Dead Beautiful
Page 14

I smiled. “Got it.”
“You’re new here, right?”
I nodded.
“Me too. Well, I was last year. I’m 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.
And then out of the darkness emerged the tallest woman I had ever seen, striding through the trees like the wisp of a ghost.
“That’s the headmistress, Calysta Von Laark,” said Nathaniel.
She stood at least six feet tall, with wavy white hair that was pinned loosely to the back of her head. She had blue eyes, large hands, and a slender figure that was slightly masculine in its proportions.
She walked to the podium and waited. The wind slowed, and everything was still.
“Students, faculty, welcome to another illustrious year at Gottfried Academy.” Her voice was low and velvety as it echoed off the buildings surrounding the lawn.
“I hope that you all had an enlightening holiday and were able to use the time away from your studies to wade in the warm waters of everything that summer has to offer. To our new students, welcome. There is a complete list of school policies and procedures in the Gottfried Code of Discipline, which you received with your books and schedules. If you have any questions, I trust that our returning students will be able to aid you, as well as the dormitory parents, Mrs. Lynch and Professor Bliss.”
A man and woman from the front row stood up and waved.
“Here at the Academy, we believe that limitations challenge the mind. Gottfried has a series of regulations that we hope all of our students will abide by during their stay here. While this is slightly out of procedure, I would like to use this time to reiterate a few that are especially critical after the events that occurred last spring.”
A murmur floated over the benches. What happened last spring? I wondered, leaning over to ask Nathaniel.
“Someone died,” he whispered. “A first year named Benjamin Gallow.”
“What?” I asked. “How?”
But we were interrupted by the headmistress’s booming voice, as she recounted the rules.
“First: boys are never permitted to be in the girls’ dormitory, and vice versa. Second: leaving the school grounds is strictly prohibited and punishable by expulsion. And third” —the headmistress paused to brush a cluster of white hair away from her eyes—“under no exception is anyone allowed to enter into a romantic relationship of any nature at this academy.”
What? I glanced around me, incredulous that they would even think of banning dating. But no one else seemed fazed. The sun was setting behind the library. Almost simultaneously the lights in every building on campus went out, leaving us to the purpling twilight.
“And, of course, let me emphasize that there shall be no use of artificial light after sunset, with the exception of candles. In this world, darkness is always looming on the horizon. At Gottfried, instead of avoiding the dark, we meet it head on. As headmistress, I urge you to do the same with your studies and with every obstacle you face in the future. Do not accept the confines of the world as you perceive it. Instead, look for what you cannot see. There are universes among us, within us. Our only way out of darkness is to learn how to see without light.”
The crowd was silent. Crickets chirped lazily from the grass around us.
“And now, in the time-honored tradition of the great thinkers who came before us, let us cast away everything we know and attempt to see the world as it really is.”
The headmistress closed her eyes and bowed her head. Everyone followed, and I did the same. Then she began to speak in a language that was far different from anything I’d heard before. It started as a low murmur, and gradually grew into a chant. I opened an eye and tried to catch a glimpse of Dante, but all I could see was the back of his neck. It was a beautiful neck, smooth and lean beneath the collar of his shirt.
But my thoughts were interrupted by a voice tickling my ear. “Bring us death,” said Nathaniel, barely audible.
I gasped. “What?”
“That’s what she’s saying: ‘Bring us death so we can study it. To capture the mind of a child is to gain immortality.’” His voice cracked, and he swallowed self-consciously. “‘So that when we die, our minds live forever.’”
I stared at the headmistress. It seemed a little morbid for a high school motto. In my old school, the principal didn’t even give a welcome speech, let alone hold some bizarre nighttime ritual.
“It’s Latin,” Nathaniel said, pretending to keep his eyes closed like everyone else. “She’s saying that even though our bodies will die, our achievements will live on forever.”
“Shhh,” hissed a voice from the section across from us. A prim and preppy girl glared at us, then shut her eyes.
“That’s Genevieve Tart,” he said quietly. “She’s a junior. And she hates me.”
“Why would she hate you?” I asked.
“My presence annoys her.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“No, I can just tell. She barely speaks to me. And she thinks my name is Neil.”
“That’s ridiculous. How can you know she hates you if she doesn’t speak to you?” I asked in a strained whisper.
“Shhh!” Genevieve said again, this time to me.
Nathaniel stared at his feet. “See?”
Before I could respond, a boy from the farthest section of the benches stood up. He was tall and athletic, with a face strikingly like Eleanor’s. Her older brother, I realized.
He walked through the rows of his section with a military strut until he stopped behind a girl and tapped her on the shoulder. She was slender and rosy, with almond eyes and straight black hair.
Once tapped, she walked down the rows and tapped a short, bony boy, who made his way to the third-year benches and tapped a girl with freckles and red hair. She tapped a serious-looking boy who made his way to the back, directly toward me.