My stomach clenches, but I go on. “An article about you guys. For the school paper. She thinks you have a chance of appealing your conviction if...”
“No.”
“Alexander, I know what happened. She thinks your conviction can get overturned—”
“I said no.” And suddenly he rises up before me, planting his hands on the back of my chair, large and intimidating. He traps me there, his face very close to mine, his eyes dangerous. His breath bathes my cheek. “Don’t write a word about Noelle. Don’t write a word about me. Don’t tell anyone about her or there will be consequences, Kathryn.”
He’s so close that my breath freezes and I can only think suddenly of his level nine hazard index. He must have killed so many people to get that classification. He must have done terrible things.
“I w-won’t,” I stutter. “I won’t do it. I promise, Alexander.”
Something seems to clear in his expression. For a moment, as he looks me over, I swear there’s regret on his face. Then he soundlessly turns and leaves the room. I don’t dare to breathe again until he’s long gone.
My heart’s clamoring in my chest. I grow aware of dead silence hanging over the room. Mr. Dearborn is staring. So is everyone else in the computer lab. Curious eyes search mine, wondering about the confrontation between the two anathemas.
“Kat, what happened?” calls Edgar, my friend from the newspaper. He leans over in his seat, concerned. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I manage, my voice strangled.
I scoot as close to my screen as possible to avoid the stares coming from every direction. Everyone in the room is wondering what happened and so am I. I don’t know what set him off, what I did so wrong. I just wanted to help him, yet now I’m afraid he’s going to come back.
Then again, I just wanted to help Noelle, too. And look how that turned out.
I spend lunch behind the stage in the school auditorium. It’s one of the few private places at school. Amanda finds me and sits side by side with me, shoulder pressed to mine. I expected Conrad to look for me, too. He has to have heard of my incident with Alexander. I’m surprised and hurt he’s not here.
“Guys suck,” Amanda says.
I lean my head on her shoulder, feeling sick inside. “It was crazy. Alexander just flipped out on me.”
“There’s a reason he’s an anathema, Kat.”
“He didn’t do anything bad, though. He tried to protect his sister.”
She snorts. “If his sister’s that girl who made you lose citizenship, she isn’t exactly the model of sanity, either. Just promise me you’ll stay away from them.”
“There was something I said or did that I—”
“Stop. Just stop. You always do this stuff. You make excuses for people.” Amanda shoots me an irritated look. “Remember how Siobhan got on the dance squad?”
I blink, thrown by the change in subject. “She nailed the routine in tryouts.”
“No, she bombed in tryouts. Then she went sobbing to you with some story about her parents getting divorced and feeling so lonely in a new town. You fell for it and talked the squad into letting her try out again. Look how she paid you back: she starts your deathwatch page, tries to steal your boyfriend and breaks your leg.”
“She said that wasn’t on purpose.”
“My point is, if you weren’t so busy being an interfering do-gooder, you wouldn’t have lost citizenship or gotten into any of this mess. All you have to do is keep your nose clean for eight more months and you’ll survive senior year.”
“Not if Conrad’s mom has anything to say about it.”
“Just assure her you’re not going to marry her precious little boy or get knocked up, and she’ll ease off you. Then you’ll be out of here—in Europe eating croissants and hanging out at the Eiffel Tower with hot French boys.”
“Only if I get the Asylum Scholarship.”
She rolls her eyes. “I bet if you promise to ditch Conrad, his mom will outright buy you an exit visa to Europe.”
I laugh. “I don’t think she’s willing to part with that much money. Killing me is way cheaper.”
“My point is, just let other people deal with their own problems for a while.”
“Okay.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Amanda pats my head. “Good girl.”
We fall into silence, our eyes on the curtains and lights above us.
“Hey, remember when we used to come back here in ninth grade?” I ask her.
“I remember you and Conrad were always making out here. You were already practically married.”
