Dead Beautiful
Page 93

My past self was standing in front of me, saying something about the Board of Monitors and the headmistress, but I wasn’t listening; I already knew what she was going to say. Instead, I stared at her with an affection and longing that I could never have felt toward myself. I wasn’t reliving my life; I was reliving Dante’s.
“I’ve always liked you the way you are, and still do.” I said to my former self. The scene faded away, and I was transported to a darkened classroom in Horace Hall. I was standing in the shadows, water dripping from my clothes. The old Renée was beside me, her clothes matted to her body.
“Well, as your teacher, I should make you write lines,” I found myself saying.
The old Renée gave me a challenging look. A droplet of water inched down her nose. “What do you want me to write?”
I took a step toward her. “Cupido,” I uttered.
She raised her hand to my face, and I closed my eyes, feeling the softness of her palm. As she passed her hand over me, it awakened senses I hadn’t felt in years. My nose, my eyes, my lips, they trembled at her touch.
“Do you feel different when you’re around me?” she whispered.
Yes, I thought. Yes.
The room became blurry, and I was transported to the Observatory. It was a different day, an older day, and the September sun was shining through the glass panes of the ceiling. The door opened, and Nathaniel walked in, a younger version of Renée next to him. Her hair was shorter, and she looked more innocent, her face still sun-kissed from the summer.
I sat down next to her, feeling her presence like a force beside me. I didn’t know what to say, so I looked at the board. Something strange was happening to my body. A prickling sensation came over me, and I could actually feel the breeze floating through the window. I could hear the nuances of nature—the leaves of the trees rustling against each other, the delicate sound of sparrows on the branches, all mixing together like some sort of melody. Renée bent over to pull a notebook out of her bag, and I could even make out the smell of her shampoo. Finally she turned to me.
“Why do you keep staring at me?” she muttered under her breath.
Her voice was soft and low, and I was surprised by how forthright she was. How could I not stare at her? Even here, the afternoon sun shone through the glass ceiling, illuminating her face in a warm, rosy light, as if she were an otherworldly being, something sent to me by fate. No, she could never know that I had watched her, wanted her, loved her, from that very moment.
“You have pen on your face. Here.” Immediately I regretted saying it.
Her face turned red as she rubbed her face selfconsciously. “Oh.”
Suddenly the scene fast-forwarded. “So you think I’m charming?” I said, leaning over because I wanted to get closer to Renée. “Is that why you keep staring at me?”
“Alarming, not charming. And no, I’m just curious.”
“Curious?” I said, trying to control my desire to hold her, to kiss her.
Her voice wavered. “Why don’t you talk to anyone?”
“I thought that’s what we were doing.”
She was saying something, but I barely heard her.
Dozens of thoughts ran through my mind. Where did she come from? Where had she been my entire life? What did she like and what did she hate? Would she let me learn? Instead I settled for something more reasonable. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
I traced my fingers around her freckles, wanting to collect them in my palm. She said she was from California.
I held out my hand beneath the desk. “I’m Dante.”
She bit her lip, doubting herself. “Renée,” she said finally, and slipped her hand into mine. It was small and delicate.
Her body froze as we touched. I felt her warmth creeping into me, giving me life again. Her expression shifted from nervous to confused to bewildered. I pulled my hand away from hers and sat very still, trying to understand what had just happened. Everything blurred to black.
Finally, the world came into focus again, and I was running down a long dirt driveway. I couldn’t control my legs and I didn’t know where I was. It was a place I had never been to before—a large field with a plywood fence surrounding it. The land was flat on either side and patched with yellow, overgrown grass. To the far left were a barn and a water trough, presumably for horses. Beyond that were other houses, all spread out over acres of land. They looked exactly the same as the house the driveway was leading toward. It was small and square, with a shingled roof and a wraparound porch littered with old lawn furniture. The rocking chair swayed in the wind.
Suddenly I was standing in the doorway of a bedroom in my house; no—Dante’s house. A girl was lying in bed, the frail outline of her legs visible beneath the sheets. I didn’t recognize her, but somehow I understood that she was my sister. Dante’s sister. The curtains were drawn and the room was dark.
I blinked, and I was in an airplane, cradling my sister, Cecelia, in my arms. She was wrapped in a blanket, her eyes tired and barely open, her face red and matted with sweat. “It will be okay,” I whispered to her. “We’re almost there.”
Sitting beside us were a man and a woman who I knew to be my parents even though I couldn’t recognize them. The man was wearing a flannel shirt and a pair of worker’s pants stained with grease. He had Dante’s eyes. The woman was wrapped in a shawl and leaning over Cecelia, petting her hair. She was crying.
All at once we heard something crack. The erratic swoosh of the propellers as they slowed. And then my father screaming as we plummeted to the ground, “I pray to thee, O true and living God. I believe in thee, O eternal Truth. My hopes are fixed on thee, thou endless Good and Mercy. I love thee with my whole heart above all things, O my kindest Father, my highest Good.”
The world became darker, and I was underwater. I knew that this was my last moment on earth. The waves were violent and I was sinking. Salt water stung my eyes and throat as I was flushed under. I tried to swim to the surface, but couldn’t. I opened my eyes. Everything around me was a foggy blue. Bubbles rose around me, swirling like schools of fish. I reached out, trying to catch them in my fist, and slowly, everything withered away.
I was pulled out of my reverie by two hands pushing me away. My body convulsed as I felt Dante leave me, his memories spooling out of me like a reel of film. Our lips parted, and I gasped.