It thaws something icy in my chest, hearing Conrad refer to me as his girlfriend without realizing it. He crosses over to me, and settles in the chair next to mine, rubbing my shoulder. His eyes are filled with love and concern. “He was really going to do it,” Conrad says, stunned. “He was really going to kill you.”
I stare at him incredulously. What does he think has been happening to me all this time? “It’s not like he’s the first.”
“Kat…” He gathers me close into his powerful arms, and the familiarity of it hearkens to a better time, makes me want to cry. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs against my hair. “I didn’t get it. I didn’t realize it was like this for you.”
“What did you think?” I cry, my chest feeling torn. After all this time, he understands. But I want to hit him because it took him so long to understand.
“I just didn’t realize it. It was stupid but it wasn’t… It wasn’t…”
“It wasn’t real to you,” I finish for him.
“Yeah.” His breath blows across my hair as he exhales. “I’m sorry. I didn’t understand. You were acting so differently, but I didn’t really understand. I do now.”
“You hurt me, Conrad.”
His hands stroke my hair, over and over again. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get it before. I love you. I still love you. Please forgive me.”
I’m still hurt and angry over our breakup, but a part of me relishes this, the feeling of being vindicated, and being cared for. “So what about Siobhan?”
“She’s nothing to me. I was angry. I knew it would bother you. I’m sorry. She meant nothing. We didn’t… We didn’t do anything, I swear.” His voice grows tight. He keeps pressing kisses to my forehead. “You ran here for my help and I wasn’t here. I’m sorry.”
“Your mom was.”
“What?”
“Your mother. She was here.”
His lips freeze against my forehead. I raise my eyes to his, waiting to see how he’ll react.
He stares at me, still cupping my face, looking like a man being strangled.
“I rang the doorbell a bunch of times,” I say. “She heard me. She saw me. She didn’t do anything.”
Conrad and I sit there frozen like that. I am totally on edge, wondering how he’s going to react to this. Then Mayor Alton sweeps back into the room, saying, “I’ve called Russell’s parents, and they assure me he won’t be making an issue of this. You’re lucky this time. I hope—”
Conrad releases me suddenly and rises to his feet. “Mom, were you home?”
Mayor Alton halts in place, her lips a flat, thin line. A few locks of her auburn hair have slipped out of her bun. “Excuse me?”
Conrad stares at her like he’s never seen her before. “Did you just leave her out there to die?”
Her expression flickers. “It’s complicated.”
Conrad’s jaw drops. “It really was you, wasn’t it?” he breathes. “You were the one who added to her bounty. You want her dead.”
“We’ll talk about this. Now isn’t the right time.” Her warning gaze flits to me.
Conrad shakes his head. “I’ve been defending you this whole time. And this whole time, you’ve wanted her dead!” He moves over to me, and urges me up out of my chair. “We’re going.”
I rise mindlessly, amazed by the suddenness with which familiarity has come pouring back into my life. Conrad is in my corner again. He’s defending me again. I don’t know how I feel about this yet, but there is something so incredibly satisfying about the distress on Mayor Alton’s face. Her son is choosing me. He’s choosing me.
“Where are you going?” Mayor Alton shouts after him.
But Conrad just leads me out into the night, a protective arm tucked around me. He takes the machete from me and holds it himself, an implicit promise to fend off any hunters who harass us. No one will. Not now that he’s here.
“We’ll get you home. And…” He turns to me in the streetlight, his eyes searching mine. “And we can talk tomorrow, right?”
I swallow hard. “Yeah, I guess.”
“I just…” And then he sweeps down and presses his lips to mine hungrily.
Familiarity sweeps over me. Suddenly I’m the Kathryn of three months ago, not the anathema of today. But I feel cold, and this feel wrong.
Not to Conrad, though.
He rears back, stroking his hands through my short hair. “Hey, this hair’s pretty sexy.” He presses his forehead to mine, his breath rasping against my lips. “Look, it’ll be better now. I’ll take care of you. I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Can I give you a ride to school?”
