Entanglement (YA Dystopian Romance) (2 page)

Aaron
ignored the rest. As he trudged through the sand, he was more concerned with
what in God’s name he was going to say to this girl once he got to her.

***

Amber
Lilian was way more than just pretty, he realized, when she finally glanced up
at the sound of his approach, the gleaming whites of her eyes warning him not
to take another step. Caught in the girl’s predatory stare, Aaron felt his
pulse quicken as he covered the last few feet.

“I
need to talk to you about your boyfriend,” he said, sitting next to her.

She
eyed the narrow gap he’d left between them and, without a word, edged away from
him.

He
tried again. “You know, that guy in the hoodie—”

“Why
are you even here?” she said, interrupting him. “You guys lost.”

“I’m
aware of that.” Aaron undid his laces and kicked off his shoes. “So, about that
guy—” He glanced up, but the sight of her up close caught him off guard, and he
trailed off. She brushed her hair behind her ear, still watching him. So it was
a staring contest. Fine. Except staring into Amber’s strikingly green eyes gave
Aaron the same bad feeling he got at zoos when he accidentally locked eyes with
the caged panthers—the ones that could rip his throat out.

Aaron
felt his gaze slipping and broke their stare, noticing with relief that she
broke at the same time.

“He’s
not my boyfriend,” she said.

Heart
still racing, Aaron nodded to the group of green jerseys he had come from.
“Your school’s volleyball team says he is.”

“I
think I would know,” she said, flashing him another warning look.

“Then
who is he?”

“Do
you actually care or is this just an excuse to talk to me?” she said.

On
any other day, Aaron would have juggled coals as an excuse to talk to this
girl, but tonight, he worried more about the throbbing pain at the back of his
skull and what Clive Selavio had done to cause it. He tried another angle.
“What was that red thing he showed you earlier?”

“Nothing,”
she said, a threatening tone in her voice as she edged away from him again.

“So
you guys are the real deal,” he said, “same birthdays and all?”

“So
what?” she said. “Why is everyone so obsessed with birthdays? I’m going to
belong to my half for the rest of my life. Can’t I just be a normal
seventeen-year-old right now?”

Aaron
blinked. She had just put into words exactly what he felt about his own
birthday. Before he could respond, though, he sensed the tension in her body as
she fought a shiver.

“Are
you okay?” he said. “You look cold.”

“Don’t
even think about putting your arm around me.”

“That
wasn’t the question.”

Amber
glared at him, then laughed to herself. “As if you would understand. You
probably downloaded that dumb birthday countdown app on your cell phone and
check it every five minutes just like everyone else.”

“Actually,
I do understand,” said Aaron. “I’m dreading my birthday too. I have scar tissue
in my brain blocking my clairvoyant channel, so when everyone else gets to meet
their soul mate, I get to see what’s missing. And I
didn’t
download that
app.”

His
answer must have surprised her. She stared at him, mouth open, and forgot to
brush away the curtain of hair that fell in front of her eyes.

Just
then, a commotion near the bonfire drew their attention. A group of juniors was
talking excitedly, and as others joined in and cheered them on, they took off
their shirts.

Two
guys ran over to Aaron and Amber’s log. “Hey, like twenty of us are going
skinny dipping, you guys want to 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, A
aron?
”

“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
but a wet pair of boxers, Aaron recognized him as Corona Blanca’s rugby star,
Dominic Brees. He grinned, flashing a broad mouth packed with shining white
teeth. Then, to Aaron’s horror, he chanted, “
Fight
—
fight
—
fight
—”
and within seconds, the whole school joined in.

Clive
grabbed Dominic’s jacket. “You better be able to get me out of this,” he said.
“I’m
dead
if my father finds out I got in another fight.” Evidently,
Clive didn’t want the attention any more than Aaron did.

Dominic
laughed and raised his hands, silencing the crowd. “We’ve had a change of
plans,” he yelled. “Corona Blanca’s Clive Selavio will now race number eleven
from Pueblo High School all the way out to the
buoy!”

Aaron
scowled. Clearly this was Dominic’s ploy to get more people in the water.
Unfortunately, it worked. The spectators roared and changed their chant to, “
Buoy—buoy—buoy—
”
Dominic slapped Clive on the back and receded into the circle, deserting him
before he could protest.

Aaron
scanned the shouting faces, trying to calm his breathing. How the hell had he
gotten himself in this situation?

Of
course it was that girl, Amber, who he noticed was conveniently nowhere in
sight. For a night out, it was fairly typical, he supposed, as the crowd
started booing him; he never quite managed to keep his damn mouth shut. At
least not when it counted.

Aaron
glanced back at Clive, and their eyes met across the ring. He had a hunch Clive
would back down, and he prayed he was right because he wasn’t about to
humiliate himself and disgrace his school. He whipped off his shirt and flung
it to the sand.

The
crowd cheered. Point for Pueblo.

Slowly,
the corner of Clive’s pale, chapped lips tightened into a smirk. He tugged his
hoodie over his head and laid it carefully on the driftwood, then he started on
the buttons of his collared shirt, and the crowd went berserk.

Aaron
stared at him. So they were actually going to do this.

***

Clive
cheated, bolting for the water a full second before Dominic shouted, “
GO!
”

Aaron
kicked off the sand and tore after him. He felt a deep rumble followed by a
spray of mist, and from out of the darkness, a film of foamy surf slashed
across his ankles.

There
was no sign of a buoy, not even a line marking the horizon, just blackness.
Thankfully Clive had kept his undershirt on because all Aaron could do was
follow his bobbing white silhouette as they hurled themselves into the pounding
surf.

Aaron
dived under a wave and icy brine flooded his nostrils. He broke out into the
open water, neck and neck with Clive. After a few minutes, he lost track of
time. Gradually every square inch of his skin went numb with cold.

Then
Clive’s splashes stopped.

But
there was nothing up ahead. Aaron panicked. Had he followed a rogue wave? Was
he in fact miles past the buoy, lost?

He
tried to find the shore, but the water stung his eyes and blurred everything.
He couldn’t even see the bonfire.

Something
moved in the darkness ahead of him, and all at once, the pungent smell of salt
and rotting fish rushed over him, filled his lungs, choked him. Right before a
wave sucked him under, he saw huge masses shifting and blotting out the stars.
He surfaced, terrified, to the sound of barking—violent, piercing barks that
echoed off the water. Aaron clutched his ears.

There
were splashes all around him, and he was aware that something else was swimming
in the water with him—something big. He felt a thrust of cold water against his
knees as a huge creature swam past him.

From
somewhere behind him, he heard Clive shout, “Sea lions!”

More
barking, more splashes, and more things swimming past him. Aaron twisted to get
away from them, but the turbulence from their flippers pulled him back.

A
moment later a white shape loomed in front of him, and he reached his arms out
just in time to stop his face from colliding with hard metal. The buoy.

With
Clive’s help, he tipped it over so they could rest the upper halves of their
bodies. Underwater, Clive’s pocket emitted an eerie red glow, tinting the water
around them purple.