Unwind

       part  #1 of  Unwind Dystology Series  by  Neal Shusterman / Young Adult / Science Fiction

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Unwind
Page 1

Part One

Triplicate

"J was never going to amount to much anyway, but now, statistically speaking, theres a better chance that some part of me will go on to greatness somewhere in the world. Id rather be partly great than entirely useless. "

—SAMSON WARD

1 Connor

"There are places you can go," Ariana tells him, "and a guy as smart as you has a decent chance of surviving to eighteen. "

Connor isnt so sure, but looking into Arianas eyes makes his doubts go away, if only for a moment. Her eyes are sweet violet with streaks of gray. Shes such a slave to fashion— always getting the newest pigment injection the second its in style. Connor was never into that. Hes always kept his eyes the color they came in. Brown. He never even got tattoos, like so many kids get these days when theyre little. The only color on his skin is the tan it takes during the summer, but now, in November, that tan has long faded. He tries not to think about the fact that hell never see the summer again. At least not as Connor Lassiter. He still cant believe that his life is being stolen from him at sixteen.

Arianas violet eyes begin to shine as they fill with tears that flow down her cheeks when she blinks. "Connor, Im so sorry. " She holds him, and for a moment it seems as if everything is okay, as if they are the only two people on Earth. For that instant, Connor feels invincible, untouchable . . . but she lets go, the moment passes, and the world around him returns. Once more he can feel the rumble of the freeway beneath them, as cars pass by, not knowing or caring that hes here. Once more he is just a marked kid, a week short of unwinding.

The soft, hopeful things Ariana tells him dont help now. He can barely hear her over the rush of traffic. This place where they hide from the world is one of those dangerous places that make adults shake their heads, grateful that their own kids arent stupid enough to hang out on the ledge of a freeway overpass. For Connor its not about stupidity, or even rebellion—its about feeling life. Sitting on this ledge, hidden behind an exit sign is where he feels most comfortable. Sure, one false step and hes roadkill. Yet for Connor, life on the edge is home.

There have been no other girls hes brought here, although he hasnt told Ariana that. He closes his eyes, feeling the vibration of the traffic as if its pulsing through his veins, a part of him. This has always been a good place to get away from fights with his parents, or when he just feels generally boiled. But now Connors beyond boiled—even beyond fighting with his mom and dad. Theres nothing more to fight about. His parents signed the order—its a done deal.

"We should run away, "Ariana says. "Im fed up with everything, too. My family, school, everything. I could kick-AWOL, and never look back. "

Connor hangs on the thought. The idea of kicking-AWOL by himself terrifies him. He might put up a tough front, he might act like the bad boy at school—but running away on his own? He doesnt even know if he has the guts. But if Ariana comes, thats different. Thats not alone. "Do you mean it?"

Ariana looks at him with her magical eyes. "Sure. Sure I do. I could leave here. If you asked me. "

Connor knows this is major. Running away with an Unwind—thats commitment. The fact that she would do it moves him beyond words. He kisses her, and in spite of everything going on in his life Connor suddenly feels like the luckiest guy in the world. He holds her—maybe a little too tightly, because she starts to squirm. It just makes him want to hold her even more tightly, but he fights that urge and lets go. She smiles at him.

"AWOL . . . " she says. "What does that mean, anyway?"

"Its an old military term or something," Connor says. "It means absent without leave. "

Ariana thinks about it, and grins. "Hmm. More like alive without lectures. "

Connor takes her hand, trying hard not to squeeze it too tightly. She said shed go if he asked her. Only now does he realize he hasnt actually asked yet.

"Will you come with me, Ariana?"

Ariana smiles and nods. "Sure," she says. "Sure I will. "

* * *

Arianas parents dont like Connor. "We always knew hed be an Unwind," he can just hear them saying. "You should have stayed away from that Lassiter boy. " He was never "Connor" to them. He was always "that Lassiter boy. " They think that just because hes been in and out of disciplinary school they have a right to judge him.

Still, when he walks her home that afternoon, he stops short of her door, hiding behind a tree as she goes inside. Before he heads home, he thinks how hiding is now going to be a way of life for both of them.

* * *

Home.

Connor wonders how he can call the place he lives home, when hes about to be evicted—not just from the place he sleeps, but from the hearts of those who are supposed to love him.

His father sits in a chair, watching the news as Connor enters.

"Hi, Dad. "

His father points at some random carnage on the news. "Clappers again. "

"What did they hit this time?"