I feel a pang. It used to make me feel like I was on fire under my skin whenever Conrad smiled my way. I’m not sure when that faded. Amanda’s right about one thing: we’re almost a force of habit for each other now. Our lips find each other in such a familiar way, but there’s no electricity anymore.
To distract myself, I say, “And you were so into that British guy who sold cigarettes back here. Remember Liam?”
“Oh my God, I remember Liam! The trashy expat who moved to America to cause problems.” She giggles delightedly. “I thought he was so cool and daring and mysterious. I was such a dumb freshman. I don’t even know what happened to him.”
“Maybe he was smart and flew back overseas?”
“No,” Amanda says, with relish. “I bet he’s an anathema by now. He’d probably even enjoy it in some deranged way.”
I shake my head. “You always liked the bad boys.”
She laughs, because it’s true. Even back in fourth grade she had a crush on Tim Long, who used to kick girls in the shins and dump dirt in our hair. Suddenly I find myself thinking of Russell and his creepiness. It makes no sense to me how Amanda, so ready to pounce on anyone else who’s a threat to her, can just tolerate such a sleazebag. She may say I’m the one who makes excuses for other people, but she makes an endless series of excuses for him.
“You can do better than Russell, you know. You’re so far above him.”
I can’t tell her about the bathroom thing. I don’t want to hurt her. I can’t say with absolute certainty that Russell meant everything he said. I’m also worried about her reaction. She’s never been objective where he’s concerned… Not since tenth grade when he sauntered into our school like he already owned the place and everyone in it.
Amanda groans. “I wonder if I’m some closet masochist. I don’t think I’d know what to do with myself if I was happy and everything was going well.”
“Maybe you should have become the anathema.”
She laughs. “Can you imagine? Half the girls in school would’ve contributed to my bounty while telling me to my face how sorry they feel about it.” After a moment, she sobers, the smile falling from her lips. “You know if I could snap my fingers and get over Russ tomorrow, I’d do it.” For a second, I swear, there’s a glint of tears in her eyes.
“You okay, Mandy?” It’s a nickname I haven’t used since the days when Amanda wore mom jeans. Occasionally it just slips out, though. I touch her arm, worried.
When she focuses on me, she’s clear-eyed, wearing a cool, polished smile. “So, back to you. Stay away from psychos, okay, sweetie? Don’t take a cue from me and put up with the bad ones. Alexander Metz is not worth talking to.”
A sigh heaves from me. “I guess I’m glad Conrad hasn’t heard about it. He’d probably overreact.”
“Oh, Conrad heard.”
My gaze swings to hers. Something’s wrong.
Amanda’s eyes gleam. “Believe me, Conrad’s going to talk to Alexander. Derek and Russell are going to help him do this talking. And it’s not an overreaction.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you have friends. No one gets to threaten you and get away with it.” At that moment, the fire alarm goes off. Lights begin blinking in the hallway. The sound startles me, but Amanda flickers her gaze up coolly. “Don’t bother evacuating. This is not really a fire. Or a
drill.”
Then I understand it.
The fire alarm going off means the school has to evacuate to the school track. The track is two blocks beyond the football field—two blocks that are city street, not school property. The look on Amanda’s face confirms my suspicions: Conrad and his friends are going to talk to Alexander.
Off school property.
The way hunters talk to an anathema.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Why are you running so fast?” Amanda calls from behind me, breathless.
“I have to find them!” My leg aches. It’s been a long time since I’ve sprinted like this, but I have to stop this fight. “Where are they?”
Conrad’s phone goes straight to voice mail. I punch in Derek’s number. Amanda gives an exasperated groan and weaves after me through a crowd of classmates.
There’s a festive excitement on the air, the sidewalk and street jammed with people pouring out of the school. A fire truck’s siren is pealing in the distance, getting closer. It occurs to me briefly that Conrad and his friends will get in trouble if they left prints around the alarm they set off. I hope they do. It would serve them right for being so stupid!
