Hunted (17 page)

“We’ll be careful,” Rachel says.

Emily strides up to Rachel and reaches for her hand.

Rachel’s face lights up.

“What will you be careful of?” Emily asks.

“Careful to . . . watch out for homophobes,” Rachel says.

“But why . . . ?” Emily scrunches up her nose as she looks at me and Alex, then back at Rachel.

“Didn’t I tell you how Caitlyn put that homophobe Becca in her place in front of all her peeps?”

“Yeah!” Emily beams at me. “You were super.” I shake my head. “Rachel’s helped me lots of times, too. Without her, I would’ve been lost my first few days here.”

Emily tilts her head, looks at me seriously. “Not everyone would do what you did, you know. Stand up for us.

Most people look the other way or join in.”
The way people do to Paras.
But I can’t say that.

The loudspeaker crackles. “Attention students. You’ll be happy to know that our resident ParaTrooper, Mr. White, has caught three more Paras. We now have the highest catch rate in the country! We are safer because of him.” Rachel’s face pales. Alex squeezes my arm, empathy 223

Cheryl Rainfield

and worry for me in his touch. I jerk away, not wanting to fall apart where people can see me and put it together.

“Caitlyn—”

“No! Leave me alone!”
I break away from them.

“Gotta get to class.” I yank out my phone. Anyone sees me, they’ll probably think I’m texting the good news. I log onto my anonymizer, then to my blog. “People you know are getting taken away. Your neighbors, your friends, your family. Are you really going to let this happen? Yes,
you!
You can make a difference. Speak out before it’s too late.” e

First period, Ms. Edwards’s class. I approach the room slowly. Mr. Temple’s at the front, the wall in shadow behind him. Students sit quietly, not laughing or talking, their backs straight against their chairs, their heads bowed. What is Mr. Temple doing here? And why is everyone so quiet?

It feels wrong—worse than yesterday.

Do the others really care about Paras? Or are they just scared that an avid ParaWatch member will mistakenly finger them?

I open myself up to the room. People are starting to feel uneasy. Many of them never knew an illegal Para, never saw someone they knew be taken away until the last few days. But that’s not the only uneasiness. There’s something more—some feeling of danger.

Do I go in and pretend everything’s all right? I peek in again. I recognize the back of that blond head, sitting right behind my chair—Daniel.

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Mr. Temple looks up sharply. His mouth smiles, but his eyes stay cold. He gestures to the video camera sitting on his desk. It’s pointed at me, its red light steady and unblinking.

I walk slowly down the aisle to my seat. Mr. Temple repositions the camera so that I’m caught in its view.

“Caitlyn, be careful!”
Rachel thinks at me.

“Ah, how touching. One of your little Normal friends
wants to protect you,”
Daniel sends.
“At least until her life
is threatened. Or her family’s.”

“Sir, is that a video camera?” Rachel asks, her voice barely polite.

“Yes, Rachel, it is,” Mr. Temple says. “Each row will be taped for several weeks this term.” His gaze fastens on mine. “It’s a new
experimental
method of teaching, one that I hope will bring results.”

My skin tightens. Mr. Temple’s not even bothering to hide his suspicions about me. But it looks like he won’t finger me and risk the fine without getting proof. It almost makes me want to laugh. It’s not like my talent can show up on camera. What does he think he’s going to catch?

“Isn’t that against our constitutional rights?” a boy asks. “Don’t you have to get our permission—
sir
—before taping us?”

I beam at the boy. He reminds me of Paul. An undercurrent of rebellion fills the room, laced with a growing sympathy for what Paras go through. I sit up straighter.

“It’s just a few brave words in a classroom. Don’t fool
yourself. You should align yourself with your true allies.

There’s still time to join us.”
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Cheryl Rainfield

I don’t respond.

“You are just as stubborn as Dad was!”
Mr. Temple steeples his fingers together, looking down his nose at the boy who spoke. “Of course it’s not an in-fringement of your rights, not when it’s part of an educational program. Now take out your textbooks and read chapter forty-two, then complete the assignment at the end.”

“But sir—you’re not going to keep teaching Ms. Edwards’s class, are you?” the girl next to me says, chewing on the ends of her hair. “I mean, I know you said she was out sick, but usually we get a sub.”
. . . don’t think I can
stand being taught much longer by a toad like you . . . not
that you’re actually teaching us anything . . .