"They blew up an Old Navy in the North Akron mall. "

"Hmm," says Connor. "Youd think theyd have better taste. "

"I dont find that funny. "

Connors parents dont know that Connor knows hes being unwound. He wasnt supposed to find out, but Connor has always been good at ferreting out secrets. Three weeks ago, while looking for a stapler in his dads home office, he found airplane tickets to the Bahamas. They were going on a family vacation over Thanksgiving. One problem, though: There were only three tickets. His mother, his father, his younger brother. No ticket for him. At first he just figured the ticket was somewhere else, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed wrong. So Connor went looking a little deeper when his parents were out, and he found it. The Unwind order. It had been signed in old-fashioned triplicate. The white copy was already gone—off with the authorities. The yellow copy would accompany Connor to his end, and the pink would stay with his parents, as evidence of what theyd done. Perhaps they would frame it and hang it alongside his first-grade picture.

The date on the order was the day before the Bahamas trip. He was going off to be unwound, and they were going on vacation to make themselves feel better about it. The unfairness of it had made Connor want to break something. It had made him want to break a lot of things—but he hadnt. For once he had held his temper, and aside from a few fights in school that werent his fault, he kept his emotions hidden. He kept what he knew to himself. Everyone knew that an unwind order was irreversible, so screaming and fighting wouldnt change a thing. Besides, he found a certain power in knowing his parents secret. Now the blows he could deal them were so much more effective. Like the day he brought flowers home for his mother and she cried for hours. Like the B-plus he brought home on a science test. Best grade he ever got in science. He handed it to his father, who looked at it, the color draining from his face. "See, Dad, my grades are getting better. I could even bring my science grade up to an A by the end of the semester. " An hour later his father was sitting in a chair, still clutching the test in his hand, and staring blankly at the wall.

Connors motivation was simple: Make them suffer. Let them know for the rest of their lives what a horrible mistake they made.

But there was no sweetness to this revenge, and now, three weeks of rubbing it in their faces has made him feel no better. In spite of himself hes starting to feel bad for his parents, and he hates that he feels that way.

"Did I miss dinner?"

His father doesnt look away from the TV. "Your mother left a plate for you. "

Connor heads off toward the kitchen, but halfway there he hears:

"Connor?"

He turns to see his father looking at him. Not just looking, but staring. Hes going to tell me now, Connor thinks. Hes going to tell me theyre unwinding me, and then break down in tears, going on and on about how sorry sorry sorry he is about it all. If he does, Connor just might accept the apology. He might even forgive him, and then tell him that he doesnt plan to be here when the Juvey-cops come to take him away. But in the end all his father says is, "Did you lock the door when you came in?"

"Ill do it now. "

Connor locks the door, then goes to his room, no longer hungry for whatever it is his mother saved for him.

* * *

At two in the morning Connor dresses in black and fills a backpack with the things that really matter to him. He still has room for three changes of clothes. He finds it amazing, when it comes down to it, how few things are worth taking. Memories, mostly. Reminders of a time before things went so wrong between him and his parents. Between him and the rest of the world.

Connor peeks in on his brother, thinks about waking him to say good-bye, then decides its not a good idea. He silently slips out into the night. He cant take his bike, because he had installed an antitheft tracking device. Connor never considered that he might be the one stealing it. Ariana has bikes for both of them though.

Arianas house is a twenty-minute walk, if you take the conventional route. Suburban Ohio neighborhoods never have streets that go in straight lines, so instead he takes the more direct route, through the woods, and makes it there in ten.

The lights in Arianas house are off. He expected this. It would have been suspicious if she had stayed awake all night. Better to pretend shes sleeping, so she wont alert any suspicion. He keeps his distance from the house. Arianas yard and front porch are equipped with motion-sensor lights that come on whenever anything moves into range. Theyre meant to scare off wild animals and criminals. Arianas parents are convinced that Connor is both.

He pulls out his phone and dials the familiar number. From where he stands in the shadows at the edge of the backyard he can hear it ring in her room upstairs. Connor disconnects quickly and ducks farther back into the shadows, for fear that Arianas parents might be looking out from their windows. What is she thinking? Ariana was supposed to leave her phone on vibrate.

He makes a wide arc around the edge of the backyard, wide enough not to set off the lights, and although a light comes on when he steps onto the front porch, only Arianas bedroom faces that way. She comes to the door a few moments later, opening it not quite wide enough for her to come out or for him to go in.

"Hi, are you ready?" asks Connor. Clearly shes not; she wears a robe over satin pajamas. "You didnt forget, did you?"

"No, no, I didnt forget. . . . "

"So hurry up! The sooner we get out of here, the more of a lead well get before anyone knows were gone. "

"Connor," she says, "heres the thing . . . "

And the truth is right there in her voice, in the way its such a strain for her to even say his name, the quiver of apology lingering in the air like an echo. She doesnt have to say anything after that, because he knows, but he lets her say it anyway. Because he sees how hard it is for her, and he wants it to be. He wants it to be the hardest thing shes ever done in her life.

"Connor, I really want to go, I do . . . but its just a really bad time for me. My sisters getting married, and you know she picked me to be the maid of honor. And then theres school. "
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