Unwind by Neal Shusterman Page B

into her airspace than she likes anyone to get. “If it wasn’t for me you’d be on your way to harvest camp!” he says. Risa raises a hand to push him back, but his hand shoots up faster, and he grabs her wrist before she can shove him. This is the moment Risa realizes she’s gone too far. What does she really know about this boy? He was going to be unwound. Maybe there’s a reason for it. Maybe a good reason.
    Risa is careful not to struggle because struggling gives him the advantage. She lets her tone of voice convey all the weight. “Let go of me.”
    â€œWhy? Exactly what do you think I’ll do to you?”
    â€œThis is the second time you’ve touched me without permission,” Risa says. Still, he does not let go—yet she does notice his grip isn’t all that threatening. It isn’t tight, it’s loose. It isn’t rough, it’s gentle. She could easily pull out of it with a simple flick of her wrist. So why doesn’t she?
    Risa knows he’s doing this to make a point, but what the point is, Risa isn’t sure. Is he warning her that he can hurt her if he wants to? Or maybe his message is in the gentle nature of his grip—a way of saying he’s not the hurting type.
    Well, it doesn’t matter, thinks Risa. Even a gentle violation is a violation.
    She looks at his knee. A well-placed kick could break his kneecap.
    â€œI could take you out in a second,” she threatens.
    If he’s concerned, he doesn’t show it. “I know.”
    Somehow he also knows that she won’t do it—that the first time was just a reflex. If she were to hurt him a second time, though, it would be a conscious act. It would be by choice.
    â€œStep off,” she says. Her voice now lacks the force it had only moments before.
    This time he listens and lets go, moving back to a respectable distance. They both could have hurt one another, but neither of them did. Risa isn’t quite sure what that means, all she knows is that she feels angry at him for such a mixture of reasons, she can’t sort them out.
    Then suddenly a voice calls to them from the right. “This is very entertaining and all, but I don’t think fighting is going to help much.”
    It’s Lev—and Risa realizes that her little ruse has backfired. She had set out to test him with a fake argument but the argument turned real, and in the process she completely forgot about Lev. He could have taken off, and they would not have known until he was long gone.
    Risa throws Connor an evil look for good measure and the three of them continue on. It isn’t until ten minutes later, when Lev goes off to relieve himself in private, that Connor talks to Risa again.
    â€œGood one,” Connor says. “It worked.”
    â€œWhat?”
    Connor leans closer and whispers, “The argument. You put it on to see if Lev would run when we weren’t paying attention, right?”
    Risa is bowled over. “You knew that?”
    Connor looks at her, a bit amused. “Well . . . yeah.”
    If Risa felt uncertain about him before, it’s even worse now. She has no idea what to think. “So . . . everything that happened back there was all a show?”
    Now it’s Connor’s turn to be unsure. “I guess. Sort of. Wasn’t it?”
    Risa has to hold back a smile. Suddenly she’s feeling strangely at ease with Connor. She marvels at how that could be. If their argument had been entirely real, she’d be on her guard against him. If it had been entirely a show she’d be on guard too, because if he could lie so convincingly, she’d never be able to trust him. But this was a mixture of both. It was real, it was pretend, and that combination made it all right—it made it safe, like performing death-defying acrobatic tricks above a safety net.
    She holds on to that unexpected feeling as the two of them catch up with Lev,