Free Anathema by Lillian Bowman Page B

thousand dollars.
    Five thousand.
    Ice sweeps through me.
    “Oh my God,” Amanda says. “Who did that?”
    My gaze shoots up to Conrad. I know immediately. “Your mom.”
    “What?” Conrad says.
    “What?” Amanda says.
    “It was your mom.” I’m sure of it. “She did it. It was your mom, Conrad. She threatened me at your birthday. She said I had to get out of your life or she’d get me out. This is what she was talking about.” Four thousand dollars is nothing to Ms. Alton. Nothing at all.
    “No way,” Conrad says, just as Amanda breathes, “I’ll strangle her.”
    He turns on her. “Don’t say that. My mom didn’t do this.”
    “I will strangle her,” Amanda repeats again. “She paid money to Kat’s bounty, all because she can’t let her precious boy date an anathema!”
    “Shut up, you’re wrong!”
    I can’t take this. The walls of the movie theater seem to be folding in, closing down on me. My legs turn me around and begin carrying me towards the door, a great rushing sound in my ears. I don’t notice when they stop arguing. Barely notice them rushing to catch up to my side. The janitor could come at me again and I wouldn’t even notice through the haze in my brain.
    For the first time ever I realize how likely it is I’m going to die.
    I won’t escape this.
    It’s like I’ve wandered into someone else’s life and I’m not sure how to escape again.
    Amanda jerks open the passenger side door to her car, and I hear her blistering words lash out, tell Conrad, “We’re fine, she made it to the car alive, no thanks to your mom. Now just go away. Go away!”
    It doesn’t occur to me until I’m hunched down in my seat, and we’re on Highway One again, that Conrad isn’t there with us. “What will he do?” I ask Amanda numbly. “We can’t leave him.”
    “It’s my car, and I’m leaving him. He can hitchhike. Or pay for a taxi. Or get a free drink with a medium popcorn. Maybe his beloved mommy can give him a ride. Who cares.”
    “I care. That’s my boyfriend.”
    “He’s an idiot. His mom did this and he won’t admit it.”
    A sigh escapes my lips. There are no cars around, so I dare to sit up and gaze through the cold glass. Far below us, the ocean throws itself against the jagged cliffs. My throat hurts. The janitor’s sad-eyed, apologetic smile burns inside my mind.
    “It’s not personal, lady. I really need the money.”
    People will do truly awful things for money.That website was right. The glass is half-empty from now on.
    “Do you need to go to a hospital?” Amanda asks me.
    “No hospital. I got booted off Mom and Dad’s health insurance as soon as I lost citizenship. It’s some sort of rescission clause.” My voice sounds distant to my own ears. Dead.
    “This sucks.” Amanda hits the steering wheel with the flat of her palm. “This really sucks. You’re never going to have a normal life again.”
    My head throbs dully.
    “So how’d you fight him off?” she asks me.
    “The manager intervened. He said the janitor guy shouldn’t be hunting at work.” My bitter laugh hurts my sore throat. “He said there are young mothers and children around. They didn’t come to the movie theater to see people killed.”
    “Of course they don’t want to see you killed,” Amanda says. “You probably look like those women’s daughters. Or remind them of themselves when they were younger. If you think about it, your best chance of survival lies in the fact that everyone who knows you likes you.”
    It was nice of her to say. It’s a huge exaggeration, though. Just look at Siobhan.
    Then Amanda says something else that shocks me. “Or maybe you should just get a patron.”
    For a moment, I don’t understand her words. Then they materialize into something that makes more sense in my mind, but they can’t really be the right words. “What?”
      “A patron, Kat. You know, like those websites where rich old men hook up with young anathemas—”
    “I know what