Anathema (12 page)

There aren’t many places open this early in the morning. I sprawl out on my backpack outside my English classroom, sleep still clenching a heavy hand over me. I doze in and out, figuring the noise of students flooding the hallways will wake me up.

“Mighty fine morning to you,” comes a nearby voice.

I jolt upright. An unfamiliar man with light orange hair, freckles, and a bland smile stands above me. I leap to my feet.

“Let me introduce myself,” he drawls. “I’m Mitch Larsen. I’m a producer with
Showdown
.”

I stumble back from his outstretched hand like it’s a snake, my back hitting the locker. “You can’t be here.”

He smiles slowly. “And why not?”

“This is a school!” My voice is hysterical. “You can’t hunt in a school.”

He looks back and forth down the shadowy hallway, half-lit. “Don’t see anyone around. Nobody will notice if I just drag you outside and say I caught you out there.”

Horror surges inside me. My back presses into the locker behind me so hard the metal locks dig into my skin.

Suddenly, Mitch chuckles like it’s all a joke. “Oh, I’m not being serious here, sugar. I’m not even here to kill you. I told your town mayor we were planning to shoot an episode here. She authorized us to take some location shots from inside the school.”

“Mayor Alton?” I say, feeling a surge of disbelieving bitterness. Probably she was hoping they’d kill me while they were here.

“Mighty fine lady,” Mitch agrees in his faint drawl. “I tell you, you’re not easy to get in touch with. I parked outside your house last night hoping I’d get a chance to chat with you, but you weren’t coming out. I called your house, but your parents hung up on me. I figure we can come to an agreement, you and I.”

I stare at him, acutely conscious that we’re alone in here. “What sort of agreement?”

His smile is easy. He looks so harmless. “See, you’re just a schoolgirl. Nobody orders pay-per-view to see some helpless little girl anathema get butchered. That’s what snuff porn sites are for.”

He chuckles. Then his smile falls away, his expression growing serious.

“What we need is your friend. The other anathema. The HI-9. I bet you know where he is. Where he might be hiding. He slipped past us and we can’t quite figure out how. But we are just dying to have him on our show.”

My fear fades, the first prickles of anger stirring within me. “So he can die for you.”

He shrugs. “Sooner or later, it’s bound to happen. Bounty that high, handsome young buck like that, his number’s gonna be up someday. The question is, will
you
get a cut of the finder’s fee for giving him to us, or not? Will he get an exit with the dignity he deserves, or will it be some hick hunter who catches him by surprise?”

“What dignity is there in dying on your screwed up show?”

“What dignity is there in boxers pummeling each other, or football players crashing into each other, chasing a ball? There’s the dignity of the athlete. The sportsman doing what he does best. The modern-day
warrior.”
His pale, lashless eyes glow with passion, with earnest conviction.
“I saw that YouTube video. That kid is a warrior. His fighting is poetry. He deserves a great send off.”

“I don’t even know Alexander that well, but I doubt he’d agree.”

Mitch nods. “Well, you think it over. No one on my crew is going to hurt you if you give us a hint about where he might be. We may even give you a hefty reward. That boy’s bounty is nothing to the budget of a show like ours, we could definitely give you a cut. You can hire a bodyguard with it, maybe even buy an exit visa. Pretty thing like you, low hazard index…” I stiffen as he lifts a strand of my blonde hair with his finger. I flinch back, and he tsks. “You’d better start watching out for yourself, too, little girl.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Sure about that?” His pale eyebrows rise. A hint of something else creeps over his face. Suddenly he doesn’t look so friendly. “Thing about being an anathema is, you’re fair game.” He leans closer. His breath smells like coffee. “If we don’t get our hands on Metz, we’ll have wasted our money shooting around here. That means we’ve got to recoup some production costs. Five thousand is just a fraction of that, but it’s better than nothing.”

I curl my fists against the cold locker behind me. “So either I help you find him and take your blood money, or you’ll kill me?”

“You sure do catch on fast. But hey, if you don’t want our dirty blood money, feel free to just help for free.” He chuckles at his own joke again.

