Read Online Life Eternal by Yvonne Woon - Free Book Online

rooms to wait.
    The long wooden benches of the locker room were already crowded with girls when I walked in. Some were chatting, others checking their hair in mirrors above the line of sinks off to the right. In the corner were a group of girls I recognized from Gottfried. I pushed through the crowd toward them, but when they saw me coming, they dispersed, avoiding my eyes. I froze, realizing they had been talking about me. Finally, Greta, an athletic girl who had lived on my floor last year, gave me a halfhearted wave. Turning away from them, I clutched my things to my chest, and was about to go to the toilets, when above the din I heard someone say, “I’m sorry, Clementine.”
    I turned around, curious to see who lived in the room across from mine.
    Clementine LaGuerre was petite, with dark brown skin so smooth it looked buttery. Her short hair was oiled and elegantly parted on one side like a flapper’s. A group of girls surrounded her as she pinned it in place with a single barrette. She met my gaze in the mirror, her eyes a startling green.
    “Who are you?” she said, speaking to my reflection. Her voice was soft and lyrical, a mix between a French and Caribbean accent. The girls beside her stopped talking and stared at me.
    “Renée.”
    “Renée Winters ?”
    I nodded, surprised she knew my name.
    “So you’re the one who can cheat death,” she said quietly, her face impossible to read.
    “And you’re Clementine. You live across the hall from me.”
    “I know where I live,” she said, her voice calm but firm. Behind her, two girls in matching cardigans laughed. “So did you or did you not survive the kiss of the Undead?”
    Somewhere in the room a locker door clanged shut. The girls scrutinized me, waiting for me to answer. But I was sick of being stared at by strangers, of being asked the same question over and over again. They hadn’t been there that night; they didn’t know what had happened. What gave them the right to pry into the most private moments of my past? By their looks I could tell that it didn’t matter what I said; they already believed I was immortal. So why not let them?
    Clementine put a hand on her hip. “Well, is it true or is it not?”
    I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”
    The room erupted in whispers, but Clementine said nothing, her eyes glued to my reflection.
    “Prove it.”
    I hesitated, my face in the mirror staring back at me, bewildered. Was she serious?
    Clementine crossed her arms. “Go on.”
    At the back of the room was a stairway with a sign that said it led to the swimming pool. I walked toward it. The Undead couldn’t go underground—it would put them to rest, like a burial.
    I paused dramatically at the top step, and felt everyone hold their breath as I descended.
    Behind me, the girls murmured, “But how? What happened?” Until they were interrupted by the locker room door swinging open.
    A graceful woman entered, her cheeks hollowed out with age, her neck thin and curved like a swan’s. She was wearing a wool skirt suit, her hair coiled into a bun.
    “Girls?” she said with a thick French accent. “It is time.”
    We filed out into the gymnasium, where she handed us each a pencil and a map of the school grounds. The boys were nowhere to be seen, and I assumed they were to perform the test separately.
    “ Bonjour, ” the woman said, flexing her neck as she spoke. Standing beside her was a childlike man with a pudgy face that seemed to engulf his eyes. “I am Madame Goût, and this is Monsieur Pollet,” she continued, pronouncing the name Po-lay.
    “Poll et, ” the man corrected, accentuating the t. He sounded American.
    She ignored him. “We will serve as your placement exam proctors. This exam will determine your class rank by testing your talent, speed, and strategy.”
    She turned to Mr. Pollet, who continued. “We have hidden nine dead animals around the St. Clément campus. Your task is to mark the exact