The Radleys Read Online Free Page B

Mister Alas. Rowan, could you read the passage on the next page, page twenty-six, the one which starts with . . . let’s see . . .” She smiles, spotting something. “ ‘ Zwei Seelen wohnen, ach! in meiner Brust. ’ Two souls live—or inhabit , or dwell —alas! in my breast, or my heart . . . Go on, Herr Ach! What are you waiting for?”
    Rowan sees the faces staring back at him. The whole class, craning their necks to witness the ridiculous sight of a young adult petrified by the thought of speaking aloud. Only Eve stays with her head down toward her book, in a possible attempt to al eviate his embarrassment. An embarrassment she has already witnessed before, last week in English class when he’d had to read Othel o’s lines to her Desdemona. (“L-l-let me see your eyes,” he’d mumbled into his Arden textbook. “L-l-look in my face.”)
    “ ‘ Zwei Seelen ,’ ” he says, and hears someone stifle a laugh. And then his voice is out there on its own, and for the first time today he actual y feels awake, but it is not a good sensation. It is the alertness of lion tamers and reluctant rock climbers, and he knows he hovers on the brink of catastrophe.
    He steps between words with total fear, aware that his tongue could mispronounce anything at any moment. The pause between “ meiner ” and “ Brust ” lasts five seconds and several lifetimes, and his voice gets weaker on every word, flickering.
    “ ‘ Ich bin der Geist der st-stets verneint ,’ ” he reads. I am the spirit that always denies.
    Even in his nervousness he feels a strange connection with the words, as though they don’t belong to Johann Wolfgang von Goethe but to Rowan Radley.
    I am the itch that is never scratched.

    I am the itch that is never scratched.
    I am the thirst that is never quenched.
    I am the boy who never gets .
    Why is he like this? What is he denying? What would make him strong enough to have confidence in his own voice?
    Eve is holding a bal point, rol ing it between her fingers, looking down at it with concentration as though she is a gifted seer and the pen is something that could tel her the future. She is embarrassed for him, he senses, and the thought crucifies him. He glances at Mrs. Sieben, but her raised eyebrows tel him he has to go on, that his torture is not yet over.
    “ ‘ Entbehren sollst du! ’ ” he says, in a voice which gives no sign of the exclamation mark. “
    ‘ Sollst entbehren! ’ ”
    Mrs. Sieben stops him there. “Come on, say it with passion. These are passionate words. You understand them, don’t you, Rowan? Wel , come on. Say them louder.”
    Al the faces are on him again. Even Eve’s, for a moment or two. They are enjoying this, the way people enjoy bul fights or cruel game shows. He is the bleeding skewered bul whose agony they want to sustain.
    “ ‘ Entbehren sollst du! ’ ” he says again, louder but not loud enough.
    “ ‘ Entbehren sollst du! ’ ” Mrs. Sieben implores. “ Deny yourself! These are strong words, Rowan. They need a strong voice.” She is smiling, warmly.
    What does she think she’s doing? he wonders. Character building?
    “ ‘ Entbehren sollst du! ’ ”
    “More. Mit gusto, come on!”
    “ ‘ Entbehren sollst du! ’ ”
    “Louder!”
    His heart thunders. He reads the words he wil have to shout out loud to get Mrs. Sieben off his back.
    Entbehren sollst du! Sollst entbehren!
    Das ist der ewige Gesang.
    He takes a deep breath, closes his almost tearful eyes, and hears his voice as loud as anything.
    “Deny yourself! You must deny yourself! That is the song that never ends!”
    Only when he’s finished does he realize he’s shouted this out in English. The stifled laughter now becomes ful -blown and people are col apsed over their desks in hysterics.
    “What’s funny?” Eve asks Lorelei Andrews, crossly.
    “Why are the Radleys so weird? ”
    “He’s not weird.”
    “No. That’s true. On Planet Freak he blends in supremely wel . But I was