He is a monster. My throat feels constricted with a ball of anxiety. “I really don’t know where Alexander is. I’m not lying about that. I swear, I don’t know how he got past you.”

“You stopped us from getting him before, I think that means he owes you. Surely you can use that to find out, resourceful young girl like you.” Mitch winks at me. “When you do, give me a call anytime, sugar. Just don’t make me wait too long.” He reaches forward and slips his card into my pocket. Then he turns and strides out, leaving me there in the middle of the empty hallway. He passes the first students trickling into the lobby for the morning, the first voices bubbling through the air

I sink down against my locker, shaking all over. My forehead presses into my knees. So here it is. My choice. I die or Alexander does. My life or his.

So much for doing the right thing.

A hand touches my shoulder.

I scream out and leap to my feet before I know what I’m doing. Panic soars through me, my breath rasping frantically in and out of my lungs. But it’s Conrad. Just Conrad. He stands in front of me in his letter jacket, a bruise healing over his cheek, holding his weight in a stiff way that tells me he’s still hurting. His coppery hair is askew like his arms were too sore to style it properly.

“Woah, you’re jumpy,” he notes.

“Conrad.” I repeat his name, just to assure myself it’s him, not anyone worse.

“You weren’t waiting for me this morning.”

“What?”

“To pick you up. You weren’t there. I was almost late.”

I blink at him stupidly. “I didn’t even know you were back in school.”

“I texted you, like, ten times.”

I pull my phone out of my pocket and glance at it. So he had.

A sigh escapes me. “Conrad, I’m just… I was busy.”

He draws forward. His arms close around me. My head falls against his chest by habit, the way it always does. I rest in his arms wondering when I can pull away without seeming rude.

“You didn’t come by my house this weekend.” There’s a note of hurt in his voice, his chest rumbling beneath my cheek. “I had a concussion.”

“Great idea.” Sarcasm pours out of my voice. “I should’ve risked death to take care of you after you stupidly attacked Alexander. Then your mom could’ve added a few thousand more to my bounty.”

“I’m telling you, that wasn’t her!” He steps back from me, raking a hand through his hair. More students are trickling past us now, roving the hallways. “I don’t get what’s going on with you lately. I’m here, I’ve been driving you to school, I’ve being supportive. Some guy gets in your face so I get in his—”

“And look how well that worked out.”

“It’s never enough for you!” Conrad explodes. “I’m doing all I can to be a good boyfriend even though I’m suddenly dating
an anathema
. Most
citizens
don’t date
anathemas
.”

My gaze flies up to his. I can’t believe Conrad of all people is throwing the a-word at me like that.

“So I fight this guy for your honor,” he goes on, “I get bashed by the entire internet, but that’s okay, I did it for my girl. Then the very next day, Siobhan Park calls me and tells me you’ve been giving Alexander rides to school and saving him from hunters. What am I supposed to think, Kat?”

Of course Siobhan told him. “It’s complicated. Can we not do this right now? Please?
Please
?”

“Not until I have an explanation!”

“You don’t get it,” I burst out. “You think this is about you. My life is a train wreck right now. I didn’t ask to lose citizenship. I don’t want people to threaten my life. I don’t want to have to get A’s so I have something other than untimely death in my near future. Just now a grown man walked in here and threatened to kill me if I don’t give into his blackmail.”

“What? Who?” He steps towards me again, but I hold up my hands to ward him off. I don’t want to go into it.

“All this stuff is happening. The last thing I need is to deal with
you
on top of it.” I gesture between us, frustration raging through me. “I am not in the right place to reassure some needy, insecure boyfriend who’s reading too much into stuff. I’m sorry things aren’t the way they used to be. I am. It sucks that your mom is a psychotic shrew. It sucks that we’re not having sex anymore. It sucks for you, it really does, but believe me, this whole thing sucks way worse on my side. So can you please,
please
just lay off me for a while?”

Conrad draws back from me, his brows pressing down over hurt, baffled eyes. Strange how detached I feel from this situation, even though a month ago I would’ve been devastated to know I’d hurt him.

“I can lay off you,” he says quietly. “I can lay off you for a long while. Or forever, since that’s obviously what you want.”

