Riptide Read Online Free PDF Page B

Trystan got a psychotic parent who blamed him for everything .
    Trystan stared at the lock, wishing he could remember his mother—at least a little bit—but there was nothing. No voice, no sense of safety, no warm memories of his mother cradling him in her arms or kissing him good-night. It was n’t something that he usually dwelt on. That was the past. There was nothing Trystan could do to change it. She left. No amount of wondering would bring her back , and Trystan had no plans of looking for her either. What was the point of chasing someone who left him behind? Trystan had had enough misery from the time she left. The thought of finding her and having his mom turn her back on him again was just too much. It wasn’t worth the risk. Not now, not ever.
    Staring at the golden lock, Trystan reali zed his Dad changed the knob. Trystan could have picked the lock if it was the old one, but not this thin g. Rising, Trystan stood back. He took a deep breath, braced himself, and kicked his boot into the door. The door shook, but it didn’t give. Trystan kicked it again and again, trying to weaken the frame , so that it would crack and let him out, but the jam was too strong. Again, another of Trystan’s ways to protect himself came back and bit him on the ass. After a few moments, he was huffing and the door gave no indication of opening . Trystan sat down on the floor hard, and banged his head back into the wall.
    “I have to get out here,” he muttered to himself.
    He stared at the black bars that shuttered him in. They were solid . There was no way he could bend them or slip out between , they were too narrow . Pushing himself to his feet, Trystan walked across the room to the window. If he drew attention to himself, someone might call the cops, and Trystan learned early on that cops were bad. If they showed up, he’d be in a worse situation than he was already in .
    Trystan leaned on the windowsill and turned his head, making his cheek press into the cold bars. They were jagged with rust. T he paint on the bars had blistered and peeled long ago. When Trystan pulled his face away, he felt the grime on his cheek and wiped it away . It left an orange smear on his fingers. Wonderful .
    Trystan stared at the bars , wonderin g if he could manage to kick them . They were a little loose, like the mortar holding the bolts in pla ce had grown weak . Trystan’s hands clenched at his sides. Before he spent more time thinking a bout whether or not he’d get into trouble, Trystan kicked. His boot came up and punched the side of the frame hard. To his surprise, his foot kept going. The bars went flying to the ground and bits of brick flew back in to Trystan’s face. One piece of shrapnel collided with his cheek, raking a deep cut as it flew by. Trystan swore, but he didn’t have time to look at the cut. The window was the only way out. He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, didn’t get to shower, and now his face was covered in rust and blood.
    Trystan swung his leg over the windowsill and jumped out. He landed next to a dead bush on the other side of the wall, and ran to grab the bars. Lifting them, Trystan wedged the rusty metal back in place. To his surprise, it held. The only problem now was making sure the school didn ’t throw him out when he got there and then he’d have to deal with his dad later.
    When Trystan walked in to the high school , Tucker was in the lobby. Trystan stopped mid - step and swung around, ready to bolt, but Tucker grabbed him by the shoulder.
    “You missed first period, Scott. What do you—” Tucker stopped speaking as Trystan whirled around. His chubby jaw slipped opened for a second, before taking a deep breath. “What happened to your face? Is that rust?” Tucker lifted his hand like he was going to touch Trystan, but stopped when Trystan flinched.
    Trystan didn’t mean to wince , but so much had happened. He was overly tired and his body was reacting without thought. Shit . S hit .