UnBound - Neal Shusterman Page 0,84
she can in pursuit, fighting the urge to go home. She resolves to give up if she can’t pick up the trail in a minute or so.
Out of breath once she reaches street level, she hesitates for just a second, trying to decide which street the kid would have taken, when he grabs her from the gloom beneath the stairs.
“Who are you?” he rasps. With wiry strength he pulls her close to him. He stinks of sloppy joes and filth.
The AWOL underestimates her. She twists from his grip and shoves him hard. He smacks against the staircase and slides into the trash and weeds. When he starts to scramble away, she jumps him and pins his skinny self to the ground. Sometimes a healthy diet and keeping yourself fit for parts donation comes in handy.
“Settle down,” she hisses. “I’m here to save you.”
4 • Bryce
This must be the ultimate humiliation—not just to be bested by a girl, but to be bested by a girl who serves slop in a soup kitchen. He tries to wriggle out from under her, but the girl’s got moves and keeps him pinned.
“Stop squirming, or I will hit you so hard you’ll think you’ve entered the divided state.” Then in one smooth motion she lifts him halfway to his feet and tosses him to the other side of the staircase, where they will be hidden from view of the nearly empty boulevard. The meager streetlights have come on, but the space behind the staircase, which smells of dirt and urine, is mostly dark.
“I’ll kill you before I let you turn me in,” he threatens, although he’s not entirely sure whether he could follow through on the threat.
The girl is not intimidated in the least. “What about ‘I’m here to save you’ is unclear?” she says. “You can’t be low-cortical, so you must just be stupid.”
He ignores the insult. “Save me how? You mean go-back-to-that-church-and-confess-my-sins kind of saving? Because that’s not going to happen.”
“Your immortal soul is your problem,” she says. “I’m talking about saving your hide, because in spite of your unwind order, it’s only semiworthless, not entirely worthless.” She shifts slightly so that the streetlamp lights her. “What’s your name?” she asks.
Seeing her clearly makes him feel easier, but not easy enough to answer.
“Are you a Juvey-cop?” he asks.
She hoots. “Do I look like a Juvey-cop?” She straightens importantly. “I know what you’re up against—I used to run with AWOLs.”
He throws her a doubtful look, and she qualifies it.
“Well, with one AWOL in particular.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Everything. That priest—the one at the soup kitchen—Father Lawrence, he looks for AWOLs and does what his conscience tells him to do. He gets them to safety—and I’m a key part of that safety net.” Then she looks him in the eye and asks, “Do you want me to save you or not?”
Bryce doesn’t need some church girl to save him; he’s been saving himself since he turned thirteen and his stepmother signed his unwind order. On the other hand, he could use someone who knew a safe way out of town . . . but safe passage can be expensive.
“I don’t got any money.”
“I don’t want money. I just want to ask a question.”
He tenses, which she must have seen even in the shadows.
“But the question can wait. Let’s go.”
He doesn’t move. “Go where?”
“I know people who can take you to where you’ll never have to worry about harvest camps again.”
She heads for the sidewalk and waits for him. Still feeling wary, he joins her.
She sticks out her hand. “My name is Miracolina Roselli.”
He gingerly shakes it. “I’m Bryce Barlow.”
She squeezes his hand hard. “Pleased to meet you, Bryce.”
About four blocks later she opens the door to a small store between a pawnshop and a tattoo parlor. The sign above the door says JACK AND JILL EXTERMINATORS. On the roof floats a huge roach balloon. In the window a poster states virtuously WE USE ONLY ENVIRONMENTALLY SAFE PRODUCTS TO RID YOUR HOME OF PESTS.
Bryce stalls on the sidewalk. “Exterminators? I’m not a roach—I don’t want to be exterminated.”
“It’s a cover for an AWOL rescue operation,” Miracolina says impatiently. “It’s supposed to be ironic. Now get in before someone sees you.”
That makes him jump inside, and she shuts the door behind them.
The front office looks more like a school counselor’s office than an exterminator’s place of business. She holds open the small swinging door at the counter and prods Bryce through it. At the