I stare at him. “Are you seriously doing this? I’m venting because I’m under intolerable stress, and you’re actually going to do this?”

“Yeah, I’m actually going to do this.” He punctuates it with a decisive slash in the air with his hand. “I don’t need this. Your life sucks but mine doesn’t have to! We’re through.”

For a moment, we just stare at each other. Then, with a flash of anger, I turn away. “Be sure to tell your mom,” I snarl over my shoulder. “Maybe the surge of joy will kill her on the spot!”

I ignore the objections Conrad bellows after me. All I can think of is the way my boyfriend, the constant of my entire high school existence, just dumped me. Now of all times, he dumps me.

This is going to hurt soon. Right now I’m just mad.

By second period, everyone knows about our breakup. By lunchtime, Conrad is nestling an arm around Siobhan in the cafeteria. They giggle between kisses, and she looks my way every so often to make sure I’ve noticed. This is her hour of ultimate triumph.

I curl my fist around my fork, unable to take a single bite of my salad. If I do, I’ll puke.

Heidi from the school newspaper sidles up to me near the drink machine. “I am so sorry, Kat.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It’s so weird.” She stares at Conrad, her face pinched beneath her whey blonde hair. “You and Conrad are, like, the couple. It’s always been Kathryn Grant and Conrad Alton. Kat and Conrad. Like a package deal.”

“Not anymore.” My voice scrapes from my dry throat. I don’t realize my soda has overflowed until it seeps over my fingers. I release the button quickly and stare at my sticky hand. “It’s no big deal.”

“Siobhan’s a total rebound. Everyone thinks it’s nauseating, the way they’re doing all this PDA.”

“Look, forget it. I’m over it.”

Heidi gives me a swift hug and a last, sympathetic look.

Then it’s just me again. An island in the middle of the cafeteria, trying not to stare at what I’ve lost. Strange how I took Conrad for granted. Like a family member. Like Amanda. I just assumed he’d always be there.

I set my drink down and walk right out of the cafeteria. Amanda will follow. So will some curious onlookers eager for gossip. I’m sure of it.

When I settle in our alcove behind the stage, it’s not just Amanda flanking me. It’s Nancy and Lilah and three eleventh-graders from the dance squad I’ve never talked to. They all watch eagerly for me to react as they assure me Conrad is so unworthy of me and Siobhan is such a vindictive…

“Stop! Enough, okay?” I exclaim. “God, can you guys go away?”

They file out, muttering to each other. I don’t care what they think of me right now. I just don’t.

“Amanda,” I say. “You know I don’t want you to go.”

“Of course not.” She knows better than to think I was talking to her. Her shoulder presses into mine when she settles next to me.

“I can’t stand this,” I tell her. “I have to leave.”

“It’s the middle of the day and there’s a blockade of hunters out there.”

My mind turns to the producer, Mitch. Chuckling in the hallway. Warning me it’s my life or Alexander’s. My head throbs. I can’t handle this all at once. If I go to class right now, everyone will stare at me. Everyone will whisper about me. Not only am I an anathema, I’ve been publicly dumped and rejected. But worst of all, I’ll see Alexander Metz in comp sci.

 
Alexander, whose life I have to trade if I want to save my own.

I shake my head. “I’m not going to class. I’m just not.”

Amanda sighs. “Okay, I know what you need. I’ll procure it. Give me a sec.”

“You have a time machine?”

“Nope.”

“A cyanide pill?”

“Much closer.” She begins to text someone. “You know, this is not going to matter soon. You were never going to marry Conrad. He’s not worth tearing yourself apart over. Seven months from now, you’ll get that Asylum Scholarship and go to France to meet hot French boys.”

Her words stir no optimism within me. It’s not only Conrad I’m upset about. He’s a single stone of the crumbling foundation that is my life.

I’m losing everything I once had. My future in the USA. My future in general. I’ll never go to New York University with Amanda the way we planned. We won’t share an apartment as Amanda becomes the world’s most famous fashion designer and I become a hotshot reporter at the New York Times.

