Yvonne Woon - Dead Beautiful

CHAPTER 3
The Awakening

H ER NAME WAS CASSANDRA MILLET. THAT WAS all I was able to find out about Eleanors old roommate before we were interrupted by the chiming of church bells. Eleanor suddenly looked distraught. Is it six oclock already? We have to go!

Go where?

Fall Awakening, of course. Come on, were late.

Wait, but whats Fall Awakening?

Instead of answering, Eleanor grabbed a cardigan. I did the same, and she took me by the elbow and rushed me out the door.

We walked briskly through campus, past Verning Theater, a massive stone building with Greek columns lining the front; past Horace Hall, made of red brick, with tall darkened windows that gaped vacantly into the mountains. I could barely make out the engraving over its entrance: COGITO ERGO SUM . Thats where our classes are, Eleanor explained. Finally, we passed the Observatory, a stone tower in the middle of campus that doubled as an astronomy lookout and science laboratory. It was almost sunset when we reached the green. A low murmur of voices filled the air, and we walked toward them until we reached the clearing.

The trees grew thicker at the center of campus, enclosing the lawn in a semicircle of oaks and evergreens. Above them, the darkening sky was scratched open, bleeding bright streaks of red and orange. In the distance was the chapel, its bells still swaying.

This, Eleanor said, is Fall Awakening.

The students were divided into four sections, one for each year, she explained. Everyone was already seated on long wooden benches that lined the outskirts of the lawn in the shape of a U. The first row of each section was empty. Eleanor was already squeezing her way onto a bench in the sophomore section. I followed her, but when she saw me take a seat beside her, she shook her head.

Its supposed to be alphabetical, she explained. Which means you should be in the back with the rest of the Ws....

We both turned to look at the back row. The only space left was on the far side, in between a scrawny blond boy with thick-rimmed glasses and a plump girl with frizzy brown hair who did not look very friendly.

Oh right. Okay. I hesitated before standing up, studying the blond boy in the back, who seemed to be counting something that no one else could see. Who is that?

Eleanor ignored my question. But since the guy who sits next to me isnt here, I doubt anyone will notice if you stay, she said just as I was about to leave. Youre way better company. Ive tried to make conversation, but he barely acknowledges me. Sometimes I think he doesnt even notice that Im sitting next to him. Hes like that with everyone. He even stopped hanging out with his friends, and now just does everything alone. Hes sort of like this social outcast, except that everyone is secretly obsessed with him.

Obsessed? What do you mean? I thought you said he didnt talk to anyone.

He doesnt. The thing is hes beautiful. Hes this rugged, devastatingly gorgeous guy who has inexplicably chosen a life of solitude. And hes brilliant. Some Latin prodigy or something. Most people here cant decide if they love him, hate him, or are scared of him. For most people its all three. Especially my brother. Brandon hates it when I talk about him, which is sort of weird because I dont think theyve spoken even once.

Who is he?

Eleanor lowered her voice, the name rolling off her tongue like a dark secret. Dante Berlin.

I laughed. Dante? Like the Dante who wrote the Inferno ? Did he pick that name just to help cultivate his dark and mysterious persona?

Eleanor shook her head in disapproval. Just wait till you see him. You wont be laughing then.

I rolled my eyes. I bet his real name is something boring like Eugene or Dwayne.

I expected Eleanor to laugh or say something in return, but instead she gave me a concerned look. I ignored it.

He sounds like a snob to me. I bet hes one of those guys who know theyre good-looking. He probably hasnt even read the Inferno. Its easy to pretend youre smart when you dont talk to anyone.

Eleanor still didnt respond. Shh she muttered under her breath.

But before I could say What? I heard a cough behind me. Oh God, I thought to myself, and slowly turned around.

Hi, he said with a half grin that seemed to be mocking me.

And thats how I met Dante Berlin.

So how do you describe someone who leaves you speechless?

He was beautiful. Not Monet beautiful or white sandy beach beautiful or even Grand Canyon beautiful. It was both more overwhelming and more delicate. Like gazing into the night sky and feeling incredibly small in comparison. Like holding a shell in your hand and wondering how nature was able to make something so complex yet so perfect: his eyes, dark and pensive; his messy brown hair tucked behind one ear; his arms, strong and lean beneath the cuffs of his collared shirt.

I wanted to say something witty or charming, but all I could muster up was a timid Hi.

He studied me with what looked like a mix of disgust and curiosity.

You must be Eugene, I said.

I am. He smiled, then leaned in and added, I hope I can trust you to keep my true identity a secret. A name like Eugene could do real damage to my mysterious persona.

I blushed at the sound of my words coming from his lips. He didnt seem anything like the person Eleanor had described.

And you are

Rene, I interjected.

I was going to say, in my seat, but Rene will do.

My face went red. Oh, right. Sorry.

Rene like the philosopher Ren Descartes? How esoteric of you. No wonder you think you know everything. You probably picked that name just to cultivate your overly analytical persona.

I glared at him. I knew he was just dishing back my own insults, but it still stung. Well, it was nice meeting you, I said curtly, and pushed past him before he could respond, waving a quick good-bye to Eleanor, who looked too stunned to move.

I turned and walked to the last row, using all of my self-control to resist looking back.

Sorry, I said as I squeezed through the row at the end of the alphabet, stepping over feet and pushing past knees. I stopped in front of the blond boy Id seen from up front. He looked up at me through his glasses, then quickly averted his eyes, as if he had done something wrong.

Is this W ? I asked.

It took a few seconds for him to realize I was speaking to him. Finally he nodded. Welch, like the juice, he said, referring to himself, and Wurst, he said, lowering his voice to a whisper as he pointed to the girl to his left, like the sausage.

I let out a surprised laugh. Im Rene. Winters, like the season, I said, and sat down next to him.

He was a shrimp of a person, and blond all the way down to his eyelashes. He had inordinately skinny arms and looked like hed spent the majority of his life in his parents basement playing video games. Yet still, there was something strangely interesting about him. I tried to place it. Was it the fact that he hadnt blinked since wed started talking, or the way he leaned a little too close when he spoke? No, it was something more.

Im Nathaniel. I mean, thats my first name. He adjusted his glasses. His shaggy hair looked like it hadnt been washed or brushed in days, and his skin was as pasty as waxed paper, save for a collection of blemishes on his chin and forehead.

I smiled. Got it.

Youre new here, right?

I nodded.

Me too. Well, I was last year. Im not new anymore.

A hush fell over the crowd. From the back, a line of people filed onto the lawn.

Those are the professors, Nathaniel said.

They walked stiffly and all wore the same blue-and-gold scarf around their necks. The frayed ends dangled loosely above their waists as they took their seats in the front row.

At the center of the lawn was an ancient oak tree. Its gnarled trunk was so thick that it looked as if three trees had twisted themselves into one. Draped over its branches were two flags. They were deep blue, and bore a constellation of a bear and the Gottfried crest of arms in yellow stitching. A small podium stood between them.