HUNTED

Chapter 4

“And what is the answer to this question? Class? Hello, is anyone awake? Yes, you Thatcher.”

          “Hm?” Thatcher looked up, shaking himself from a daze. A complicated Chemistry formula was written in green marker on the white board at the front of the class. Mr. Matthews stood red-faced behind his desk, pen in hand, hands on his waist expectantly. A few classmates giggled at Thatcher. Heat rose to his cheeks.

          “Good grief.” Mr. Matthews mumbled. He stepped out from behind his desk and strode through the rows of lab tables until he reached Liza, who sat two rows away from Thatcher alphabetically. She was asleep, head pillowed on her arms. Mr. Matthews grabbed a textbook off another student’s desk and slammed it down next to Liza’s head. She jumped, her head springing up and her chair shooting back.

Again classmates giggled. Thatcher straightened in his chair, watching his cousin with wide cautious eyes. Her face was slate gray, her chest rising and falling at a quick pace. Her knuckles were white from the intensity with which she was gripping the sides of her chair. The expression on her face was pained and for a moment, Thatcher worried she would have another panic attack. It had been days since the first one, but by the magnitude of Liza’s screams at two in the morning, he knew she was on edge.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you two. You used to be so attentive in class, especially you Mr. Arcos. Now you’re either asleep, in la-la-land, or not here at all.” Mr. Matthews rambled angrily. “Maybe I should call home…”

Color returned to Liza’s face. Thatcher let out a deep breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. She caught his stare and forced a feeble smile.

There was a knock on the door then, calling the attention of the entire class. Everyone’s heads swiveled toward the small window in the door and the shadow that crossed it. Thatcher knew from past experience that everyone wished it was them getting drawn from class. Of late, however, he found himself wishing that it wasn’t for him and he could just sit in class to experience a tinge of normalcy.

Mr. Matthews walked toward the door, muttering something about how this class would never go anywhere with all the interruptions. He opened the door a crack. He was about to step out into the hallway when the door swung open, slamming loudly against an abandoned chalkboard.

Addison stood on the other end of the doorway wearing tight black spandex pants and a white The Killers tee. As always, her whip was tied around her narrow hips like a belt. The expression she wore frightened Thatcher. Her lips were pressed together and her already dark eyes seemed darker. They fell on Thatcher first, then Liza, and her expression eased. Addison ducked beneath Mr. Matthews’s outstretched arm and walked toward Thatcher. She bent over and whispered into his ear.

“Casper’s back.”

A chill rushed down Thatcher’s spine. He shot up from his chair and grabbed his backpack. Liza’s face went blank. She grabbed her bag and hurried to the front of the class. Addison relayed the message to the other girl, and her face turned so white Thatcher worried she might faint.

“Sorry to barge in,” Addison said, directing her words to a flabbergasted Mr. Matthews. “I just… these two need to be dismissed.” She grabbed Thatcher by the elbow and gestured for Liza to leave.