“I don’t know.” Heidi definitely can’t anymore. I learned that tonight. I should say ‘yes’, but I can’t bring myself to agree yet. It feels like agreeing to something more, and I still sting whenever I think of Conrad holding Siobhan in the cafeteria.
“I shouldn’t have stopped,” he tells me. “I should’ve kept driving you. Even if you didn’t want me anymore. This time, whatever happens, whatever—I’ll drive you. I’ll get you there every day from now on. I’ll keep you safe. I swear it.”
I nod wearily, my head throbbing. He throws a look over his shoulder towards his house, where Mayor Alton still gazes at us from the doorway. His grip tightens around me.
“Let’s get you home.”
I barely hear him. For a moment the rest of the world disappears and all I see is Mayor Alton framed in the light spilling from her house. Her gaze feels like it’s piercing my skin. If she could kill me with just the sheer force of that glare, I’d be dead already.
As it is, she’s helpless to stop us. For once.
A spiteful impulse rears from deep within me. My lips curve up. “Hey Conrad?” I say, sill looking at her, not him.
He turns.
“Kiss me again,” I tell him.
He dips his mouth to mine. His arms eagerly envelop me, and he murmurs something about how much he loves me. I return his kiss, my eyes open, staring past him so I can watch Mayor Alton disappear into the house. She slams the door so hard, I can hear it from here. Vindictive pleasure is surging through my veins. This may be the only revenge I can get, but I’ll take it. Let her think about this. Let her spend all night obsessing about how this will look at the polls next year.
As for the consequences—I’ll worry about them another day.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Conrad drives me to school the next morning. It’s a cold, murky November day, with a chill wind and faint drizzle misting the air. I don’t need Conrad to take me from the front door to my car. I walk out myself as soon as he and Derek pull up.
“No Russell?” I joke, sliding into the seat behind them.
Conrad throws me a startled look in the rearview mirror.
“Just kidding,” I say quickly.
“She’s funny,” Derek says. He peers back at me suspiciously. “Since when are you funny?”
“Since when do you talk?” I retort.
“Are you crazy? Derek never shuts up,” Conrad grouses. He gives Derek the wheel and comes to join me in the backseat, looping his arm around me.
I’m still not sure how I feel about this. I woke up in the middle of the night troubled to realize Conrad must think we’re back together. As satisfying as my victory over his mother was, there are deep misgivings in my heart. Conrad hurt me. It bothers me that he thought I was overreacting to this situation, that he didn’t get it until seeing Russell about to kill me.
Plus, I suppose it wasn’t wise deliberately provoking Mayor Alton like that.
But really, what else can she do to me now? Raise my bounty even more? I’ve survived the Showdown people and several other murder attempts. She’d have to waste a lot more money on me if she wants to ramp up my peril.
Word must’ve already spread through the school about the failed hunting mission last night. People gawk at me more than usual as I stride in with Conrad. Then again, maybe people are wondering why I’m with Conrad at all, and what happened t
o Conrad and Siobhan. Personally, I think murder attempts between schoolmates is more grounds for gossip than a shakeup in the relationship order, but that’s just me.
Conrad draws me into a kiss before heading to his homeroom. I feel misgivings in my heart again, watching him stride away. Even when he throws me a dazzling grin over his shoulder, I can’t bring myself to smile back.
I nearly collide with Jeffrey Levy, one of the hunters from last night. We both stumble back.
I fix him with a sour look. “No, you didn’t kill me. I’m not a ghost today, so you can’t just walk through me.”
“Hey, it’s cool.” He thrusts up his hands defensively. “Look, we’re not gonna go after you again. Actually, we dissolved the school guild last night. I’ve been tearing down the posters all morning.”
I look around, realizing it. There aren’t so many signs for the guild up anymore. “So what happened? Murdering people’s not as fun in practice as it was in theory?”
