Waking Read Online Free Page A

gaze. “The Lady of Shalott,” she replied. “She was cursed never to look on Camelot, but she saw Lancelot in her mirror and fell in love with him. When she turned to look at him, she saw Camelot and died in the river.”
    Beauty tilted her head. “Cheerful.”
    Luna smiled. “I like it. Tennyson wrote a poem about her, and that painting’s a Waterhouse. He was a Pre-Raphaelite, like the guys I told you about.”
    Beauty nodded. She felt oddly comfortable around Luna, as if they’d been friends for years. It seemed perfectly normal to be sitting around chatting about dead artists. Luna pointed to a pile of books on the low blue table between them.
    â€œI pulled out some of my mom’s books on the Pre-Raphaelites. You can borrow a couple if you want.” Beauty picked up the one on top and flipped idly through it while Luna kept talking. “The Pre-Raphaelites revolutionized art in the mid 1800 s. They used these really bright colors and they painted on white canvases instead of the traditional black ones. It was a big deal. They were like a rock band, you know? Everyone talked about them. Am I boring you? I tend to babble when it comes to this stuff. It runs in the blood.”
    â€œIs your mom really an artist?” Beauty asked wistfully.
    â€œYeah, half the people living here are artists or poets or musicians. It’s very much a Pre-Raphaelite house. Even Poe and some of his friends have been by to rehearse. The basement’s soundproof, for all the musicians to practice in if it’s late. My mom’s weird about getting her eight hours of undisturbed sleep. Anyway, where was I? The project. Right. So that’s why I thought we should do that as our topic. Kind of cheating, but why not? What about your mom?”
    It was like the air filled with dust.
    â€œMy mom worked in an office building. She loved her gardens, though.”
    â€œWhat happened?”
    "She died." Beauty picked up another book and forced a smile. "Does your mom have a studio here?"
    Luna watched her for a moment but decided not to push it. "Yeah, I'll show it to you later if you want."
    Beauty thought of her cramped corner in the basement with virtually no light and paintings stacked under the couch, and then she thought of a real artist’s studio.
    â€œI’d love to see it,” she said. It was the first thing she could remember wanting this much since her mother died. Well, except for Poe. And she just liked watching him.
    â€œYou’re an artist too,” Luna said decisively. Beauty looked up, startled. It was something she normally tried to hide. Artists didn’t last long at Briar High, and she was sick of being talked about.
    â€œWhat makes you say that?” she asked suspiciously.
    Luna shrugged. “I’m either wildly psychic or I noticed the paint spots on your shoes. Your choice.” She grinned. “I’d go with wildly psychic. It’s much more romantic.”
    â€œOh.” Beauty smiled, told herself to relax.
    â€œWhat happened to your thumb?”
    Beauty’s hand clenched as she glanced at the thin red cut. Her shoulders tensed. “Little accident with an X-Acto knife,” she whispered. It was a small cut but slightly inflamed. Her dad would notice it in a second. “My dad’ll freak,” she said, mostly to herself.
    Luna sat up. “Why? It’s tiny. I had to have stitches once when I decided it might be cool to juggle steak knives like I saw at a carnival.” She winced. “A very bad idea. I bled everywhere. Star completely lost it.”
    â€œStar?”
    â€œMy mom. I’ve never seen her so twitchy before.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I have an ugly scar, and I still get a weekly lecture on being careful and it’s been nearly six years. Parents are so weird.”
    Beauty could just imagine what her father would do with a story like that. He’d have a heart attack, simple