Endlessly Beautiful (Beautiful #1.3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

surrounding Keaton Hall. The building and the muddy ground bordering the four corners of brick and stone were now a crime scene. The cops—and now the FBI—were investigating the death of thirty seven college students, most of them not old enough to buy a beer. I’d been wondering for three days when I should tell Dad, how he would take the news that his youngest son had been involved in the most tragic event in Eastern State’s history, and what he would say. I imagined the disappointment in his eyes, the worry and stress that would plague him, even after the police carted me off to prison.
    The bricks over each window of the building where Adam had staged my last fight was stained black from smoke. The screams from just a few nights before still rang in my ears, and I recalled the terror I felt when I was desperately looking in the basement through the dark maze of halls for Abby. The overwhelming fear that came over me when I realized Trenton wasn’t outside with the rest of the survivors was still fresh. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end just thinking about it. Still, none of that touched the heartbreak so many parents had been feeling since the story of the fire had broke on the news. Even though Abby never missed an opportunity to say that what happened wasn’t my fault, I still felt responsible.
    I paused in front of a makeshift memorial for the victims: a pile of notes, ribbons, flowers, and stuffed animals. Abby tugged on my head, pulling me forward without saying a word. She knew I was beating myself up about it, but she didn’t know I was struggling with the urge to turn myself in. The only thing that was stopping me was thinking about leaving my new wife alone.
    I walked her to the building where she had her first class, and after kissing her in a way that would let anyone who saw know she was my wife, I watched her walk up the stairs and disappear behind the double glass doors.
    Shepley slapped me on the shoulder. “They grow up so fast.”
    I shrugged away from his grip. “Fuck off, penis breath.”
    Shepley chuckled. “One of the sisters from Sig Cap already asked America if the rumor was true.”
    I could feel my eyebrows slowly pull in. “What rumor?”
    Shepley stared at me as if I were an imbecile. “The rumor that you married Abby.”
    I adjusted my backpack and began to walk under the gray sky, feeling the morning air infiltrate my long-sleeved T-shirt. Shepley struggled to match my pace, ever so often breaking into a short jog. We didn’t speak until we reached the liberal arts building, where we both had class. I took two steps at a time, finally prompting Shepley to complain.
    “For fuck’s sake, Trav. Where’s the fire?”
    I stop and turned to face my cousin, clenching my teeth. “What is wrong with you?”
    Shepley paled. “Sorry, man. Poor choice of words. We’re not late. We’ve still got ten minutes before class. Why are you rushing?”
    “I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I said, yanking open the door.
    The hall was flooded with students coming and going, flowing past one another until they parted long enough to bypass an obstacle in the center of the walkway: a glass box sitting on top of a podium. Encased inside was a bust of Gerald P. Stymie, the former president of Eastern State, and former member of Sig Tau. Mr. Stymie rushed Sig Tau with my dad and Uncle Jack, and I remembered him dropping by our house often during my formative years. He attended our holiday parties, and my mother’s funeral. He died four years after he retired, which was six years before my freshman year of college. I wondered if he would be more disappointed that I had helped orchestrate Eastern’s most tragic event, or that I wasn’t owning up to my involvement.
    The energy was so different from the week before spring break when everyone was smiling and walked with a bounce in their step. Now the halls were quiet, the air heavy and somber. The girls were wiping away tears, and the guys