Dead Beautiful
Page 21
“We’ve learned from history that we are more efficient when we work together,” Professor Starking said. “Plato had Socrates, Galileo had Archimedes, Doctor Frankenstein had Igor.” He let out a chuckle, which degenerated into a fit of coughing.
“So,” he continued, clearing his throat, “everyone has been assigned a lab partner, who you’ll be working with for the entire semester.”
He began to read off names. Please, I thought, read my name with Dante’s. Please.
“Nathaniel Welch and Morgan Leicester.” Nathaniel shrugged and stood up.
“Greta Platt and Christian Treese. Paul McLadan and Maggie Hughes.
“Renée Winters and Dante Berlin.”
Surprised, my body went rigid. In California, I always seemed to be partners with Oily Jeremy, the boy with terrible body odor, or with Samantha Watson, who was only interested in talking about her nail polish. A chair scraped against the floor, and Dante walked across the room and took the empty seat next to me, his shoulder blades shifting underneath his shirt like tectonic plates as he leaned on the table.
After studying me for a few moments, he turned and faced the professor without even acknowledging me. Shocked by his rudeness and unsure of what to do, I turned my attention to the board and pretended to ignore him. We sat in silence until the professor finished calling off the names.
“The Laws of Attraction.” He approached the board.
His voice was drowned out by the noise of rustling paper.
“The First Law of Attraction states that attraction and repulsion are two sides of the same force.”
And as Professor Starking talked about physics and magnetism, I turned to Dante.
“Why do you keep staring at me?” I muttered under my breath.
He glanced around to make sure no one was listening and then leaned toward me. His voice was hushed. “You have pen on your face. Here,” he said, touching the space by his nose.
“Oh.” I felt my face go red as I wiped my cheek with my hand.
“That and you remind me of someone I know. Or once knew. But I can’t place who it is.”
“I thought you didn’t have any friends,” I challenged.
Dante smiled. “I don’t. Only enemies. Which doesn’t bode well for you, considering the fact that you must resemble one of them.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You know, you’re really good at compliments. Actually, it’s surprising that a person with charm like yours has any enemies.” The words came out before I could stop them. At this rate I would never be able to ask him about Benjamin Gallow, and it didn’t help that every time he looked at me I wanted to melt.
“So you think I’m charming?” Dante countered, mocking me. “Is that why you keep staring at me?”
“Alarming, not charming. And no, I’m just curious.”
“Curious?” Dante gave me a bemused look and leaned back, draping his arm over his chair. “About what?”
“Why don’t you talk to anyone?”
“I thought that’s what we were doing.”
“To anyone else.”
“Talking isn’t the only way to communicate. I speak when I have something to say.”
“Then you must be pretty boring, judging from what everyone says about you.”
Dante let out a laugh. “And what are they saying?”
“That you won’t talk to anyone at school because you think you’re superior.”
“And what if I am?”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re not. You just think you are.”
Dante smiled and leaned toward me. “So now you can read my thoughts?”
I swallowed. “No. I can just tell.”
“Really? What am I thinking now?” he said, lowering his eyes to mine.
It was difficult to act normal with him staring at me so closely, so intensely. My voice wavered. “You’re...you’re wondering where I’m from.”
Dante’s face softened. “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” he said, studying me. I wasn’t sure if he was joking.
“Somewhere green, I’d guess,” he continued. “With a lot of sun.”
“How do you figure that?”
Without touching me, he traced his fingers through the air along the top of my cheeks. “Freckles.”
I blushed. “California. And you...you’re from—?”
“Here and there,” he said, brushing off my question. “Nowhere, really.”
I gave him a suspicious look. What did that even mean? Though, admittedly, I couldn’t imagine him being from anywhere. He was too handsome, too mysterious to come from a place.
Before I could ask him another question, Dante continued. “So why did you come here? You don’t seem like the average Gottfried student.”
“Why?” I said, taking offense. “Because I don’t have a trust fund and a summer home?”
“Because you say what you think.”
“Oh,” I said, averting my eyes. “And people at Gottfried don’t?”
“Not like you did to me at the Awakening. Or to Mrs. Lynch this morning.”
I sighed. He saw that. “I’m not used to so many rules. My old school was more...laid back.”
“So your parents sent you here?”
I shook my head. “My grandfather. ..” my voice trailed off.
I felt Dante’s eyes on me, examining my face.
“Do you have parents?” I asked, before realizing how stupid a question it was. Everyone had parents.
Dante hesitated. “No, not really.”
“What do you mean not really?”
“Nothing,” he said. “It’s...just, never mind.”
I rested my chin in my hand, considering his aloofness. “What’s the big secret?”
“No secret,” he said with a smile. “Just nothing to tell.”
I gave him a coy frown. “Or nothing you want to tell.”
Around us, everyone was flipping through the pages in their textbooks as Professor Starking recited something about forces. I shuffled through the pages haphazardly, more aware of Dante’s presence next to me than the vectors in the book.
