Everything Beautiful Read Online Free PDF

transcendence.
In the early months, none of us brought up the big D that follows the big C, but one day I asked Mom what she thought would happen and she said, “I’m picturing sunshine, straight up. Someone will take my hand and I’ll feel light. When I was pregnant with you I used to float in a saltwater pool. I’ve decided it will be light as that. Just light . ” At the funeral everyone talked about God and heaven and how Mom wasn’t in pain anymore, but the priest kept calling mom “Lily”—no one ever called her Lily!—and the funeral had hidden costs, and the whole thing just felt heavy, not light at all.

8
The Idea of Kinship
Toward the end of Neville’s holy thanks the door opened. A guy ran down the side of the room, pumping his fist like a game show contestant. He did a heroic leap onto the stage and took the chair next to Roslyn. He was gorgeous . He had white blond hair in a kind of faux-hawk, brown eyes, and olive skin. I stared at him from under my hat. He looked too young to be a counselor. Over his T-shirt he wore a black and silver vest with the letters YL . Neville introduced him as Craig Barrett, Youth Leader. My first instinct was to put him in the too-hard basket. A guy like that and a girl like me … But then he smiled and, ohmystars! It was the kind of smile a guy gives you when he’s just about to pull your school uniform over your head and expose your bra to all and sundry. The kind of smile that killed me.
In my dreamy-dreams I imagined a boy, sarcastic and hilarious, who’d make me a fetish necklace out of gum-nuts and feathers and champagne wire. A boy like that could be possible. But a beautiful boy was something else. A beautiful boy could make me feel beautiful back. “There’s a challenge,” I told myself, echoing my father.
Craig was squinting at the door, waving someone in. At first all I saw was a dark square in the sunlight. As it came closer, I realized it was a guy in a wheelchair. Craig pointed him to Honeyeater territory. He parked across from me and bowed his head. I checked him out: he was skinny and pale. He had long dark hair and a cool bruiser’s pout. He was wearing a Kreator T-shirt and black jeans, but I could tell by the way his feet fell that the chair was a fixture. His eyes flashed sideways. Busted . I stared down at my lapful of lavender. I lined the flowers up head to head.
When Craig first took the stage an appreciative ripple went through the audience. The female campers sat up straighter, even little Mallee girls who still played with Barbies. Craig did have a bit of Ken doll about him. Now Fleur did a languid neck roll so that her hair fell over one shoulder. Craig looked comfortable with all this attention. He read the rules, with one eyebrow cocked for coolness. I stared at the fine gold hairs on his calves.
“No drinking, no drugs, no pranks—you know what I’m talking about—no short-sheeting, no plastic over the toilet seat. Take it from me, if you stick your roomie’s hand in a bowl of warm water while he’s sleeping, he will not wet the bed. Ahem. No stealing, no phones, no unauthorized excursions into non-camp territory, no midnight feasts … Did I mention no swearing? No inappropriate clothing, no coupling up …” He mimed NOT .
There were giggles at that. Sarita’s eyes were all pupil. She looked like she’d stopped breathing. Craig’s words kept coming. They folded over each other like lather. The Mallees were getting restless. There was sneaker scraping going on. Beyond the rec room walls I could hear nature noises: birds and insects, summer’s fizz. I could feel someone looking at me—Wheelchair Boy. I smiled at him. He rolled his eyes and I tingled all over at the idea of kinship.
“One more thing,” Craig called. “Roslyn has lost her ‘shroud,’ so keep your eyes peeled for a—”
Roslyn lunged at the microphone. “Piece of fabric. If you find it, please don’t wash it … or use it as a hanky. Just … hand it