The Anathema Read Online Free Page A
Author: Zachary Rawlins
deserves and wants to live.
2.
Vivik wasn’t the kind of person to have many bad days. Nevertheless, today had been exceptionally good, even by his sunny standards.
At breakfast, for example, the cafeteria had French toast, which normally only happened on Tuesdays. He had two pieces himself, and then he finished one from Emily’s plate when she could not. Vivik loved French toast; plus, well, breakfast with Emily, right?
Even if Alex was there.
It wasn't as if he disliked Alex – actually, he considered him something of a friend. He was weirdly appealing, in a sleepy, distracted way. He had bouts of depression and bad moods, and he was particularly clueless about what not to say aloud, but Alex’s tendency to instantly, loudly despair in the face of adversity was actually somewhat endearing.
Then, of course, there was the whole thing with Emily. The situation wasn't strictly Alex's fault, but it remained a point of subtle contention between them.
Vivik had chemistry in the early afternoon, but the lecture was based on work with acids and bases that he had already done, so he was able to devote the two hours to his private scheme, all the while diligently taking notes on automatic pilot, in case. He spent an hour in the library, running down references for his pet project, and then returned to the cafeteria for lunch, where he settled for pasta and salad with Renton, who was, as always, funny in a mean way.
Vivik had enough time left to go back to the dorms and take a nap before calculus, which was exactly what he did. He couldn’t always sleep during the day, but this afternoon he got a solid forty-five minutes and went to class feeling energized and cheerful. The lecture was new to him, and he liked the teacher, Mr. Chan, a squat Taiwanese patriot with a heavy accent who often interrupted his class to denounce the mainland, so the time flew by. After class, he stayed late with his study group, going over equations and cracking jokes about comic books and Star Wars and Internet parody videos related to comic books and Star Wars. He left the classroom around six, satisfied that he had made it through an entire day, the third in a row, in fact, without anyone asking him about his sullen new friend. He practically skipped all the way to the dorm, dropped off his books, washed his face and rewrapped his hair, and changed out of his uniform and into jeans and a polo shirt. Vivik whistled tunelessly to himself as he walked to the cafeteria, hoping for spinach ravioli.
Instead, three lurkers waylaid him the moment he stepped out into the quad.
They smiled as they called him over, and they were friendly enough for Hegemony kids, but he already knew what they wanted before they had a chance to ask. It was a minute or two before they politely worked their way around to the question, breaking the longest streak he had run since winter break, and souring his day.
Of course, they wanted to know about Alex.
* * *
Renton was out-of-breath, but he tried to deliver his news anyway. Svetlana flitted annoyingly around him; patting him on the back, cooing, looking concerned, and generally making a spectacle of herself. Anastasia waved her away tersely, and then waited for Renton to stop wheezing long enough to explain what had him so excited. She popped up out of her chair when she heard his news, and even with heels and her hair up, she barely made it to Renton’s chest. When she started pacing, the black Weir in the heavy silver collar that had been dozing beneath her chair whined, sat up, and then followed her at a discreet distance.
“When did they get back? How did I not know about this?”
“They were just hanging around the quad, talking to Vivik,” Renton said, still a bit red in the face. “I don’t know when they got back, or how the precognitives could have missed it. I came here as soon as I saw them.”
Anastasia huffed, and then turned on her heel, pacing away from him, lost in thought.
“All
2.
Vivik wasn’t the kind of person to have many bad days. Nevertheless, today had been exceptionally good, even by his sunny standards.
At breakfast, for example, the cafeteria had French toast, which normally only happened on Tuesdays. He had two pieces himself, and then he finished one from Emily’s plate when she could not. Vivik loved French toast; plus, well, breakfast with Emily, right?
Even if Alex was there.
It wasn't as if he disliked Alex – actually, he considered him something of a friend. He was weirdly appealing, in a sleepy, distracted way. He had bouts of depression and bad moods, and he was particularly clueless about what not to say aloud, but Alex’s tendency to instantly, loudly despair in the face of adversity was actually somewhat endearing.
Then, of course, there was the whole thing with Emily. The situation wasn't strictly Alex's fault, but it remained a point of subtle contention between them.
Vivik had chemistry in the early afternoon, but the lecture was based on work with acids and bases that he had already done, so he was able to devote the two hours to his private scheme, all the while diligently taking notes on automatic pilot, in case. He spent an hour in the library, running down references for his pet project, and then returned to the cafeteria for lunch, where he settled for pasta and salad with Renton, who was, as always, funny in a mean way.
Vivik had enough time left to go back to the dorms and take a nap before calculus, which was exactly what he did. He couldn’t always sleep during the day, but this afternoon he got a solid forty-five minutes and went to class feeling energized and cheerful. The lecture was new to him, and he liked the teacher, Mr. Chan, a squat Taiwanese patriot with a heavy accent who often interrupted his class to denounce the mainland, so the time flew by. After class, he stayed late with his study group, going over equations and cracking jokes about comic books and Star Wars and Internet parody videos related to comic books and Star Wars. He left the classroom around six, satisfied that he had made it through an entire day, the third in a row, in fact, without anyone asking him about his sullen new friend. He practically skipped all the way to the dorm, dropped off his books, washed his face and rewrapped his hair, and changed out of his uniform and into jeans and a polo shirt. Vivik whistled tunelessly to himself as he walked to the cafeteria, hoping for spinach ravioli.
Instead, three lurkers waylaid him the moment he stepped out into the quad.
They smiled as they called him over, and they were friendly enough for Hegemony kids, but he already knew what they wanted before they had a chance to ask. It was a minute or two before they politely worked their way around to the question, breaking the longest streak he had run since winter break, and souring his day.
Of course, they wanted to know about Alex.
* * *
Renton was out-of-breath, but he tried to deliver his news anyway. Svetlana flitted annoyingly around him; patting him on the back, cooing, looking concerned, and generally making a spectacle of herself. Anastasia waved her away tersely, and then waited for Renton to stop wheezing long enough to explain what had him so excited. She popped up out of her chair when she heard his news, and even with heels and her hair up, she barely made it to Renton’s chest. When she started pacing, the black Weir in the heavy silver collar that had been dozing beneath her chair whined, sat up, and then followed her at a discreet distance.
“When did they get back? How did I not know about this?”
“They were just hanging around the quad, talking to Vivik,” Renton said, still a bit red in the face. “I don’t know when they got back, or how the precognitives could have missed it. I came here as soon as I saw them.”
Anastasia huffed, and then turned on her heel, pacing away from him, lost in thought.
“All
Readers choose
Kristine Smith
Lisa Marie Rice
Meg Hutchinson
Tracey Smith
K.A. Tucker
Alice Montalvo-Tribue
Robert Kirkman
Dashiell Crevel
Cat Schield