He has the grace to look ashamed. “Look, we thought it was just a community protection thing. We didn’t even realize Russell planned for us to kill you.”
I sigh and turn away, letting him off the hook. I can’t be a hypocrite here and act like I thought any differently back when I was a citizen. We all grew up fearing anathemas. Anathemas are criminals who get what they deserve—that’s the line of thinking. Months ago I wouldn’t have seen anything wrong with a school guild. I wouldn’t have joined, or approved, but I didn’t get how hideous it was, either.
My steps take me towards homeroom, my thoughts swirling over the events last night. And Conrad. Whether I want him back, or what I want to do there…
Down the hallway, I spot a familiar black-haired form, batting his locker shut with one hand. Alexander Metz catches my eye and nods a greeting.
The smile I couldn’t fake for Conrad blooms across my lips. I watch him until he disappears into a classroom, a wonderful tickling sensation in the pit of my stomach. And suddenly it’s not Conrad’s lips I’m thinking about. It’s Alexander’s grip on my shoulders, his body pressed against mine. Amazement makes my brain feel light, because the truth astounds me.
It’s not Conrad I want anymore.
The revelation preoccupies me all through English class. I usually spend the period dwelling on my fractured friendship with Amanda, but today I’m caught up in other musings. I like Alexander. I like Alexander Metz. I don’t know how long it’s been, but it makes perfect sense. He’s protected me. He’s taught me to defend myself. He knows things about me that nobody else does; he knows the truth about the massacre. He gave me that machete that saved my life last night. His words pulled me out of my guilt spiral after the demise of the Showdown crew.
My life as an anathema is reshaping me into someone else, someone I wasn’t before. The new Kathryn wanted Russell’s thumb broken; she kissed Conrad just to watch Mayor Alton squirm. I’m not the same person who was fastened to Conrad’s side for three years, his faithful girlfriend. I don’t even know if Conrad could handle me as an anathema. Alexander has. Alexander can.
But does he even feel that way about me?
Conrad gave such clear signals about what he wanted. Alexander is entirely different. He’s closed off, shielded. I don’t know what’s going on behind his eyes. He doesn’t reveal his thoughts unless he has to. His feelings are hidden. I know he had a dark past. He wasn’t like me, growing up sheltered, cared for. I don’t know how to read him.
The bell rings and I file out of class with everyone else, still dwelling on him. His patient, calm voice floats through my mind. I can see his hands working the keyboard in the computer lab, the way he frowns when he’s concentrating. Has he ever had a girlfriend? Has he had a chance at one, living the way he does?
People around me are texting friends, and I notice a few startled glances my way. Then more. At first, I just dismiss them, heading down the hallway towards chemistry the same as usual. Then a group of freshman girls leaps out of my way with terror on their faces.
I halt.
This is beyond the usual anathema treatment.
I turn slowly, and everyone dodges my eyes. People are still huddled over their cell phones, staring at something, open-mouthed.
“What’s going on?” I ask the hallway.
My voice rings out clearly. There’s very little sound all of a sudden. People just scurry away.
I swerve around the corner, my insides anxious knots. I should be immune to bad news by now but something is terribly, dreadfully wrong.
Then I see Heidi. She pales at the sight of me, then tries to escape.
I won’t let her. “Heidi!” I grab her arm. “What’s going on?”
“Let go of me!” she cries breathlessly, whirling around to face me, stumbling back into a locker with a ringing clang.
“What’s the matter with you?”
Her face is pale, her eyes huge. “I thought you were joking.” Her lip wobbles. “We all thought you were joking before.”
“Joking about what?”
“I called the hotline. You better not hurt me. I have life insurance!” She holds up her cell phone defensively. “With a vendetta clause! Unless you want a million dollars added to your bounty, you better leave me alone!”
I raise my hands. “Okay, just explain this to me. I don’t know why you’re acting like this.”
