to rethink the tales surrounding the death of a student whom maybe haunting the school - especially after constant sleepless nights consisting of strange sounds and violent incidents involving students. There were quite a few things I enjoyed about this book. First, Willie's defiance to start a new life under the pretense of lies was enough to keep me wondering if her scam would be exposed. Her fondness for Eli Sevenstar also provided a spark of forbidden romance that kept me wanting more. Finally, the secrets surrounding the haunting death of a student was enough to keep me turning the pages. THE REVENANT is spooky and entertaining read! This book is another ghostly page turner that you can sink your teeth into. With its lush setting and historical intrigue, I recommend this book to fans of historical fiction who wouldn't mind a dose of paranormal on the side.