Free Slip (The Slip Trilogy Book 1) by David Estes

says.
    And then he shoves him into the River.

Chapter Twelve
     
    E verything feels so different, like it’s the first time the boy attempted to swim all over again. The suit seems to shrink further, sucking against his skin. It’s strange, he can feel the water, and yet he can’t. The cold doesn’t bite as much, and seems to lessen with each passing second.
    The plastic-wrapped pack is strung around him awkwardly, the rope choking him slightly. But it’s not sinking, not dragging him down.
    Instead, it’s floating. How something that felt so heavy on land could float is beyond him.
    And his feet, which are moving instinctively beneath him, feel powerful, keeping him afloat with almost no effort. The fake fins are helping him.
    Treading water, he unwinds the rope from around his neck, and pushes the floating pack a safe distance away. It tugs at the knot around his waist but doesn’t hurt him. Feeling more settled he looks back at the shore, where his father watches him with lion’s eyes.
    “To the middle and then back?” the boy says. “Or should I go further?” These are innocent questions. Not the hard kind. Allowed. Not dangerous.
    His father winces and seems to grit his teeth. His jaws clamped tight, his voice comes out strained and distorted. “Further,” he says. “All the way to the other side. Go all the way to the lights.”
    A mixture of excitement and fear bubbles through him. The other side? He’s dreamed of swimming to the lights, of seeing them up close. But now that the time has finally come, he feels the tight squeeze of resistance. Fish wriggle in his stomach. “I’ll make it,” the boy says.
    “I know you will,” his father says. “You’re ready.”
    “And then I’ll come back to you,” the boy says.
    His father shakes his head. “You have to stay over there,” his father growls, sounding almost animal-like, his words barely discernible.
    “Father, I—”
    His father cuts him off. “When you reach the city, get rid of your wet suit and fins; you’ll find a change of clothes in the waterproof bag. Food, too. Eat something and then walk the streets until you get picked up. It won’t take long—the Crows are very good at finding runaways. Do what they tell you. Go where they tell you. There are…homes. Places where you’ll be safe, just another orphan in the crowd. No one ever has to know where you come from.”
    The boy’s eyes are as wide as the moon. This can’t be happening. What is his father saying? “Father, I—”
    “Go!” his father yells. “Never come back! Don’t tell anyone where you came from or who you really are. NEVER!” His father is a lion, his shouts a roar.
    The boy’s cheeks burn like he’s been slapped. He can’t mean that—he can’t. The house is his home. His father is his family. Janice is his friend and teacher. He can’t just leave and not come back. It’s not safe out there, right? That’s what he’s been told his whole life. The boy swallows the thick knot in his throat. He doesn’t move, his legs treading water automatically.
    “But I—I don’t even know who I am,” the boy says, hating the tears that blur his vision, as if he’s already underwater. His father can never cry again, and neither can he.
    “Who you are is in your eyes,” his father says. “Let them scan your eyes and they’ll tell you your name.”
    “I don’t underst—”
    “Go, NOW!” the man from the holo-screen screams. He picks up a rock.
    “Father?” the boy says.
    He throws the rock and the boy covers his head. It falls short of him, but bounces off the surface of the water and skips up, hitting him in the chest. Even with the second skin to protect him, he feels a sting of pain.
    His mouth falls open as he stares at the man who raised him, who has always protected him. Now trying to hurt him, to chase him into the dark abyss of the river.
    His father raises another stone, this one much bigger. “Go,” his father says, dropping his voice