She hurtles past me and dashes off down the hall. I look around the hallway. More people dodge my gaze and scramble aside to give me distance. What is happening? I am so confused right now.
Someone has to know.
Conrad. He’ll know. He’ll tell me what new rumor is circulating about me.
I flip on my phone, planning to call him, then I see how many messages I’ve missed with my phone on silent. Forty-seven, all within the last twenty minutes. Even now, new ones pour in and scroll across the top of my screen.
From my dad: Whatever you do, do not go outside unless you have friends protecting you!
And then that one is displaced by a message from my mom: DON’T LISTEN TO YOUR FATHER. I DO NOT WANT YOU LEAVING THE SCHOOL. PERIOD.
A cold feeling radiates from my chest to my fingertips. A new text comes from a number I don’t recognize. This u?
The link brings me to The Drudge Report, where the headline proclaims: Footage from Southern California Massacre recovered.
Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God.
My hands are shaking as I click the link. The video plays. It’s shaky footage from within a van, shot on my street.
“Taking up Mitch on his offer?” calls a voice on the video.
And then the girl with blonde hair and a tense expression walks up to the cameramen.
“Yes,” she says. “I know where you can find your anathema. I’ll take you there.”
The hotline. My gaze flies up to the walls, where the sheets asking for information about the Shelter Valley Massacre. Along with a 1-800 number.
The world sways. I told Heidi I killed them all. It must have meant something totally new after she saw this video. She’s already called the tip line. She’s already condemned me.
I stand there alone in the hallway, staring at my cell phone. The hallway empties out as students flee like some old western movie where the hapless locals clear the town square before a gunman comes for his victim. The entire world is about to identify me as the anathema connected with the massacre. I led a hundred people to their deaths. I’ve just become the most notorious anathema in the entire country.
I’m dead.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
“You’ve been busy.”
Russell is the last one in the hallway with me. I look up at him, feeling like I’m staring at him through a fog. Barely suppressed glee is on every pane of his face.
“Wow, the anathema behind the Shelter Valley Massacre. Who knew?” He laughs. “I’m gonna love seeing you butchered for this.
My parents keep texting. Their words scroll across the top of my screen.
&nb
sp; We are heading home now.
We are on highway one. We’ll be there in an hour…
When we get home, we’ll pack your things and come pick you up at school …
“Go away, Russell.”
“No, no. I want a picture of this moment,” he says, pulling out his own phone. “Just for the record. So I can see this for the rest of my—”
“She said go away, Russ!”
The new voice startles us both. Russell and I look up as Amanda stalks towards us. She steps between us, hostility in every line of her body.
“So,” Russell says, sneering. “You’re picking sides.”
“I’ve already picked sides. I pick my best friend, not a perverted psychopath.”
“Your best friend is already dead,” Russell spits at her. “Maybe I’ll wait for her bounty to rise and take it myself.”
Amanda suddenly shoves him back against the locker. He’s startled enough to let her. “You touch her, or you go near her again, and I’ll make you sorry.”
I stare at them both, dazed.
Amanda suddenly lashes out with her arm, hitting it against the locker. Russell stares at her in utter confusion. A malevolent smile plays across her lips. She pulls back, cupping the faintly reddened skin of her arm, rubbing it.
“Ouch, Russ.”
“What?” Russell says.
“You grabbed my arm so hard,” Amanda says, mock innocently.
“I didn’t grab your arm. You hit your own arm.”
“Yet nobody saw it. It’s just my word against yours, and I say you grabbed my arm and shook me. I wonder what other injuries I could give myself and blame on you.”
“Are you serious—”
“After all,” Amanda adds venomously, “who would ever believe I was faking them? You’re the psychopath with a history of violence. I hear your hunting guild had an epic meltdown last night because you were too crazy for them. I, on the other hand, am the leader of the dance squad. I’ll get half the school to cosign anything I say about you. Then you’ll be the anathema.”
He catches his breath, suddenly catching onto what she’s suggesting.
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