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a local mechanic, had originally been sentenced to twenty-five years in prison for the murders of several young women. The state paroled him after only ten years, since he had been a model prisoner.
    I clench the article in my hand, crumpling the newsprint. The date on the story is from five years ago. The news clipping isn’t random. It’s Their way of signaling our next target. They weren’t happy about quickly dispatching Alders last night, and now They’re ready to hunt again.
    I could ignore Them like Alekto wants me to, not go out tonight to get rid of the man in the article. Really, I’d like to never hand down another justice, to just live my life like an average girl. But that’s the fool’s errand, as my grandmother used to say. I tried it once, and the outcome was a hundred times worse than anything before or since. My grandmother might even still be alive if I hadn’t lost control so severely.
    A little control is better than none at all.
    I jam the clipping into my pocket before hanging my coat in the locker. After closing the metal door, I slowly walk to the cafeteria, dreading the half hour I will be forced to spend in the company of West County High’s student body.
    In the few weeks since I left Virginia, I’ve forgotten how grueling school can be. The constant attention, the judging and weighing. It’s like being under a microscope. They, however, love it.
    In my mind They keep up a constant dialogue as I maneuver down the hallway. They can read the sins of any man, and one of Their favorite pastimes is to tell me every little thing a person has done. High school is full of sinners.
    Oh, that one cheated on the girl who gave herself to him.
    That one’s a liar. Liar! And he had lustful thoughts about his teacher. We should punish him.
    What about that one? He doesn’t pray in church; instead he stares at the breasts of pious women.
    Scandalous!
    I ignore Them, looking down so I don’t have to make eye contact with the boys I pass. There are a few that They don’t comment on. Obviously not every guy is bad, but They can make something as small as stealing a cookie sound like a capital offense. For the most part I try to ignore Their whisperings.
    They never confess the wrongs of women. Early on I asked Them about this, but Their only answer was to start howling about Alekto’s betrayal and the man who stole her away. The sound was loud enough to give me a crippling headache. I never asked Them again.
    I’m a little surprised by how noisy They are as we walk to the cafeteria. Usually They’re silent the day after justice. But not today. Just being in the building makes Them tremble with agitation.
    I shush Them, silencing Their internal dialogue before opening the double doors to the lunchroom. I am immediately assaulted by a wall of sound. Voices raised in excitement, angst, and gossip roll over me. The clanging of trays on the food line provides a background beat. It’s enough to make my breath catch, for anxiety to claw its way through my chest.
    They flutter in the back of my mind, urging me to leave. You don’t need this. You have us. They want to quench my nervousness with the sweet screams of justice.
    I take a half step backward and stop. It would be so easy to listen to Them, to run away. But I can’t. This little bit of normalcy is something I need. I crave it the way They hunger for the fear of the guilty. Hanging around people is the only thing keeping me from being just like Them.
    I ignore Their whispers and walk calmly over to the food line, where I select a thick slice of chocolate cake and a bottle of chocolate milk. Chocolate calms Them, and I need all of the help I can get. I grab a bottle of water as well, since good hydration is essential to good health even in cold weather. I pay for my food, courtesy of the money from Alders’s wallet, and at the end of the line I turn around and survey the lunchroom. Like every other school in America, or at least the ones on TV,