Hunted Read Online Free PDF Page A

shopkeeper only allowed two schoolchildren in at a time and kept a strict watch at the door, like a bouncer at a nightclub. There were about twenty kids standing in the queue outside, messing around and texting their friends while they waited to be allowed in. Callum nodded at a couple of kids from his class as he passed, and they nodded back.
    He got along with most of his classmates just fine, even if he didn’t mix with them much. He had to keep normal kids at a distance. He’d learned that the hard way at primary school. Callum had a few friends back then, but it hadn’t been easy to hold on to them when they kept catching him staring at things they couldn’t see. One day, whispers started going around the play-ground and Callum found himself spending break time alone.
    In the hallways of Marlock High School, all the talk was about the latest teenage murder victim. Callum shoved his rugby boots into his locker and pulled out his math books as the gossip echoed around him.
    â€œIt’s got to be something to do with vampires!” said one girl.
    Someone laughed. “Don’t be stupid. We’re not in a movie!”
    â€œHonest. They said there was writing in blood .”
    â€œOr maybe it’s gangsters,” said another voice. “A drug ring, taking revenge …”
    The laughing girl put on a ghoulish voice: “Where will they strike next?” Her friends broke into nervous giggles.
    Callum banged his locker shut.
    Hugh Mayes from Callum’s class, standing next to him, gave his own locker door a sympathetic slam. “Girls, eh?”
    â€œToo daft,” Callum agreed. Gran was right about the media stirring up rumors and panic.
    The morning passed even more slowly than usual. Callum almost dozed off in math and geography after the horror-filled race in his dream and the sleepless night that had followed, but Hugh and his mate Andrew kept giving him helpful pokes in the ribs with their pencils. He managed not to fall asleep over his books, but he was feeling pretty exhausted by lunchtime.
    Callum dumped his books in his locker again after his final class of the morning and headed to lunch. The stairwell outside the cafeteria was crowded as usual. One girl, coming down the stairs towards Callum, was dressed in flowing Victorian mourning, her long black skirt glittering with sequins.
    Callum had just stepped aside to let the ghost float past when he realized that it wasn’t a ghost at all, just that ridiculous New Age girl, Melissa Roper, her black school uniform accessorized with tasseled Indian silk scarves and assorted healing crystals. Other girls wore foundation and eye shadow; Melissa tattooed the backs of her hands with henna. Today she had on a jingling collection of shiny crucifixes on a silver chain. Protection against Dracula?
    Callum grinned in spite of himself. Of course—it was her voice he’d heard that morning by his locker, suggesting that the serial murders were done by vampires. Trust Melissa. His grin faded, though, as she met his eye and smiled back shyly. Melissa, with her alternative dress sense and her goofy ideas, hadn’t learned the art of keeping her head down. She attracted attention—the sort of attention Callum worked hard to avoid. He felt a bit sorry for her, but not enough to want to talk to her. With a half-hearted wave, he turned to head into the cafeteria.
    â€œHey, wait, Callum!”
    Callum groaned inwardly. It didn’t look like he had much choice now.
    â€œYou were there when Chloe was going on about those murders being done by a drug ring, weren’t you?” Melissa asked, stopping halfway down the stairs as a boy pushed his way past her. “What do you think?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Callum answered shortly. He didn’t have time for Melissa’s latest conspiracy theory. He was hungry, and the tips of his fingers were tingling annoyingly, as though his hands had fallen