I am going to die. And it’ll happen very soon if I don’t tell that producer with
Showdown
how to get to Alexander. If I don’t want to die, I have to find some way to get Alexander in their clutches. The moment I do that, the last few months of my existence become utterly futile.

That day on the pier when I met Noelle, I really was filled with good intentions. I wanted to help her. I was sure I could do the right thing.

And now I’m going to get her brother killed.

If this was a movie, I’d make a noble stand and be a martyr before a murderer. But this is real life. I’m too afraid. I don’t want to die. So I’m losing all of this for nothing. All of my good intentions are going to be eradicated by the great wrong I’m going commit.

Russell appears. Amanda pulls away from me and they murmur to each other. Then he saunters over. “Heard you need to get smashed.”

“That’s the plan?” I ask Amanda. “Drinking?”

She beams. “That’s the plan. Not your poison of choice, but still a poison.”

“But we’re at school.”

“When else is it going to happen, at home? With your parents in the next room? Come on, let’s take your mind off it all for a few hours.”

Take my mind off it all. That actually sounds incredibly appealing.

“Here ya go.” Russell tosses down a water bottle.

I examine the clear liquid dubiously. “What is this, straight vodka? Everclear?”

“A concoction of my father’s. You know how my grandfather made his money in oil? Well, this is a family recipe we call ‘gasoline’,” Russell says smoothly. “No actual gasoline involved.”

I take a huge swig of the clear liquid. It hits me like a punch to the throat. I narrowly manage to swallow before I gag.

Amanda and Russell both cackle at the look on my face, then she takes the bottle from me and takes a swig. She handles it slightly better than I do, though her eyes prick with tears. Russell downs it like it’s the water it appears to be, a triumphant smile on his face. I suppose he thinks it’s impressive.

It is, a bit.

“I have a history test sixth period,” Amanda warns us. “I can’t drink too much.”

I have a test that period, too. In Spanish. I take another eye-watering swig. I have never skipped a test before. But if I’m being forced to hand over Alexander to the
Showdown
people, it won’t even matter. Their blood money will buy me an exit visa. No Asylum Scholarship required. Just a complete and total void of conscience. Maybe alcohol can do for now.

By the time sixth period comes around, we’re all feeling it. Amanda’s reached the point where she thinks she’s not and insists on tottering to her feet and going to class.

“I probably won’t understand the questions,” Amanda giggles.

“Be realistic, sweetheart. You probably wouldn’t anyway,” Russell tells her.

It’s one of those disrespectful things Conrad would never have said to me. It’s something Amanda wouldn’t tolerate from anyone else. But there’s no line Russell can’t cross. She bats his shoulder. “I hate you.”

He captures her in his arms and draws her into a long, sloppy kiss. I find myself watching them blearily. Sometimes I think about the way Amanda’s father left them when she was young. I remember those times on her birthday when we were little, when she’d cry because her dad sent a hundred dollars in a Hallmark card but didn’t call. She had stepfathers. So many of them were these handsome, debonair types who gravitated to her mother’s money, her big house, her lifestyle. I still get their names mixed up.

Amanda stopped hating the stepfathers and began rolling her eyes and laughing about them in Junior High. She’d pocket the money her father sent and trash his Hallmark cards without even looking at them. It all seemed to glance off her. I wonder sometimes if it really doesn’t, though. I look at the way Russell treats her and the way she accepts it and wonder if the pain is all still there, some hemorrhage deep down beneath her glittering surface.

She’s worth so much more than this. I wish I could tell her, but although my thoughts feel profound to me right now, my tongue is too clumsy and stupid to voice them.

“Love you, Mandy,” is all I manage, throwing an arm around her.

She hugs me back. “Love ya, too, hon.” Then she’s teetering away. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“We’ll count the seconds,” Russell pledges, hand on his heart, smirk on his lips.

Silence descends. It hits me dully that Amanda is gone. As the walls teeter and spin around me, I focus on the other occupant of the room. He’s breathing heavily, his gaze clinging to mine. His pupils are dilated. “Look at this, Kitten. We’re alone.”

The thought floats out from the dull sludge in my mind: I’m drunk and alone with Russell Corgin.

As if this day wasn’t bad enough already.