UnBound - Neal Shusterman Page 0,31

to the ocean floor. Maybe that would be a better way to go. The thought of it makes him wish he were dead. And he finds himself filled with hate. He hates the ocean for plotting his demise. He hates the wall of shale that mocks him. He hates the beast. But most of all he hates himself for not being stronger.

Then something begins to grow within him, an indescribable force—a powerful surge of energy like he’s never felt before. And it makes Roland’s fingers curl into a fist, clenching the shard of rock in his hand.

And in a split-second decision, just a moment after he hits the water, Roland kicks off from the wall, gripping the stone shard so tightly it digs into his skin. But the pain doesn’t matter, because at this moment Roland is in control. Eat or be eaten. And now Roland is the beast of prey. Within seconds he’s staring into the eyes of the monster—blacker than infinity itself.

It all happens so fast.

. . . Suddenly a stabbing pain grips his ankle—pulling him deeper into the abyss . . .

. . . Roland begins to feel himself drowning in his own vertigo . . .

. . . Thrashing, kicking, stabbing with all his might . . .

. . . Thrusting his spike into a soulless eye . . .

. . . Digging deeper and deeper . . .

. . . Until eventually . . .

. . . It lets go . . .

11 • Seventeen

Zane bull-rushes forward. Roland swims past him with ease. Zane shoots a double-leg takedown, and Roland dives, clamping Zane’s head into a headlock. Zane tries to squirm out of Roland’s vise grip, but Roland doesn’t let go. Instead he flexes tighter, squeezing every breath of air out of Zane. Zane’s face is turning red, and his veins begin to protrude as blood collects in his head. He gasps for air, but Roland spares him none. . . . And just before Zane loses consciousness, Roland releases.

And now Zane is bloodthirsty. He tries to stand, but he’s sluggish, his motor system failing him. He swings, hitting Roland in the face. He swings again, and Roland endures them, because he knows with every swing, Zane is running out of steam. And by now they’ve caught the attention of the entire room. Roland lowers his hips, shoots his own double-leg takedown, more powerful than Zane’s, then lifts Zane over his shoulder, driving him forward, off the mat. And in one crippling move, Roland slams him down—harder than he’s ever slammed anyone before. He can hear the crunch of bone the moment Zane hits the hardwood floor.

Zane screams in pain, a shrill so earsplitting, it echoes in Roland’s eardrums. Zane arches his back, convulsing in agony. It’s only when Zane rolls over that Roland notices his arm snapped backward, hyperextended at such an obscene angle that it bends in the complete opposite direction.

Roland stands up, invigorated, still rushing with adrenaline as Zane kicks and screams. Within seconds everyone’s there. Coaches, teammates, spectators.

Coach Pratt looks to Roland, but Roland speaks first. “He hit me again. You saw it—he kept on hitting me. It was self-defense.” And, as calculated, his teammates back him up.

The assistant coach hurries over, and attempts whatever first aid he can. Zane grits his teeth, and his eyes well up. Coach Pratt starts pacing, and as it all hits him, he buries his face in his hand and shakes his head—his star wrestler is down. “A new arm could take months to transplant. . . .”

Valerie rushes to Zane and holds him, hysterical. She looks up at Roland, screaming, “What the hell did you do?”

Roland doesn’t flinch; instead he looks down, wiping blood from his forearm, revealing his tiger shark tattoo. He then meets her gaze, grinning. “I won.”

And like that Roland turns his back, smiling to himself. Because now he knows he’s the ultimate predator. He knows he’s the shark.

UnClean

Co-authored with Terry Black

1 • Jobe

Jobe Marin isn’t surprised by the unwind order.

He feels no anger, just resignation. His dad’s litany still reverberates: This isn’t a free ride, son. A man has to earn his seat. Dad sees the world in Darwinian terms—you have to fight to get what’s yours—and Jobe’s on the side of the dinosaurs. It doesn’t help that his brother and sister are wildly successful, with Greg on his way to a basketball scholarship and Brittany on the dean’s list at Wellesley College.

By contrast, Jobe has dismal grades, no awards