Laughter bubbles up inside me. I bite the inside of my cheek, try to keep my face blank.

Mr. Temple taps his pen against the edge of his desk.

“Yes, I will continue to teach you until Ms. Edwards is feeling well enough to resume her duties.” He looks at me, the corners of his mouth turning upward, his cheeks barely moving. “Though I don’t think it will be for quite a while.”

“Oh, maaaan,” someone groans.

“Enough! Open your textbooks and read silently.” The girl next to me slaps her books onto her desk.

I open my textbook and stare at the page, moving my gaze across the words but not taking them in.

I don’t like the way Mr. Temple answered the question, as if it was a private joke between the two of us. Having Mr. Temple so close to me makes me uneasy—like 226

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having a razorblade in my pocket. One wrong move, and the blood could be mine.

I glance up at Mr. Temple. He’s watching me from the shadows, expressionless, like he’s waiting for something.

“Para-lovers won’t survive the revolution,”
Daniel sends urgently, his words ripping through me. His mind-voice grows louder than the roar of a train.
“We’re the only
ones who can help you. Don’t throw it away, Caitlyn!”
Pain splinters through my head, gouging into my eyes.

I stare blindly at the page and visualize an invisible shield of light enclosing my mind, separating me from Daniel.

“You can try to shut me out, but I know you can still
hear me. I hate this—but if you won’t join me, I’ll let them
destroy you. Your Normal friends won’t try to protect you;
they’ll be too scared.”

“You can’t just kill people because they’re afraid.”

“I can’t let them enslave and kill us anymore. I don’t
understand how you can. But maybe you don’t know the
hell it is because you haven’t lived it.”
Pain explodes through my head, as if someone threw a handful of marbles at my exposed brain.

I reach for Daniel, but he’s not trying to hurt me, not right now. He really is trying to convince me to join his side.

I scowl at my textbook. I’ve been reading the same sentence over and over. But it’s hard to care about social studies when my world is falling apart.

Mr. Temple steps out of the shadows, his dark gaze on me. I stare at the page until my vision blurs.

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Cheryl Rainfield

My head is pounding, bright pain behind my eyes.

I have to figure out what Daniel is up to. How he plans on killing Normals. If the pain is coming from him . . . if he’s hurting someone now . . .

I reach out toward him again. Rage and fear roar like a tornado. But not pain.

I yank away. The pain and pressure keep getting worse.

I get that full feeling that comes before a nosebleed. I have to make the pain stop.

I press my fingers to my temples. My scalp is hot, itchy with sweat, the pain so bad it feels like my head will explode.

Terror nips at the edges of my mind.

I shove it away, but it comes back stronger. It’s not Daniel; I am sure of it. He’s not this afraid.

I let down my shield. Screams rush in, and a burst of heat engulfs me. There’s a crackling, roaring sound as the heat licks at me.

Fire! Someone’s trapped in a fire!

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CHAPTER 23

My pen skids across the page.

Mr. Temple steps toward me.

I drop my textbook on the floor, then bend down to pick it up, shielding my face from Mr. Temple.

“Something wrong?”
Daniel sends, his voice mocking.

The screams are so loud I can barely concentrate. My throat tightens as if the terror is my own.

People are trapped, right here in this school. And they’re going to die if someone doesn’t save them.

They cry for help with every atom of their panic-crazed minds. Their fear gives them a volume that’s piercing.

I have to force myself to stay in my seat, to not rush out to find them. The camera is still recording, and I can feel Daniel and Mr. Temple waiting for me to break. I have to find another way to save the students. And I have to hurry.

Mr. Temple walks down the aisle, coming to a stop beside me. “Are you feeling all right, Ms. Ellis?” I look right back at him. “I’m fine.”

“You seem to be sweating.”

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Cheryl Rainfield

“Something I ate.”

“Ah.” Mr. Temple smiles a thin smile. “Do you need to be excused?” His excitement crackles through me like electricity, sharp and painful.

It’s the perfect excuse for me to slip away—but it feels wrong.

Mr. Temple knows about the fire, I’m sure of it. Maybe he even wants to use it to prove that I’m a Para. That I sensed something.