He gave me the beginnings of a smile. “Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. Can we start over?” He held his hand out beneath the desk. “I’m Dante,” he said.
“So,” he continued, clearing his throat, “everyone has been assigned a lab partner, who you’ll be working with for the entire semester.”
He began to read off names. Please, I thought, read my name with Dante’s. Please.
“Nathaniel Welch and Morgan Leicester.” Nathaniel shrugged and stood up.
“Greta Platt and Christian Treese. Paul McLadan and Maggie Hughes.
“Renée Winters and Dante Berlin.”
Surprised, my body went rigid. In California, I always seemed to be partners with Oily Jeremy, the boy with terrible body odor, or with Samantha Watson, who was only interested in talking about her nail polish. A chair scraped against the floor, and Dante walked across the room and took the empty seat next to me, his shoulder blades shifting underneath his shirt like tectonic plates as he leaned on the table.
After studying me for a few moments, he turned and faced the professor without even acknowledging me. Shocked by his rudeness and unsure of what to do, I turned my attention to the board and pretended to ignore him. We sat in silence until the professor finished calling off the names.
“The Laws of Attraction.” He approached the board.
His voice was drowned out by the noise of rustling paper.
“The First Law of Attraction states that attraction and repulsion are two sides of the same force.”
And as Professor Starking talked about physics and magnetism, I turned to Dante.
“Why do you keep staring at me?” I muttered under my breath.
He glanced around to make sure no one was listening and then leaned toward me. His voice was hushed. “You have pen on your face. Here,” he said, touching the space by his nose.
“Oh.” I felt my face go red as I wiped my cheek with my hand.
“That and you remind me of someone I know. Or once knew. But I can’t place who it is.”
“I thought you didn’t have any friends,” I challenged.
Dante smiled. “I don’t. Only enemies. Which doesn’t bode well for you, considering the fact that you must resemble one of them.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You know, you’re really good at compliments. Actually, it’s surprising that a person with charm like yours has any enemies.” The words came out before I could stop them. At this rate I would never be able to ask him about Benjamin Gallow, and it didn’t help that every time he looked at me I wanted to melt.
“So you think I’m charming?” Dante countered, mocking me. “Is that why you keep staring at me?”
“Alarming, not charming. And no, I’m just curious.”
“Curious?” Dante gave me a bemused look and leaned back, draping his arm over his chair. “About what?”
“Why don’t you talk to anyone?”
“I thought that’s what we were doing.”
“To anyone else.”
“Talking isn’t the only way to communicate. I speak when I have something to say.”
“Then you must be pretty boring, judging from what everyone says about you.”
Dante let out a laugh. “And what are they saying?”
“That you won’t talk to anyone at school because you think you’re superior.”
“And what if I am?”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re not. You just think you are.”
Dante smiled and leaned toward me. “So now you can read my thoughts?”
I swallowed. “No. I can just tell.”
“Really? What am I thinking now?” he said, lowering his eyes to mine.
It was difficult to act normal with him staring at me so closely, so intensely. My voice wavered. “You’re...you’re wondering where I’m from.”
Dante’s face softened. “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” he said, studying me. I wasn’t sure if he was joking.
“Somewhere green, I’d guess,” he continued. “With a lot of sun.”
“How do you figure that?”
Without touching me, he traced his fingers through the air along the top of my cheeks. “Freckles.”
I blushed. “California. And you...you’re from—?”
“Here and there,” he said, brushing off my question. “Nowhere, really.”
I gave him a suspicious look. What did that even mean? Though, admittedly, I couldn’t imagine him being from anywhere. He was too handsome, too mysterious to come from a place.
Before I could ask him another question, Dante continued. “So why did you come here? You don’t seem like the average Gottfried student.”
“Why?” I said, taking offense. “Because I don’t have a trust fund and a summer home?”
“Because you say what you think.”
“Oh,” I said, averting my eyes. “And people at Gottfried don’t?”
“Not like you did to me at the Awakening. Or to Mrs. Lynch this morning.”
I sighed. He saw that. “I’m not used to so many rules. My old school was more...laid back.”
“So your parents sent you here?”
I shook my head. “My grandfather. ..” my voice trailed off.
I felt Dante’s eyes on me, examining my face.
“Do you have parents?” I asked, before realizing how stupid a question it was. Everyone had parents.
Dante hesitated. “No, not really.”
“What do you mean not really?”
“Nothing,” he said. “It’s...just, never mind.”
I rested my chin in my hand, considering his aloofness. “What’s the big secret?”
“No secret,” he said with a smile. “Just nothing to tell.”
I gave him a coy frown. “Or nothing you want to tell.”
Around us, everyone was flipping through the pages in their textbooks as Professor Starking recited something about forces. I shuffled through the pages haphazardly, more aware of Dante’s presence next to me than the vectors in the book.
He gave me the beginnings of a smile. “Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. Can we start over?” He held his hand out beneath the desk. “I’m Dante,” he said.
