Free Anathema by Lillian Bowman

eliminated crime from our city. The rise in real estate prices have driven most of the lower income population straight out of our town to our crime ridden neighbor.
    The theater staff is used to young people bailing on school—as long as we pay our way in. There are always posters in the theater threatening people who sneak in or pirates planning to record the movies with loss of citizenship.
    Watch anathemas on the big screen! Don’t become one yourself. This establishment prosecutes copyright infringement.
    I snort when my eyes sweep over the familiar sign. Guess I have a free pass now if I ever want one.
    When we reach the box office, Conrad’s face fills with disgust at the sight of the cheesy movie poster for Elena Swilling’s movie. He launches into an argument with Amanda, trying to convince us to go to “Ninja Commandoes IV: Battle of Blood Island”.
    Amanda wins out. “Go without us, then.”
    “Fine. Whatever.” Conrad throws up his hands. “Let’s see, ‘Father May I Torture Audiences?’”
    I bat his arm as he grins at me. Amanda rolls her eyes and huffs out a breath that flutters her hair.
    Conrad is no longer smiling when he wedges into the seat next to me in the movie theater, shifting restlessly all through the trailers. The tinkling notes of music start up, and Conrad mutters again, “This already sucks.”
    “That’s the whole point,” Amanda snaps. “Feel free to go to the masterpiece about ninja commandoes.”
    I try, like usual, to find the middle ground. “This is going to be so awful that it’s going to be fantastic.”
    Nobody speaks after that. Amanda’s arms are crossed, the air crackling with her irritation. She’s still miffed with me. Conrad sighs loudly and slouches lower in his seat.
    My gaze keeps unfocusing from the screen. The theater is nearly empty this early in the day. Between Amanda in a bad mood over Conrad, and Conrad discreetly trying to grope my leg rather than watch the screen, nobody is laughing at the awfulness of the movie. When a movie is this bad and no one is laughing, it stops being fun. It just becomes a lousy movie.
    It depresses me. Elena Swilling movies are about laughable badness. Not only that, but laughable badness I can enjoy with Amanda. The whole experience has been ruined.
    An ache forms inside me. Amanda was right. I shouldn’t have invited Conrad.
    Misery descends over me. I finally disentangle myself from Conrad’s grasp and head out into the lobby, planning to hit the bathroom. The time of this precious, stolen freedom is ticking down.
    I walk to the sinks to wash my hands. Then I notice the way the janitor near the door keeps swiping his mop across the same spot of the floor. Goosebumps prickle up my back. I slowly wash my hands, monitoring him out of the corner of my eye.
    He darts brief, fleeting glances between my face and some device on his belt. I see what’s on his belt, then: a cell phone.
    My stomach swoops. He’s comparing my image to an image on his phone.
    He must have the same phone app everyone else does: the anathema database. He knows. His gaze scalds my back.
    I feel like a mechanical puppet, moving to the hand dryer, trying to be casual. My heart is pounding. Every instinct screams at me not to panic, not to overreact. It’s like dealing with a predator in the wild: break into a run and they start running after you.
    Just knowing I’m an anathema doesn’t mean he’s going to act on it. My reaction could be the most fatal thing to me now.
    For all my forced calm, though, my stomach gives a terrible lurch when he blocks the door as I try to walk through it. A fleeting instant passes as we just look at each other. I know I must look frightened. There’s an apology in his face. He even smiles regretfully.
    “It’s not personal, lady. It’s too much money. I really need it.”
    “No.” The word escapes me.
    Then it all happens at once. He’s grabbing me, catching me in leathery arms, and I begin to scream my