Anathema by Lillian Bowman Read Free Book Online Page B

stood there rooted in place long after she slipped away. Far below me, the man’s body lay, his crimson blood swirling away with the tide.

CHAPTER NINE
     
    Ms. Dodd boots me out of her Comp Sci class with incredible speed. I’m transferred to Mr. Dearborn’s fourth period class and paired with a new partner… The other odd one out.
    It shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it does. Nerves jump in my stomach as I join my new lab partner. I’ve never had a class with Alexander Metz before. He is leaning back in his seat before the glowing computer screen, arms folded, legs kicked up. He seems to consume the space around him. Even as he gazes abstractly at the screen, there’s an air about him of calm, expectant waiting like a great lion poised to pounce. He looks dangerously alert. When I tentatively take the seat beside him, he just arches his eyebrows in silent question.
    “We’re partners now.”
    “Partners,” he repeats. “In the middle of the semester.” His voice startles me. A rich, smooth timbre. I’ve never heard him speak before.
    “I was transferred from Ms. Dodd’s class. She, uh, didn’t like me anymore.”
    A corner of his mouth twists in a knowing way. Of course he’d know. He’s the other anathema. He must know the teachers who dislike us on principle.
    “I guess I have an obligation to tell you,” I admit, “I’m not very good at this whole JavaScript thing. My old partner basically did everything and I leeched off her. So, uh, there’s that.”
    “Ah.” He considers that a long moment, looking between me and the screen. Then he scoots his seat back and props his legs up. “Then you can make up for it now. All yours.”
    I stare at him. “Wait. What?”
    “Best way to learn is to do it yourself.”
    I stare at him. “But I don’t know how to do this.”
    His gaze focuses squarely on me. There’s a remoteness to it like we’re speaking across a chasm to one another. “You probably care about getting good grades,” he says. “I’m guessing you’re aiming for an Asylum Scholarship.”
    “You’re not?”
    “I’m not. So I suggest you do the work. That or it’s not getting done.” With that, he leaves me at it.
    I can’t believe it. He’s sticking me with all the work. “It’s not like I intentionally avoided the work with my old partner—”
    “I don’t care,” he said. “Again, you do the work, or it’s not getting done.
    Suddenly it hits me: this guy is just a slacker.
    With a start, I realize I don’t know him at all, for all the gossip I’d heard, for all I’ve wondered. I even think of him with two names, ‘Alexander Metz’. I don’t know why my mind always attaches the last name. I don’t even know if he has a nickname like Al or Alex or Xander…
    Thrown, I twist the computer screen towards me, trying to realign my perception of the boy next to me.
    “So,” I stumble awkwardly through conversation, “what do people call you?”
    “Alexander.”
    “Nickname wise, I mean.”
    “Alexander,” he says flatly.
    “Okay. Just Alexander then. I’m Kathryn.”
    He just stares at me. His hair has fallen over his brows, his beautiful features arranged in a look of calm disinterest.
    “Right. You know my name. I guess you would. You’ve been at this school a long time.” Heat flushes my cheeks. With his steady blue gaze on me I feel more idiotic by the moment. “I probably shouldn’t have bothered telling you my name.”
    “Are we doing this?” Alexander interrupts me.
    “Doing… what?”
    “Talking?” He points between us. He leans towards me suddenly, a spark of intensity kindling within the depths of his eyes. “You’re not a citizen anymore. Very sorry to hear it. But don’t assume that creates any sort of camaraderie between us.”
    A part of me wants to withdraw, but I swallow my hurt feelings. Instead, I try seeing it from his perspective. “I get it. You’ve been a loner all these years, and here I am, someone who never talked to