Entanglement (YA Dystopian Romance) - By Dan Rix Page 0,3
come? Dominic’s already in the water.”
It was obvious they were here to recruit Amber. Big surprise.
“No thanks,” said Aaron. “We’re good.”
“Is it just pervy guys?” said Amber. “Or are there actually girls too?”
“There’s girls too. It was their idea, in fact.”
Then, to Aaron’s bewilderment, Amber said, “Okay. I’ll come in a second.”
“Cool, see you down there!” The two guys raced back to the water, and when they thought they were out of sight, they grinned and high-fived.
“Can I hide my cell phone in your shoes?” Amber said, facing Aaron.
He gaped at her. “You’re kidding, it’s freezing out there—”
But she was already pulling her sweater over her head. He felt a rush of air as her hair came loose from the hood and swished back. She smelled like the beach, like salt and sunscreen.
“So do you have a name, number eleven?” she said, removing a large pair of peacock feather earrings that had been hidden under her hair.
“Aaron Harper,” he answered, still in disbelief.
“So when’s this birthday you’re dreading, Aaron?”
“March thirtieth.”
Amber froze, and for the first time that night, it seemed, she let down her guard. “Mine too,” she whispered.
Aaron felt his heart leap, and for a moment they couldn’t look away from each other—
“Amber, put you goddamn clothes back on,” said a cold, drawling voice behind them.
Aaron turned around as Clive Selavio, the figure in the gray hoodie, emerged from the shadows at the base of the cliffs.
***
Two pale, milky blue eyes glowed beneath the shadow of his hood. Though muscular, he was shorter than Aaron by a few inches, with perfect, if not cruel features. Like Amber’s. Too perfect.
So this was the guy who knocked into him. Aaron’s first impression was that Clive couldn’t have been seventeen. Twenty, maybe.
“You—” Clive said to Aaron, “thanks for babysitting her. Now you can leave.”
Aaron didn’t budge. His mind was still reeling with the news that he and Amber had the same birthday. Plus he had unfinished business with Clive. “You shoved me after the game, remember? What the hell was that?”
Clive ignored him to deal with Amber, who was now shivering in just a T-shirt. “Put your sweatshirt back on.”
“Actually, I’m going skinny dipping,” she said.
“You are not fucking skinny dipping,” said Clive.
“If she wants to take a dip, let her take a dip,” said Aaron.
Clive’s gaze snapped back to him, and Aaron felt the corner of his mouth twitch as their eyes burned into each other. “I thought I told you to leave,” he said.
“I asked you a question,” said Aaron.
Clive’s eyebrows shot up. Then he ran his hand over his scalp and behind his head, nudging off his hood, and Aaron saw that both sides of his thin, shaved head were etched with deep scars. As though his face had been peeled off and reattached. “The thing is, number eleven . . . ” he said, rounding the log to Aaron’s side, “you know this beach belongs to Corona Blanca, and you know that Amber is off limits, so why are you still here?”
Aaron noticed a red glow in the pocket of Clive’s shorts. Clive saw where he was looking and quickly covered it.
“What’cha got there?” said Aaron, certain he could now feel a gentle tugging behind his head. Maybe provoking this guy was a bad idea.
“It’s nothing,” said Clive.
“No, it looks like you have something in your pocket.”
“It’s just a glow stick. It’s nothing.”
“If it’s just a glow stick, then show it to me,” said Aaron.
Clive’s eyes became slits, and without another word to Aaron, he spun, grabbed Amber’s sweatshirt, and forced it back over her head. “Get up. We’re leaving.”
“Clive, stop it!” she yelled, shoving him off. “People are watching.”
He pinned her against the driftwood. “Think I give a damn?”
“Clive, you’re hurting me—” She scratched his arms, but Clive was stronger, and he dragged the fabric down over her face, suffocating her screams.
It was crossing the line.
Aaron lunged forward, closed his fist around Clive’s collar, and yanked him back. “Not while I’m here, jerk—”
He ended up in the sand, Clive on top of him.
“Cut the crap!” Aaron yelled, flinging Clive’s hands off his neck. Then he heard a sound like the rumble of crashing surf—the sound of running feet.
Clive jumped away from him, and Aaron stood, as Corona Blanca’s entire student body jammed into a ring with them at its center. The excited mutters quieted when a dripping wet senior stepped into the circle.
From his braided rat tail and the green letterman jacket the senior wore over nothing