Derek doesn’t pick up so I dial Conrad again. I twist around in circle after circle. My gaze picks frantically over the crowd, searching for a knot of fighting boys.
“This is bad. This is really bad, Amanda. We can’t let them attack Alexander!”
“Why are you so worried about him?”
“I’m not worried they’ll hurt Alexander.” My thoughts flit to his profile on the hunting database. An HI-9. “I’m worried he’s going to hurt them.”
She laughs. “There are three of them and they’re all on the football team. They can handle Alexander Metz.”
“You don’t get it!” My mind flits to Noelle with her ice pick. Amanda’s never seen someone die before. Never seen an anathema kill. She – and Conrad – don’t understand it’s a whole different league of violence when someone is trying to stay alive.
An anathema has nothing to lose. Off school grounds, Conrad’s attack on Alexander becomes an official hunting activity. Alexander can simply gut him, and Conrad won’t even have a Vendetta Clause making a payment towards Alexander’s bounty. He’ll be a hunter who died hunting. There is no life insurance for that.
“If Alexander doesn’t kill Conrad,” I vow, “I’m going to do it.”
And then I spot Conrad.
“CONRAD!”
He doesn’t hear me, the sunlight glinting over his coppery hair. Beside him is the broad-shouldered form of Derek, and just ahead of them, Russell. I move towards them, and at that moment they all take off together, running like a pack, spotting their quarry. Panic beats through my brain.
No… No!
Through a sea of heads and teenagers clotting the sidewalk. They catch up to Alexander. Russell throws an arm around his neck, Conrad and Derek each seizing an arm. I scream for them to stop, fighting my way towards them. They drag him right out into the street.
Suddenly it’s like a switch flips. Alexander moves with the precision of a trained fighter, lashing out at Derek, hurtling him into Conrad. He reaches back and flips Russell over his shoulder. He sinks a brutal kick into his chest, and then whips around as Derek charges, sending him hurtling to the concrete. He dives into Conrad and both boys roll across the concrete. An oncoming car’s tires screech as it swerves around their tangle of flying fists, kicking legs.
Russell is already on his feet, Derek pulling himself up. I snag the back of Russell’s shirt, screaming at him, trying to stop him from rejoining the fight. His arm swipes back, knocking me away. My knees scrape the pavement. The entire mass of classmates in our school is boiling around us now, hooting, shouting excitedly.
I whirl around, and Amanda helps me to my feet. Alexander dodges Derek’s punch and slams his face into the nearest car window, then slams it again. Blood sprouts from Derek’s nose. Alexander whirls around and kicks the driver’s side mirror clear off, then scoops it up and smashes it into Russell’s face.
Russell drops to the ground. Amanda’s grip tightens on me convulsively.
“Russ!” she gasps.
Alexander’s hands are bloody as he stalks forward and brings down the mirror with a sickening thunk into Russell’s head. Then he whips towards Conrad where he’s trying to heave himself up from the ground. He tosses aside the mirror and his hand dips into his coat. He pulls out his knife with practiced ease. The blade flips open, catching the sharp light of the sun. My heart lurches.
I rip out of Amanda’s grip. “NO!”
Conrad is bleeding, trying to heave himself up. And Alexander is stalking in for the kill. The knife rests steadily in his hand. There’s an icy resolve on his face that tells me he won’t think twice about using it.
I throw myself between the two of them, adrenaline racing through my veins, every molecule of my body electrified with fear. Alexander’s tall silhouette blots out the sun, and his voice is deadly calm as he says, “Get out of the way, Kathryn.”
“Don’t!” I shout. “Alexander, please don’t. Don’t hurt them.”
Alexander casts a slow gaze back towards Russell, moaning, trying to find his feet. Then to Derek, still out cold. Back towards Conrad. His blue eyes are cool and deliberate. Ruthless.
“If I don’t kill them now,” Alexander says softly, his dark eyebrows harsh slants in his chiseled face, “they’ll just try this again later. Hunters always do.”
