Dead Beautiful (6 page)

As the path narrowed, I passed a large grassy area surrounded by trees, which I guessed was the green. Just past it was the lake, wide and still, expanding across the entire upper half of campus. The buildings reflected off the water, changing and distorting in its ripples. At the head of the lake stood a life-size statue of a bear on all fours, its face arched up toward the sky.

The girls’ dormitory was made of a soft gray stone. Even from the outside it looked clean, as if it were made entirely of bars of soap. Across the lake stood an almost identical building that was made of a slightly darker stone. It was shaded by a collection of oak trees and seemed gloomier. A few boys were walking toward it.

Inside the girls’ dormitory, the heat was on and everything had the calm coloring of warm milk. A wide stone staircase led upstairs, and I skimmed my fingers across the surface of the banister as I ascended.

My room was large and sunny with high ceilings and a fireplace. The walls were a welcoming yellow, and the sweet smell of yeast and baking bread filled the room, reminding me of home. On the far wall were two large windows overlooking the lake and the green. My suitcases rested beneath them. I bent down to begin unpacking when a cool gust of northern air blew in, followed by the sound of rustling paper.

On the desk was a large rectangular parcel wrapped in brown paper.
RENÉE WINTERS,
it said in bold letters. Resting on top of it was a manual with the Gottfried crest embossed on the cover. I opened it.
Gottfried Academy Code of Discipline.
It was 157 pages long. How could there possibly be that many rules? I set it aside and tore open the parcel.

Inside was a stack of books:

Latinvs,
by Evangeline Rhine

Mythology and Rituals,
by Gander McPherson

Lost Numbers,
edited by J. L. Prouty & Linus Moss

Soil,
by Brenda Hardiman

Origins of Existence,
by Paul F. Dabney

Metaphysical Meditations,
by René Descartes

The Republic,
by Plato

Beneath them was a series of other books by Nietzsche, Aristophanes, Aristotle, and other names that I couldn’t pronounce.

Confused, I pulled out the envelope from my pocket. Inside was a sheet of paper labeled:
Second-Year Schedule: WINTERS.

Elementary Latin I

Ancient Civilization

Imaginary Arithmetic

Horticulture

Philosophy

The Arts

Crude Sciences

Horticulture? Imaginary Arithmetic? In California we studied normal things like English, Algebra, Biology, and languages that people actually spoke, like Spanish or French. What did Crude Sciences even mean?

I picked up
Mythology and Rituals,
which I assumed was my Ancient Civilizations textbook. Back in California, History had been my favorite subject. Out of my entire schedule, it was probably the only class I would really enjoy. But I guess I didn’t have a choice, which seemed to be a recurring theme in my life over the past few weeks.

The sound of footsteps broke my train of thought. They stopped in front of my door. Startled, I stood up and watched the knob turn and the door creak open.

A girl walked in, lugging two overstuffed duffel bags behind her. A mess of wavy blond hair was piled on top of her head, and her round cheeks were flushed from walking up the stairs. With a sigh, she let a bag drop from her shoulder. It fell to the ground with a thud.

“Who are you?” I asked, confused.

“Eleanor,” she said, fanning her face with her hand. “Eleanor Bell.”

She was carelessly pretty, with rosy skin and wisps of windblown hair framing her face in a way that made her look like she had just stepped off a private yacht in Nantucket.

“So why...what are you doing in my room?”

“What are you talking about?” she said, looking at me as if I were crazy. “I’m your roommate.”

“Oh.” I felt my face turn red. In my hurry to open the package, I hadn’t even noticed that there were two beds. I looked around the room more carefully and realized that it was true, there seemed to be two of everything: two desks, two chairs, two wardrobes, all divided by a fireplace. “They didn’t tell me I had a roommate.”

“They almost didn’t tell me either. My old roommate left Gottfried at the last minute, and I was set to have a huge single all to myself...until a few days ago.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry.”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. It’ll be fun. Besides, living by yourself can get lonely.” She looked at my legs and frowned. “You know you’re not in dress code.”

I glanced down at my shorts and then at her outfit. She was wearing an impossibly short wool skirt, a perfectly pressed white collared shirt, and black knee-highs. I imagined that her parents were the sort of people who owned horses and played tennis on the weekend after hosting large brunches on their waterfront estate. “And you are?”

Eleanor ignored my comment. “No denim or clothes with writing on them,” she recited. “Only skirts, collared shirts, and stockings. And if you want to wear pants, you have to wear a blazer.”

I rolled my eyes. What was the point in getting so dressed up for school? “Well, I think I look fine.”

Eleanor scoffed at me, sticking her button nose into the air. “You look fine for going to the beach. We’re at Gottfried Academy! One of the oldest and most competitive schools in the country. Do you know how many people would die to be in your position?”

I had never heard of Gottfried until my grandfather told me about it, and I definitely didn’t care how prestigious it was. I would have given anything to be back at my old school. “I guess it’s just hard moving away from my friends.” I unzipped one of the suitcases and then added, “I’m new here.”

