Hunted

introductions are always polite. Y’all already know Venus,” she said, and then moved on quickly. “So I’ll start with Elliott.”
    A redheaded kid stepped forward. Okay, dying and un-dying hadn’t improved this kid any. He was still pudgy and pale with a frizzy ball of carrot-colored, uncombed hair sticking up in odd places on his head. “I’m Elliott,” he said.
    Everyone nodded at him. “Next is Montoya,” Stevie Rae said.
    A short, Hispanic guy who looked seriously thuggish with his sagging pants and his multiple piercings nodded his head, sending his thick dark hair waving around his face. “Hi,” he said with just a touch of an accent and a surprisingly cute, warm smile.
    “And that’s Shannon Compton.” Stevie Rae ran her first and last name together, so that it sounded like Shannoncompton.
    “Shannoncompton? Hey, didn’t you read the spotlight piece in The Vagina Monologues last year at the school performance?” Damien asked.
    Her pretty face brightened. “Yeah, that was me.”
    “I remember because I just love The Vagina Monologues . They’re so empowering,” Damien said. “And then right after the show you . . . um . . . ” His voice trailed off and he fidgeted.
    “I died?” Shannoncompton added helpfully.
    “Yeah, exactly,” Damien said.
    “Oh, gosh, that’s too bad,” Jack said.
    Aphrodite sighed. “She’s not dead anymore, morons.”
    “And this is Sophie.” Stevie Rae said quickly, frowning at Aphrodite, who was already sounding tipsy. A tall brunette stepped a little forward and gave us a tentative friendly smile. “Hi,” she said.
    We waved and muttered hellos. I was actually feeling better about the red fledglings now that they were becoming individuals—and not individuals who were trying to chomp on us. Or at least at that moment they weren’t.
    “Dallas is next.” Stevie Rae pointed to a kid standing behind Venus. At the sound of his name he kinda slouched around her and mumbled what sounded like a version of hi. He would have been totally unremarkable looking if it hadn’t been for the quick intelligence in his eyes and the kinda flirty smile he threw Stevie Rae. Hm, I thought, wonder if something’s going on there? “Dallas was born in Houston, which we all think is odd and confusing,” Stevie Rae was saying.
    The kid shrugged. “It’s a gross story my dad tells about him and my mom making me in Dallas. I never wanted the details.”
    “Ugh, parent sex,” Shaunee said.
    “Completely disgusting,” Erin agreed.
    I could see a little laugh ripple through the group of red fledglings at the Twins’ comments, making the tension that had been hanging between our two groups begin to really loosen up.
    “Next is Anthony, who everyone calls Ant.”
    Ant waved awkwardly at us and said hi. Well, it was obvious why everyone called him Ant. He was one of those little kids. You know, the ones that look, like, ten when they’re really fourteen and supposed to have gone through puberty already. Then, as if to provide the biggest contrast possible, Stevie Rae moved on to the next kid. “This is Johnny B.”
    Johnny B was tall and built. He reminded me of Heath with his athletic body and the easy confidence with which he held himself. “Hey,” he said, flashing white teeth and obviously checking out the Twins, who raised their brows at him and checked him out right back.
    “Next is Gerarty. She’s the best artist I’ve ever known. She’s started to decorate parts of the tunnels. It’s gonna look majorly cool when she gets done.” Stevie Rae beamed at yet another blonde, only Gerarty wasn’t all tall and Barbie-like. She was pretty, but her blond hair was more dishwater than platinum, and cut in a seventies shag. She nodded at us and looked uncomfortable.
    “And last but not least is Kramisha.”
    A black girl twitched out of the group. It was a testament to how distracted I’d been with Venus and Aphrodite and Stevie Rae that I hadn’t noticed her before then. She had on a form-fitting bright yellow shirt cut low to show the top of her black lace bra and a pair of high-waisted, skintight cropped jeans that were cinched up with a wide leather belt that matched her chunky gold shoes. Her hair was cut geometrically into a short poof on her head, and half of it was dyed bright orange.
    “Let’s get it straight right now that I’m not sharin’ my bed with no one,” Kramisha said, weaving her head around and looking bored and pissed off at the