Read Online UnBound by Neal Shusterman - Free Book Online Page A

steel squeaks against her weight, and she reflexively backs away into the shadows.
    â€œWho’s there?” the plebe calls. His voice squeaks like the cage bar.
    Soundlessly she flees down the long corridor, then ducks down a side hall when she hears the ponderous opening of the cage door. She finds a second stairwell, not daring to return to the main one. She fumbles the exit code and is sure the camera caught her profile leaning closer to the keypad. Can they identify her from a dim silhouette? Just one more thing she wishes she didn’t have to think about.
    She heads for Thor’s small bedroom and is grateful he isn’t there. He might have talked her out of her rampant paranoia, and she wants to let it range free.
    Her thoughts buzz angry and bewildered. Did the plebe sabotage her gun and is now hiding the evidence of his tampering? And if it was sabotage, who ordered it? A plebe that age wouldn’t act alone. This would have to have been planned long ahead of time, so it couldn’t be Kip. Or could it? He’d never liked her, even before his catastrophic fall on the track. Maybe it was the sarge. The man always seemed to have it in for her. He treats her as if she’s not a true boeuf, no matter how well she scores on tests and performs on the field. And it can’t be just because of her fighting.
    The lieutenant couldn’t be involved in the conspiracy, could he? Maybe the sarge, but not the lieutenant. She wants to think at least one person besides Thor is on her side. Logan doesn’t count. His protective power expired the moment he chose to believe Kip instead of her. Maybe she’ll talk to the lieutenant about the rifle. Maybe he’ll treat her fairly—and maybe Thor can keep her off the harvest list this time. But what about next time? She’ll need to scrape deep for information that’s so awful it’ll keep her safe for the next two years. From now on she must protect herself. No matter who gets unwound because of it.
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    The recitals are finished. The art galleries closed. The committees are tallying the arts kids’ final scores.
    As Brooklyn heads for the staff offices, she has to step around a group of arts kids huddled in the stairwell. Two are crying. She thinks she hears Risa whispering, an edge of despair in her voice, but Brooklyn is on a mission and hurries past them.
    Since she has time before Thor can run the results, she decides to see her lieutenant. No harm in currying favor in this final hour.
    His office is near the headmaster’s. Brooklyn uses covert measures to slip past the headmaster’s office. Although she hasn’t been called in to answer for the fight with Pecs, she doesn’t want the headmaster to conduct an impromptu reprimand on a chance meeting.
    â€œSir?” She taps lightly on the lieutenant’s open door.
    His expression darkens seeing her. “Yes?” No welcome, no warmth in his voice.
    â€œA moment, sir?” Maybe this isn’t a good idea.
    â€œA moment.” His nod at the chair before his desk is as crisp as his shirt.
    Best to get it over with. “Sir, I believe someone tampered with my rifle on the range this morning.”
    His jaw juts. “And do you have proof?”
    â€œNo proof, sir. But suspicions that can be—”
    He waves her to silence. His eyes glint coldly. “Are you making an unfounded accusation against a member of your squad?”
    â€œSir . . .”
    â€œBecause soldiers don’t do that. No matter what, the squad is your family, and its members are your brothers and sisters. Do you have any inkling of what that means?”
    â€œYes, sir.” She can barely hear herself, so she clears her throat and repeats loudly, “Yes, sir!”
    He leans slightly forward, his words still frosty. “I can lower your score further. Is that what you want?”
    â€œNo, sir.”
    â€œYou