“I know.” Eleanor hoisted one of her bags onto her bed. “That’s the first thing you need to understand about Gottfried—it’s small. Things have a way of being found out.” She untied her hair, letting thick blond locks fall around her shoulders. The smell of citrus and shampoo wafted through the room. “Which brings me to the second thing you need to know. The secrets that aren’t found out are buried well. And probably for a reason.”

I gave her a perfunctory nod, but thought she was being overly dramatic. I had been to high school; I knew how things worked, how people talked, how secrets were leaked.

Eleanor paused, and for a moment I thought she had finished and I could finally unpack in silence. But then she said, “For example, your name is Renée. You’re five foot four, you got straight A’s at Costa Rosa High, you’re a sophomore, like me, and you have an inclination for history and the social sciences. Your parents were teachers, but then they died and your grandfather sent you here. His name is”—she tried to remember—“Brownell Winters.”

Surprised, I looked up at her. “How did you—?”

“And now you’re here, probably thinking I’m some spoiled, self-centered trust-fund girl who’s obsessed with makeup and name brands and only got into Gottfried because my family has legacy here.”

“That is not true! That’s just... It’s not... I don’t think that about you.” The retort sounded cleverer in my head, but the worst part was that I probably would have thought all of those things if I’d had more time.

“It’s all right. Everyone thinks it. And maybe they’re not
totally
wrong. But I know that your family has legacy too. Which is why
you
got in. You didn’t even have to take that ridiculous admissions test. And even though you couldn’t have grown up rich—I mean, your parents were
teachers
—I know that you’re an only child. Which probably makes you more spoiled than me, because I have an older brother, and everyone knows that only children don’t know how to share.”

I gaped at her, torn between anger and confusion. How did she know all this? I wanted to ask if it was her family’s money that made her think she could talk to someone else that way, but all I managed to spit out was, “I know how to share.”

“I told you,” she said, reading my thoughts. “Things have a way of being found out here. My parents are divorced, so I don’t really see them. It happened a few years ago and was really messy. My mom got the house in Aspen, my dad got the house in Wyoming, and they’re still fighting over the rest.” She rolled her eyes. “Or their lawyers are. My parents can’t even stand being in the same state. So of course they couldn’t stop fighting about where we would live. Which is why my brother and I are here. That and the fact that practically our entire family has gone to Gottfried.” She smiled. “And now you know everything about me, in case you were wondering.” She looked into my open suitcase. “That’s a really cute skirt.”

I watched as she leaned over my personal belongings in all of her blond, rosy glory, completely unapologetic for who she was and where she came from.

“Thanks,” I said. “It was my mom’s.”

“She had great taste. Do you mind if I take a peek?” And without waiting for an answer, she bent down and sifted through the rest of the clothes in my suitcase. “You know, I’ve always had this fantasy of growing up in a normal family. A small, cozy house. My parents cooking pancakes for breakfast and borrowing eggs from the neighbors. Riding the bus to school. Oh, and of course I’d have to have a summer job. It’s so romantic. I could work as a waitress and wear an apron and everything.”

I gave her a confused look. “It’s really not that romantic. The bus was crowded and there was always gum stuck to the seats. And I would have killed to not have a summer job. But then I would never have met the guy I was dating. He asked me out at the farmers’ market where I worked.”

She looked up at me in awe. “See! It
is
romantic! Tell me everything.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. I had never met anyone who fantasized about having a crappy summer job or living in a small house.

“Let’s start over,” I said, and held out a hand. “My name is Renée.”

Eleanor smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.” She held up a tan shirt with ruffles on the collar. “This is so vintage. Do you mind if I borrow it? It would look great with my new skirt.”

I let out another laugh. “Sure. So how
did
you know all that stuff about me?”

“It wasn’t hard. My brother, Brandon, is on the Board of Monitors. He’s a senior, and practically the headmistress’s pet. When I found out I had a roommate, I asked him to look in your file and relay the details. He’s not supposed to, but he’d do anything for me.”

It didn’t sound that easy. Actually, it sounded like a lot of work for information that she could have just found out by asking me. I watched her go through the clothes in my suitcase, holding them up to her body.

“Eleanor, how come your old roommate didn’t come back this year?”

She gave me a mischievous smile, as if she had been waiting for me to ask. “Now that’s a question that’s not so easy to answer.”

CHAPTER 3
The Awakening

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

“Go where?”

“Fall Awakening, of course. Come on, we’re late.”

“Wait, but what’s 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
. “That’s 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.

“It’s supposed to be alphabetical,” she explained. “Which means you should be in the back with the rest of the W’s....”

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 isn’t here, I doubt anyone will notice if you stay,” she said just as I was about to leave. “You’re way better company. I’ve tried to make conversation, but he barely acknowledges me. Sometimes I think he doesn’t even notice that I’m sitting next to him. He’s like that with everyone. He even stopped hanging out with his friends, and now just does everything alone. He’s sort of like this social outcast, except that everyone is secretly obsessed with him.”