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Check out the exclusive excerpt from chapter 17 ofThe Scatteringbelow.
The book will hit shelves May 2.
Credit: HarperCollins
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I fixate on one girl walking alone.
She
is tall and slim with short jaggedy hair, but cut intentionally
that way unlike mine.
She even has a backpack like the one I
used to carry.
Its amazing how she and I could look so similar
and yet the gulf between us is infinite.
Permanent maybe, too, I
am beginning to realize.
He was
so happy that Id agreed to leave the hospital that he probably
would have gone anywhere.
But I could feel him getting more
anxious the farther we went into the Cambridge side streets.
To the address I gave you, I say.
And I know its stupid to
delay the inevitable, but I do anyway.
Thats where were going.
He rolls his eyes.
Yeah, I got that part.
I mean whats at this
address?
Really, I shouldnt drag Jasper intowell, thats just it.
I
dont even know what Im dragging him into.
I cant do that
without telling him whats going on.
Its the address that was on the note.
Even
without looking at him, I can already feel Jaspers anger in my
toes.
How sharp and clear it can be.
Maybe
someday when my dad gets all his research done there will even
be some way to measure it.
To hold it up for everyone to see.
But
right now, its only a feeling.Myfeeling.
And I cant promise you
that its right.
I turn to look at Jasper.
But at least its a good feeling right now.
I smile, trying
to lighten the mood.
Do you think this is some kind of joke?
Listen, you dont even have to come
Dont give me that bullshit, he says.
And he is angry.
Angry
because he is worried.
Obviously, Im going to come.
And you
know it.
Do I know that?
Did I realize that when I made Jasper drive
me here?
I will do this on my own, theres no question about that.
But
I would prefer to have somebody with me when I knock on this
door.
And I would prefer for that person to be Jasper.
I feel how
much he wants to hear that.
He needs me to say it: that I want
him with me.
But I wont be mad if you dont come.
And you wont be abandoning me.
I can and I will do this on my
own.
Jasper looks up at me out of the corner of his eye, then ahead
again through the windshield.
Finally, he nods.
His anger has
vanished, replaced by a faint twinge of satisfaction.
That was exactly what he needed me to say.
For a moment it
lifts the heaviness off everything.
For a second, it gives me hope.
IT STARTS TO rain as we climb out of the car.
The stormy blue-black sky makes it seem much later
than four p.m.
When we finally turn onto Gullbright Lane, the sky opens
and it begins to pour.
People have newspapers over their heads, jackets
pulled up as they sprint for cover.
Im glad for the rain, though.
Now everyone is running from something.
Finally we spot 323, about halfway down the block.
We hover under the short
awning as I dig out the note with the code.
I try not
to think about what will happen.
And who could they be?
My
fingers are trembling as I punch the first button and then the
next.
I hold my breath until I am done.
Then I wait for the door to
spring open, for some terrible possibility I havent even considered.
The door doesnt open.
No one jumps
out.
There is only silence.
Try it again, Jasper says, which surprises me.
Id have
thought hed be happy for any excuse to turn around.
And so I press the buttons again in the order the note
instructed.
This time I hold each number for longer.
My finger
is still on the last button when the door finally opens.
But only a
crack.
Whoever is inside has left the chain across.
A male voice, deep and aggravated.
On the upside,
at least he didnt come charging out the door.
Um, were here to see Joseph Conrad, I say.
It feels reckless, like Im taping a target to our backs.
And
yeta bigger part of me is pushing onward.
The door snaps shut without a reply.
There are voices inside,
followed by other sounds: cabinets opening and closing, footsteps.
A beat later the door opens again, this time a little wider
and without the chain.
But more like someone forgot to be sure
that it was all the way closed than an actual invitation.
I look over my shoulder at Jasper.
If he tries to stop us again
I might listen.
I take a deep breath as I step into the darkness inside.
The
smell hits me first.
Mildew and dust and something else, thick
and rotten.
My throat clamps shut and I try not to gag.
Hurry up, comes a voice to our right in front of the blotted out
windows.
And exit the goddamn door.
In the dim light, I can make out only a short, slight outline.
He sounds super pissed, but at least he isnt huge.
He has messy, shoulder-length hair and a bony face.
Hes wearing oversized clothesa green denim army jacket
and super-low, baggy jeans.
Massive black gauges stretch out
his earlobes.
Both the clothes and his angry voice seem meant
to make up for his size.
Hes waving us toward the back of the
room.
He was expecting usor somebody like usbut hes also
annoyed that were there.
He heads past us toward the back of
the room and jerks open a door.
Dim light from a stairway down
brightens the room.
I can see now he is even younger than I
thought.
he snaps, waving us toward the steps.
Come on,
lets go.
