The Headhunters Race (Headhunters #1) by Kimberly Afe Read Free Book Online

and goes ahead and dumps in a handful of dirt anyway. “Okay, bend over, girl.”
    I lean over the sink while Zita pours the murky mixture over my hair and massages it in. It’s gritty and gross.
    “Hand me that old shirt in the corner,” says Zita.
    I’m looking upside down at McCoy while he retrieves the old shirt she uses as her dust rag. She wrings out my hair and then places the shirt over top and squeezes out the excess water. “I wish I had a comb,” she says, flipping my head up and steering my behind back to the ground.
    “It’s okay, I can use my fingers,” I say.
    McCoy dashes into their room. “Boom has one, hold on.”
    I lean my head back in defeat. He’s determined to help me, to make me feel obligated to help him in return, but his niceties aren’t going to work on me.
    My head is heavy when I bring it forward again. Zita takes the comb and carefully runs it through my entire head, removing the gritty parts. This time when she steps back, she looks pleased. “Better. Now we need to do something about that pale face of yours.”
    Oh, great, I think. She’ll probably want to spread mud on my face too and the next thing I know that’s what she’s doing. She darkens my brows, uses a piece of soft-charred wood to carefully apply eyeliner, and randomly rubs splotches of dirt over my face and neck. “Well you don’t exactly look like a Greek beauty, but you don’t look like you. You look like someone people shouldn’t mess with.”
    She smiles.
    I smile back. As long as I don’t look like me. That’s all that matters.
    McCoy leans against the doorway. I catch a look of satisfaction on his face.
    Boom hobbles in and takes a look at me too, through his one good eye. “That should do it,” he says, nodding. He looks as pleased as Zita. He hands me a hoodie. “Use this and pull the hood over until after you start the race.”
    I take the hoodie from him and immediately smell McCoy all over it. “Thank you,” I manage to say, but I’m not planning to use it. If I look as unrecognizable as they’ve made me out to be, I won’t need it.
    “You better get to the main center,” says Boom. “Good luck and Godspeed to you both.”
    I nod my appreciation to Boom and turn to Zita. “You coming to see me off?”
    Zita exchanges a look with Boom. “I can’t. I might be recognized and you’re supposed to be me, remember?” she says with a smile.
    Good point. I hadn’t thought of that. She pulls me to her tightly. “You get him, Avene.”
    “I’ll be back for you,” I whisper and grab my water bottle.
    We head out, McCoy ahead of me, Zita and Boom watching us from behind, my heart pounding like a hammer. What if someone recognizes me? Will they throw me back in prison, or something else, like a town hanging? I don’t want to think about it. I only want to think about running. Running and the freedom that comes with a win.
    McCoy turns back to me. “Stick with me,” he says. “People know Zita and I are friends.”
    There’s just no getting away from him and his never-ending quest to assist me.
    The main center is crazy when we arrive. People stand all along the perimeter. It’s loud with buzz, people acting obnoxiously. McCoy finds a spot near the front door, and several prisoners skirt out of his way while I reluctantly follow. I realize he has quite an effect on people. A few minutes later my heart sinks to my belly when several hatch doors high in the walls open. Rifles are inserted, trained on the prisoners below. A guard calls out the first name and a prisoner I don’t recognize walks to the front entrance where several guards with rifles cuff and remove him from the premises with a cheer from the crowd.
    One by one, the race candidates are cuffed and removed while the remaining prisoners shout their well-wishes. I check out every one of the prisoners who will be competing with me for their freedom, and while I’m scrutinizing a particularly large man, I hear the name I’ve been