Lauren Oliver - Delirium

LAUREN OLIVER is the author of BEFORE I FALL, which ALA Booklist called a compelling book with a powerful message that should not be missed. A graduate of the University of Chicago and the MFA program at New York University, Lauren is now a full-time writer and lives in Brooklyn, New York. DELIRIUM is her second novel. You can visit her online at www.laurenoliverbooks.com.

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To my wonderfully patient and attentive editor, Rosemary Brosnan, who is part mentor, part taskmaster, part therapist, and all friend.

To Elyse Marshall, publicist extraordinaire, for the immensity of her support.

To the best agent in the world, Stephen Barbara, for putting up with me (I dont know how you do it).

To everyone at Foundry Literary + Media, in particular Hannah Gordon and Stephanie Abou.

To Deirdre Fulton, for letting me stay for an entire summer while researching this book.

To Arabica Coffee House in Portland, Maine, for the deliciousness of your coffee and toast and the proliferation of your electrical outlets.

To Allison Jones, for her enthusiasm, advocacy, and general loveliness, and for single-handedly hand-selling Before I Fall to the entirety of Williamsburg, Virginia.

To my aunt Sandy, for years of constant love and support.

To all of my lovely blogger friends and fans, for making what I do worthwhile.

To my family, as always, for loving me.

And to my friends, of course, for being like family.

BEFORE I FALL

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The most dangerous sicknesses are those that
make us believe we are well.

Proverb 42 , The Book of Shhh

I t has been sixty-four years since the president and the Consortium identified love as a disease, and forty-three since the scientists perfected a cure. Everyone else in my family has had the procedure already. My older sister, Rachel, has been disease free for nine years now. Shes been safe from love for so long, she says she cant even remember its symptoms. Im scheduled to have my procedure in exactly ninety-five days, on September 3. My birthday.

Many people are afraid of the procedure. Some people even resist. But Im not afraid. I cant wait. I would have it done tomorrow, if I could, but you have to be at least eighteen, sometimes a little older, before the scientists will cure you. Otherwise the procedure wont work correctly: People end up with brain damage, partial paralysis, blindness, or worse.

I dont like to think that Im still walking around with the disease running through my blood. Sometimes I swear I can feel it writhing in my veins like something spoiled, like sour milk. It makes me feel dirty. It reminds me of children throwing tantrums. It reminds me of resistance, of diseased girls dragging their nails on the pavement, tearing out their hair, their mouths dripping spit.

And of course it reminds me of my mother.

After the procedure I will be happy and safe forever. Thats what everybody says, the scientists and my sister and Aunt Carol. I will have the procedure and then Ill be paired with a boy the evaluators choose for me. In a few years, well get married. Recently Ive started having dreams about my wedding. In them Im standing under a white canopy with flowers in my hair. Im holding hands with someone, but whenever I turn to look at him his face blurs, like a camera losing focus, and I cant make out any features. But his hands are cool and dry, and my heart is beating steadily in my chestand in my dream I know it will always beat out that same rhythm, not skip or jump or swirl or go faster, just womp, womp, womp , until Im dead.

Safe, and free from pain.

Things werent always as good as they are now. In school we learned that in the old days, the dark days, people didnt realize how deadly a disease love was. For a long time they even viewed it as a good thing, something to be celebrated and pursued. Of course thats one of the reasons its so dangerous: It affects your mind so that you cannot think clearly, or make rational decisions about your own well-being . (Thats symptom number twelve, listed in the amor deliria nervosa section of the twelfth edition of The Safety, Health, and Happiness Handbook, or The Book of Shhh , as we call it.) Instead people back then named other diseasesstress, heart disease, anxiety, depression, hypertension, insomnia, bipolar disordernever realizing that these were, in fact, only symptoms that in the majority of cases could be traced back to the effects of amor deliria nervosa.

Of course we arent yet totally free from the deliria in the United States. Until the procedure has been perfected, until it has been made safe for the under-eighteens, we will never be totally protected. It still moves around us with invisible, sweeping tentacles, choking us. Ive seen countless uncureds dragged to their procedures, so racked and ravaged by love that they would rather tear their eyes out, or try to impale themselves on the barbed-wire fences outside of the laboratories, than be without it.

Several years ago on the day of her procedure, one girl managed to slip from her restraints and find her way to the laboratory roof. She dropped quickly, without screaming. For days afterward, they broadcast the image of the dead girls face on television to remind us of the dangers of the deliria . Her eyes were open and her neck was twisted at an unnatural angle, but from the way her cheek was resting against the pavement you might otherwise think she had lain down to take a nap. Surprisingly, there was very little bloodjust a small dark trickle at the corners of her mouth.

Ninety-five days, and then Ill be safe. Im nervous, of course. I wonder whether the procedure will hurt. I want to get it over with. Its hard to be patient. Its hard not to be afraid while Im still uncured, though so far the deliria hasnt touched me yet.

Still, I worry. They say that in the old days, love drove people to madness. Thats bad enough. The Book of Shhh also tells stories of those who died because of love lost or never found, which is what terrifies me the most.

The deadliest of all deadly things: It kills you both when you have it and when you dont.

We must be constantly on guard against the Disease;
the health of our nation, our people, our families,
and our minds depends on constant vigilance.

Basic Health Measures, The Safety, Health, and Happiness Handbook, 12th edition

T he smell of oranges has always reminded me of funerals. On the morning of my evaluation it is the smell that wakes me up. I look at the clock on the bedside table. Its six oclock.

The light is gray, the sunlight just strengthening along the walls of the bedroom I share with both of my cousin Marcias children. Grace, the younger one, is crouched on her twin bed, already dressed, watching me. She has a whole orange in one hand. She is trying to gnaw on it, like an apple, with her little-kid teeth. My stomach twists, and I have to close my eyes again to keep from remembering the hot, scratchy dress I was forced to wear when my mother died; to keep from remembering the murmur of voices, a large, rough hand passing me orange after orange to suck on, so I would stay quiet. At the funeral I ate four oranges, section by section, and when I was left with only a pile of peelings heaped on my lap I began to suck on those, the bitter taste of the pith helping to keep the tears away.