Jasper peers in the direction of the stairs without taking
another step.
Fuck off, the kid spits back, like hes sure Jasper is messing
with him.
He pulls himself tall, too, for emphasis.
Get
down there now or get the fuck out.
Jasper makes a noise then: something between a huff and a
laugh.
Then he closes the space between them and I think:dont
Jasper.This will not end well.
But he is already looming over the
jittery kid with the stretched-out ears.
What did you just say?
The kid leans in.
I said: get down
there or
Jasper has grabbed him by the throat.
And so
fast and sudden that I have to blink to believe what I am seeing.
But there is Jasper, this small kids neck locked under the fingers
of one hand.
He has him lifted, too.
It is not the first
time that Jasper has done this either.
He is too good at it.
A complete
and terrifying natural.
Jasper, I whisper.
Finally, he loosens his grip a little and the kid starts to
cough.
Who is down there?
But instead of answering theres a flash of movement as the
kids arm jerks back and then forward.
The kid has his arm outstretched, a short knife only inches
from Jaspers neck.
I shout, staring at that knife so close to Jaspers skin.
This is all my fault.
Jasper raises his hands in surrender.
He is afraid now, I can
feel it.
But not nearly as afraid as he should be.
Okay, man, I
dont
Shut the fuck up!
the kid screams, his voice shrieky and
wild.
Asshole, do younotfucking see that I am the one with the
goddamn knife?
Its when the kid readjusts his grip on the knife that I notice
the tattoo on his hand.
A grid of nine black circles arranged in
a perfect square.
I have seen something like that before.
Then it comes to me.
Hacktivists, thats what Quentin called them.
I have to think.
I have use what I can feel to help Jasper.
What is it that this kid is worried about?
What is it that he
actually wants?
What can I do to get Jasper away from him in
one piece?
I take a stab at see past his fear to what lies beneath.Concentrate.
Concentrate.Not to fuck it up.
Thats what this kid wants, to
prove to Level99 that he should get promoted off the door.
But
he is scared.
And fear can make a person do anything.
Level99 is expecting us, I say.
you’ve got the option to ask them.
My name
is Wylie.
Despite the note, I seriously doubt
theyre expecting us.
But this kid wont check.
Hes too worried
about bothering them.
Were supposed to be here.
We knew the
code.
Theyll be pissed if we dont show up.
The kid keeps his eyes locked on Jasper, knife still right at his
throat.
Then go, he says.
Get the hell downstairs.
I tug gently on Jaspers arm, trying to get him to move.
Come on, Jasper.
THE STAIRS ARE narrow and uneven and creak hard underfoot.
And I realize then that it doesnt even matter
if we were told to come here.
No one had any way of knowing exactly what would happen once we got here.
What that kid would do.
How I would respond.
Behind me, Jasper is breathing hard.
Im so sorry, I manage.
This is my fault.
Though the choking is on Jasper, thats for sure.
Yeah, he says, more angry than I had expected.
Its the blond guy from the camp with the beaked
nose and the dark circles under his eyes.
The one with the game
board on his pale, ashen arm.
Its obvious he recognizes me, too.
And not in a good way.
Shit, he says, annoyed, exhausted.
Like I am yet another
human spill he will now be forced to clean up.
If the people at the laptops notice
us, they pretend not to.
They dont even look up.
That comes straight from her.
What comes straight from her?
a girl shouts from behind
the partial wall.
the blond guy shouts back with an edge.
Like he and the girl are already in a fight about something else.
You dont want to come out here.
Oh, c’mon, comes the snorted response.
Near her collarbone, she has the same game
board tattoo.
Riel, you didnt have to come out here, the blond guy growls
at her.
Handling it, she snorts again, like thats the most absurd
thing shes ever heard.
And thanks for telling her my name,
asshole.
The blond guy frowns and looks down.
Contempt, thats what I read
when shes done.
But it is so complete that it seems weirdly
suspect.
Most people usually feel more than one thing at any
given time.
Her eyebrows bunch sharply
when I stay silent.
Thats when she glances up and notices my
hairI can only imagine how bad it looks like now.
Whats wrong with you?
Why arent you talking?
Shes still
pointing at me when she turns back to the blond guy.
Does she
not talk?
Shes the one from the camp, he says, like this alone explains
everything.
And in a way I suppose it does.
Her dads the scientist.
You know, shes the Outlier.
He hooks quotes in the air as
he shakes his head.
I told you not to come out here.
Of course theyve got opinions about me.
Level99 were the
ones combing through all our personal data, heading off my dads
texts.
They might know more about me than I know about myself.
Excerpted from the book THE SCATTERING by Kimberly McCreight.
Copyright 2017 by Kimberly McCreight.
Reprinted with permission of HarperCollins Childrens Books.