“No, thank you, sir,” I say.

Mr. Temple looks disappointed. “Then get back to work.” He stands there until I start writing out the assignment. Then he walks to the front of the room.

I’m shaking all over now, the panic so bad it’s a struggle to breathe. I force myself to draw air into my lungs, then pull up a feeling of calm. I direct it toward the fear, honing in on one person, trying to make my thought-voice sound like theirs.
“I have to stay calm. Where am I?”

. . . the auditorium . . . drama class is always here . . .

Mr. Michaels, he said . . . but the fire . . . it’s too late now

. . . we’re all going to die . . .

“No, we’re not. Someone will hear us—”

. . . no one will hear us! . . . too far from the other
classrooms . . . Tom’s been hammering on that door . . . no
one comes . . . our cells can’t get a signal . . . please god,
help me and I’ll be a better person, I swear . . . I don’t want
to die . . . it’s too soon, I’m not ready! I only just found
someone I love! And we haven’t even . . .

I break contact. The voice—it felt familiar. Emily’s voice. Rachel’s Emily. I shudder.

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Two boys are snickering behind me. I want to scream at them—“Don’t you know people could die?” But of course they don’t—how could they?

Pens scratch against paper, keyboard keys click. The wall clock ticks loudly, counting out each second.

Sweat beads on my forehead. I don’t know what to do.

I can’t help anyone if the ParaTroopers take me away. But asking Alex and Rachel to help means putting them in danger.

I smell burning hair.

I reach out to Alex and Rachel.
“The auditorium’s on
fire—people are trapped inside. Will you help? It could
mean people suspect you—”

“I’m in,”
Alex thinks at me.
“Just tell me what to do.”

“Of course I’ll help,”
Rachel adds.
“Wait, the auditorium? But that’s where Emily has drama!”
Panic fills her.

“She’s there. She’s okay so far. But if you’re going to
help her, you need to stay calm, okay, Rachel? You need to
get out of class. Rachel, pull the fire alarm. Alex, run as fast
as you can to the auditorium. Something’s blocking the
doors. I’ll meet you there.”

My vision blurs, white spots dancing in front of me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, focus on the kids in the auditorium. Heat beats at my body, pressing me down.

“Mr. Temple? Mr. Temple?” Rachel waves her hand wildly.

Mr. Temple frowns at her. “Yes, Ms. Levy?”

“I need to be excused. Got to go to the bathroom.” Mr. Temple sighs. “Now, right this minute? Is it really that urgent? You can’t hold it for another thirty minutes?” 231

Cheryl Rainfield

“No, sir.”

Mr. Temple shakes his head, muttering under his breath.

Rachel makes a tiny whimpering sound.

“All right, go,” Mr. Temple says, turning his back on her.

“Thank you, sir.” Rachel rushes out of the room.

Mr. Temple’s staring at me again.

I scribble words in my notebook, not caring if they don’t make sense, just wanting to look like I’m writing.

The seconds tick by, agonizingly slowly.

My lungs feel clogged with smoke. I cough, deep and hard.

“Something troubling you?”
Daniel sends.

“Daniel! They’re people, just like you and me. Help
them!”

“Help who? I don’t hear anyone.”
I stifle my coughing. Come on, Rachel! What’s taking so long?

The heat is almost unbearable, flames licking against my skin. I
have
to free them.

I grab my books—

The fire alarm clangs, piercingly loud.

Students cheer and jump up, scraping back chairs and scattering desks.

Mr. Temple’s lips tighten into a thin line. “Get up quietly, class, and walk to the door in an orderly manner. You are high school students, not kindergarteners.” I push my way into the lineup.

Daniel hovers behind me like a shadow.

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Mr. Temple looks at me hard as he passes us. “Daniel, stay close to Ms. Ellis, please. She may need assistance.” He grips the doorknob. “All right, class, you may exit!” he shouts. “Stick together now.”

He opens the door, and we stumble out, the clanging louder. The hall surges with students, most of them excited to be missing class. I blink sweat out of my eyes.

Daniel grips my arm, his mouth tight and grim.
“You
know what you have to do to make this stop.”
I jerk my arm out of his grasp.

I have to lose him, fast.

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