The Coldest Girl in Coldtown by Holly Black

asked, over and over. “She’s only twelve. Please, I know she came through here. Have you seen her?”
    At first, people under the age of sixteen weren’t allowed to go through the gates of the Coldtowns, but then a nine-year-old was turned away because the guards thought she was lying about being bitten. She wasn’t. People died. There were tests for infection, but the tests were expensive, making self-reporting critical to keeping the quarantine. Since that incident with the child, anyone was allowed to enter any Coldtown at any age without proving anything.
    Tana looked at the woman, at her tired face and at the smiling little girl on the flyer. She thought of Pearl and wondered what that girl imagined was waiting for her behind the gates.
    Midnight walked past the woman without even seeming to notice her and collapsed on one of the benches. Both her hands pressed the velvet cloth of her shirt over the scratches to stop the bleeding.
    “I’ll get bandages and stuff,” said Winter. “You stay right here. And you stay with her.” He scowled at Tana.
    Tana nodded and Winter walked toward the pharmacy, looking back twice. His big boots clopped like hooves on the shiny granite tile floor.
    A few passing kids wearing backpacks stopped to stare at Tana in her bloody clothes and at Midnight, with her smeared mascara and the way she was clutching her shoulder.
    “What are you looking at?” Tana told the kids, snarling the way Pauline would have, and they hurried off.
    Midnight smiled at her lopsidedly.
    “I’m so incredibly sorry,” Tana said. “About what happened. I’m sorry you got hurt.”
    “How did you—how did you wind up with them? With Aidan and the other one?” Midnight asked. Her lips looked chapped and bluish under the fluorescent lights.
    “There was a party and everyone died,” Tana said. She didn’t expect it to come out quite like that, quite so plain and awful.
    Midnight nodded and closed her eyes, as if the scratches stung. “How bad? It wasn’t that thing that was on the news up north—?”
    The news? For a moment, Tana was confused. It felt like something too private for the news, but of course that didn’t make sense. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
    “It was! Oh my god, I saw all the tweets and the pictures someone leaked of the crime scene. You were really there?”
    Tana nodded, not sure what else to say. She had no words for it that were big enough.
    “Wow,” Midnight said. “And you got away. That’s major.”
    “More or less, we got away,” said Tana.
    “Hey, do me a favor, okay?” Midnight reached into her pocket with one hand and took out her phone, the face of it scratched from the pavement. “Hold this while I talk. My tripod is in my luggage, but I don’t want to bother getting it. This is the real stuff—the stuff I promised to tell everyone. Just try and hold it steady.”
    “Sure,” Tana said, somewhat taken aback. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t taken video of anyone before—of Pauline so she could see how her auditions looked or of friends acting stupid and goofing around—but she’d never filmed anyone who’d just been attacked and was still bleeding.
    “And you could say something, too. You should . Everyone wants to know what it’s like to be you right now.”
    Tana shook her head quickly; the idea of talking about what had happened brought back every awful image. The staring dead eyes. The whispering voices through the door. Her back slammed against the ground of the gas station with Aidan towering over her. “I don’t know, myself.”
    “Later maybe,” said Midnight, handing the phone to Tana. “How do I look?”
    Tana had no idea how to answer that. Midnight looked pale and beautiful, streaked and bloodied. “You look fine,” Tana said, as neutrally as possible.
    “I guess that’s going to have to do.” Midnight winced as she pulled on the ripped neck of her velvet shirt, exposing her collarbone so Tana could get a good shot of the