Unwind Read Online Free PDF Page A

afraid.”
    â€œNo, it’s not. I could work out. I could become a boeuf. The military always needs more boeufs!”
    The lawyer sighs in exasperation and looks at his watch. The social worker leans forward. “Risa, please,” she says. “It takes a certain body type for a girl to be an Army boeuf, and many years of physical training.”
    â€œDon’t I have a choice in this?” But when she looks behind her, the answer is clear. There are two guards waiting to make sure that she has no choice at all. And as they lead her away, she thinks of Mr. Durkin. With a bitter laugh, Risa realizes that he may get his wish after all. Someday he may see her hands playing in Carnegie Hall. Unfortunately, the rest of Risa won’t be there.
    *   *   *
    She is not allowed to return to her dormitory. She will take nothing with her, because there’s nothing she needs. That’s the way it is with unwinds. Just a handful of her friends sneak down to the school’s transportation center, stealing quick hugs and shedding quick tears, all the while looking over their shoulders, afraid of getting caught.
    Mr. Durkin does not come. This hurts Risa most of all.
    She sleeps in a guest room in the home’s welcome center, then, at dawn, she’s loaded onto a bus full of kids being transferred from the huge StaHo complex to other places. She recognizes some faces, but doesn’t actually know any of her travel companions.
    Across the aisle, a fairly nice-looking boy—a military boeuf by the look of him—gives her a smile. “Hey,” he says, flirting in a way only boeufs can.
    â€œHey,” Risa says back.
    â€œI’m being transferred to the state naval academy,” he says. “How about you?”
    â€œOh, me?” She quickly sifts through the air for something impressive. “Miss Marple’s Academy for the Highly Gifted.”
    â€œShe’s lying,” says a scrawny, pale boy sitting on Risa’s other side. “She’s an Unwind.”
    Suddenly the boeuf boy leans away, as if unwinding is contagious. “Oh,” he says. “Well . . . uh . . . that’s too bad. See ya!” And he leaves to sit with some other boeufs in the back.
    â€œThanks,” snaps Risa at the scrawny kid.
    The kid just shrugs. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.” Then he holds out his hand to shake. “I’m Samson,” he says. “I’m an Unwind too.”
    Risa almost laughs. Samson. Such a strong name for such a mealy boy. She doesn’t shake his hand, still annoyed at havingbeen exposed to the handsome boeuf.
    â€œSo, what did you do to get yourself unwound?” Risa asks.
    â€œIt’s not what I did, it’s what I didn’t do.”
    â€œWhat didn’t you do?”
    â€œAnything,” Samson answers.
    It makes sense to Risa. Not doing anything is an easy path to unwinding.
    â€œI was never going to amount to much anyway,” Samson says, “but now, statistically speaking, there’s a better chance that some part of me will go on to greatness somewhere in the world. I’d rather be partly great than entirely useless.”
    The fact that his twisted logic almost makes sense just makes her angrier. “Hope you enjoy harvest camp, Samson.” Then she leaves to find another seat.
    â€œPlease sit down!” calls the chaperone from the front, but no one’s listening to her. The bus is full of kids moving from seat to seat, trying to find kindred spirits or trying to escape them. Risa finds herself a window seat, with no one beside her.
    This bus trip will be only the first leg of her journey. They explained to her—to all the kids after they boarded the bus—that they would first be taken to a central transportation center, where kids from dozens of state homes would be sorted onto buses that would take them to wherever they were going. Risa’s next