“No, they won’t try again. I swear they won’t. Look, I helped your sister! Ask her. I did. I saved her life.” A slight exaggeration, but it was in a good cause.
Alexander circles around me slowly, reminding me of some alert predator. Considering me. I take it as a good sign.
“That’s how I met Noelle,” I tell him. “There was a hunter. He was going to hurt her. I didn’t let him. I pushed him over, she killed him. That’s how I lost citizenship. I lost it helping her. Please, Alexander, don’t do this.”
The air seems to hang very still about us, only the peal of a nearby sirens mounting on the air. The students watching all seem to be collectively holding their breath. A few hold up cell phones, filming us. The entertainment.
Alexander lifts his index finger, eyes on mine. “One time. They get one pass. For you. The next time they come after me, deal’s off.”
“They won’t do it again.”
Alexander slides his blade back into its holder. Then he sweeps around and walks off, leaving a stunned student body and three injured football players in his wake.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Conrad is furious at me for begging Alexander to spare him. I’m furious at Conrad because if I hadn’t begged Alexander for mercy, he’d be dead now.
Guys are idiots, Amanda texts me that Friday. Russ is vowing revenge. It’s like he didn’t get beaten up enough the first time.
My parents are sitting nearby. I can’t concentrate on the TV show we’re marathoning, so I’m texting with Amanda. She’s hanging out at Russell’s house, enduring his sulking. Is R badly hurt?
Concussion & out of game this week. Coach is pissed. How’s Conrad?
About the same. I am so mad at him!!! I punch in that last part with a flourish.
It doesn’t help that someone filmed the whole fight from its beginning to end. They uploaded it onto YouTube, where some other person recut it and played this ridiculous Benny Hill song over it. They sped up the action to match the tempo of the song, making the whole fight look like something out of The Three Stooges.
It’s already gone viral and spawned an internet meme on Reddit called ‘Cocky Frat Boy Hunter’. The meme features a photograph of Conrad looking smug in his football jersey, with text above and below his head that says stuff like:
“Gangs up with friends to take down one anathema.
Loses.”
Or:
“Hunters launch attack with overwhelming force.
Get saved by a girl.”
>
I’m almost glad Conrad is stuck at home right now. I don’t even want to see his reaction to being the laughingstock of the internet. I’m not in a mood to be a sympathetic and understanding girlfriend right now.
Bad enough to know I’ve played my own small part in that YouTube video. I’m the HI-1 anathema at the end begging the HI-9 to spare her boyfriend. Only a few comments below the YouTube video mention me. They’re a few too many. I have a high bounty for an HI-1. Several comment on that. It leaves ice in my chest just thinking about it.
The internet, the message boards, even mom’s dumb book, Not a Citizen? Not a Problem! all agree on one thing: once you become an anathema, attention is a direct threat in most any form.
I’m not getting the bulk of it, though.
Alexander is.
He’s the hot topic of the comments below the video. Hunting is America’s number one sport, after all. The one thing people love more than a celebrity hunter is a lethal anathema. There are dozens of comments ID’ing him off the hunter databases and marveling at the size of his bounty, talking about strategies to take him down.
That HI-9’s bounty is a whole year’s salary. A good salary, too, writes one.
Another says, I’d like to go one-on-one against that one. Chainsaw style.
You know what I’d pay to see? comments another user. Wolfman Savage vs. this guy. Send Death’s Disciples to Cordoba Bay!
A cold chill runs down my spine. I quickly downvote the suggestion. Then I close the window and put my phone away, too afraid to read anything else.
Monday morning, I peer out the window into the crisp morning, a mug of coffee in hand. I scan the street, worry twanging me. It didn’t occur to me until this morning that Conrad wouldn’t be back in school until he’d recovered from the fight. It’s 8:05, and I have no ride. Amanda goes to the gym every morning before school, so there’s no way she’ll be able to shower and pick me up unless we both get there late.
Anathema Page 8
