Hunted Read Online Free PDF Page B

friends, but I can see from the way his shoulders are set that he’s as aware of me as I am of him.
    What is wrong with me? I force my attention back to the girl.
    “You’d better be forewarned—he doesn’t date. I mean never . You’re better off not even thinking about him.” As if I would. I can’t ever trust a Normal with my secret. So why do I want to? All because of some stupid laugh? I don’t understand why I feel so connected to him, as if he can understand what it’s like being hated. Being hunted for his life.
    I look at the girl standing in front of me, watching me so closely. She’s pretty in a tomboy way, with bright green eyes in a slim oval face, her long brown hair held back with an elastic band. Her thoughts are as loud as any Normal’s.
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    My fingers itch to pop the buds back into my ears, but I know I can’t get away with it much longer.
    “What’re you listening to?” the girl asks, and puts one of the buds to her ears before I can stop her.
    She scrunches up her nose. “Static?” I’m tempted to tell her that my MP3 player is broken, but I go for the truth. “It’s white noise,” I say. “Some people use it to relax.” Others use it to drown out noise. Or at least I do. Without it, the city is a twenty-four-hour radio station inside my head.
    The girl hands me back my earbud.
    Be polite. Gain acceptance. Blend in. I mentally sigh, then pull the crumpled schedule out of my pocket. “You know where room 311 is? I’ve got English first period.”
    “Ohhh, Mr. Arnold. He’s a real jerk.” She purses her lips like she tastes something sour. “I’ve got him first period, too. I’m Rachel.”
    “Caitlyn.”
    “Come on,” Rachel says, “I’ll show you around.” I glance over my shoulder, but Alex is already gone.
    I’m surprised that I feel disappointed. ‘Get a hold of yourself,’ I tell myself firmly. I follow Rachel up the wide cement steps.
    The huddle of girls at the top watches us with disdain.
    We’re clearly not good enough for them. One girl in particular—a girl with bleached-blond hair who the others keep glancing at, clearly the leader of their pack—radiates with ill will. I commit her face to memory; I need to stay away from her.
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    Cheryl Rainfield
    “Hey! Whatcha staring at?” the girl says, detaching herself from the group to block my way.
    Up close, she smells of expensive perfume and bubble gum. Jealousy, anger, and fear all roil through her.
    “I wasn’t—”
    “Leave her alone, Becca,” Rachel says.
    Becca doesn’t even turn her head, like Rachel doesn’t exist. She glares at me through mosquito-slit eyes. “In this school, there’s us ParaWatch peeps, then there’s the losers too scared to make a stand, and then there’s Para-lovers.
    Where do you fit?”
    I know what I should answer. I know what I have to do to fit in. But I just can’t do it, not with this bigot. The rage in her is like a disease. “What you call losers, I call free thinkers.”
    Becca snorts. “Yeah, I figured you’d say that. You’ve got the look.”
    Well, she’s got the look of a bully. I tighten my mouth to keep myself from telling her so.
    “Listen, I saw you scoping out Alex,” Becca says.
    “Lemme give you some friendly advice. You don’t have a chance with him. You’re just new trash, that’s all. Worse than a Para.” . . . He’s mine! Not yours, girlie . . . Just as soon as I make him notice me . . .
    I break eye contact and step aside to show I don’t want a fight, though I actually want to shove her lips past her teeth. If anyone’s trash, she is.
    She blocks me again, sneering. There’s a few like her in every school.
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    “Becca, come on. Leave her alone,” Rachel says louder.
    “Why do you care?” Becca snaps. “Unless you want to get into her pants?” The other girls cackle.
    Rachel looks at her feet . . . . oh god . . . not now . . . The shame emanating from her is so strong it almost pushes me to the