UnBound - Neal Shusterman Page 0,28

exact button Roland has been waiting to push, to detonate the entire situation. And Valerie explodes. She fights with all of her being to close the door, but Roland won’t let her.

“Go to hell!” she screams—but Roland isn’t finished. He puts his hand behind her head, pulling her lips to his, and forces a kiss. She struggles, but he’s much stronger than she is. Valerie claws, throwing punches out of desperation, but it’s no use—and as their mouths are pressed together, she sinks her teeth into Roland’s lower lip, biting down. He tries to pull her off, but she doesn’t let go. Not until it really stings. Not until she’s drawn just enough blood.

Finally Roland pushes her off and grunts. He wipes the blood from his mouth and savors the moment, flashing her a bloody red smile. “You know what? It wasn’t as good as I remember.”

Valerie slams the door shut, fires up the engine, and peels out.

Roland exhales, invigorated, his bottom lip beginning to swell. He looks around, noticing that a few of Valerie’s teammates saw the whole thing—three to be exact—and Roland smiles to himself, because as far as he’s concerned that’s just the right number of witnesses.

6 • Thirteen

The size of an ocean wave is calculated not by its face but from the trough behind it, giving it the illusion of being much larger than it actually is. But right now, for Roland, the wave that swells before him can’t be measured in feet or inches, only in increments of fear.

He’s no longer afraid of heights, no longer fears the jump from the pier. He’s conquered that. Now he’s moved on to greater challenges.

Pulling his boogie board into his chest, Roland makes a split-second decision and dives underwater, bracing himself for impact. He goes under and a moment later emerges. It wasn’t as bad as he thought. Not as bad as it could have been. He’s relieved. Roland sizes up the next wave—it’s intimidating, but he’ll survive this one too. The crashing wall of water is beautiful even in its monstrous nature—the way the setting sun glows through its face; the way sparkles dance along its foamy crest.

Roland should have known a storm was coming in. The signs were clear, but then again Roland is far too bullheaded to back off once he’s made a decision. Today was the day he was going to boogie-board the big waves. And since there was yet another screaming match occurring between his mother and stepfather, Roland knew there was only one place he could go to take out his own aggression: the sea.

“Here comes another one!” his sister shouts from the top of the pier, like his own personal lifeguard, although her jumping in is out of the question. She only did that once. And she didn’t exactly jump.

Roland focuses on the next wave. It’s bigger than the others. Maybe a ten footer, he thinks. He braces himself and takes it head-on, the ocean tide sucking him under and thrashing him around like a rag doll. The boogie board flies, and he feels it tug on the rubber cord around his wrist. By the time he reaches the surface, his ears are ringing, a shrill that crescendos into what sounds like distant screams, and it’s not until Roland looks up that he realize they’re coming from his sister. She’s frantic, pointing to the water. Roland feels a surge of adrenaline. He pulls the boogie board back to him and focuses his attention on the water, but the sun temporarily blinds him, refracting through the surface like a prism. He panics, trying to assess his surroundings, interpret his sister’s hysteria, but it only hits him when he feels something large brush past his leg. . . .

7 • Seventeen

Wrestling is always the first period of the day, and Roland knows that Zane will be there. He also knows that gossip travels at an exponential rate. So Roland makes a point to show up to practice ten minutes late, after all the wrestlers have already arrived—a controlled environment where everyone’s watching.

Roland opens the gym door and surveys the room. Rows of wrestlers are stretching on the mats, per usual. He walks by carefully, scanning the faces of each of his teammates; however, Zane’s isn’t one of them, and only then does he realize that the coaches aren’t there either.

Without warning, someone explodes into Roland’s side, sending him sliding across the mat. Roland doesn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Zane