UnBound - Neal Shusterman Page 0,22
The stink of dirty clothes sticks to her hands and fills her nose. She reaches the bottom of the hamper. Not there. Someone has taken it.
She immediately remembers that other time when she accused Risa of stealing her shirt, and the humiliation that followed, but tries to brush the thought away.
Naomi and two of her friends enter. Brooklyn’s anger boils over. Naomi was jealous of that shirt yesterday. Of course she pilfered it!
Brooklyn launches herself at Naomi, shoving her against the wall, her forearm compressing Naomi’s throat. Another girl shrieks, but Brooklyn’s menacing growl overrides her loud protests.
“Where’s my shirt?”
Naomi is unable to breathe, her eyes are wild, and her fingernails score bloody lines in Brooklyn’s skin. Bucking frantically under Brooklyn’s forearm, Naomi manages to overset them both, and they crash sideways onto the laundry hamper.
“Are you crazy?” Naomi vaults away from Brooklyn. “You could’ve killed me.”
Brooklyn pushes the hamper away and starts after Naomi again, but one of the other girls, a hefty boeuf from Squad C, inserts herself between them. She’s almost as big as Pecs. The memory of that fight sobers Brooklyn, but her anger still simmers.
“Give me back my Parana River shirt,” Brooklyn snarls. “I know you took it.”
“I didn’t touch your shirt, jerk.” Naomi looks in the mirror, her fingers tenderly probing her reddening neck. “Wait till I tell ’em what you did to me. Geez, I’m gonna have bruises.”
“Is that your missing top?” the other girl says, pointing to a shirt wadded up on the floor behind the upended hamper.
Shocked, Brooklyn stares. Hands shaking, she picks it up. She sees the familiar insignia against the gray-green background. PR. Parana River.
Naomi glares at Brooklyn. “I heard about your fight with that boy this morning. Then you attack me? Man, when they’re done with you, you’re gonna be blood and bones on the floor.”
“Let it go, Naomi.”
In equal astonishment, Brooklyn and Naomi stare at the boeuf from Squad C.
The larger girl shrugs. “DormGuardians and the headmaster are in a foul mood today. They won’t care whose fault it is. If you don’t end this now, they’ll punish you both.”
Naomi glowers, then exhales explosively and kicks Brooklyn. She’s an arts kid, so it doesn’t hurt much. Grabbing her shower kit, Naomi and her friends slam out of the room.
Still holding her Parana River shirt, Brooklyn studies the boeuf uncertainly. “Thanks. I don’t know why you did that, but thanks.”
“Soldiers gotta stick together,” she says. “And besides, Pecs deserved to have his nose broken.”
The girl heads off toward the showers, and, thoughtfully, Brooklyn smoothes out the shirt. The Squad C boeuf made her feel kind of bad for bumping Logan, a fellow soldier, to the harvest list. Not bad enough to change her mind—just enough to make her feel miserable about it. Even so, her reasoning on who lives whole or divided still stands.
Her hand pauses from trying to dewrinkle the shirt. She accused Risa of stealing her shirt when they were seven. Was she mistaken then, too? Brooklyn’s skin prickles considering how every memory of the event and everything she felt about Piano Girl since could be wrong.
She shakes away the thought. What Risa did afterward, in front of a crowd of other wards, was worse. But when she stopped by to talk to Brooklyn today, it showed that Risa was big enough to forget about childhood squabbles. Brooklyn deciding not to bump Risa onto the harvest list shows she’s matured too.
She knows she can’t get to the computer room too early, or the attendant will be suspicious. Best to wait until after he’s gone. Brooklyn decides she’ll catch Thor in his room and tell him her decision rather than waiting—but as she passes the showers, she overhears Naomi blabbing about their stupid little fight.
It infuriates Brooklyn, but, for once, she controls her temper. Brooklyn was admittedly wrong, and although it’s never been in her nature to apologize, perhaps doing so will finally bring some good karma her way. Besides, a quick I’m sorry, Naomi, might stem off further retribution and any disciplinary action that might follow. So she’ll swallow her pride and apologize. Then she’ll hurry off to find Thor.
She moves toward the line of girls in the tiled bathing area, waiting their turn. Steam rolls from the showers like a hot fog, leaving the tiles slick. Brooklyn approaches Naomi, already having formed and practiced an apology in her mind—but she never gets there. Instead, she encounters someone else in line.
“Oh hey.”
Brooklyn looks up. It’s Risa.
“Hi,”