Free Scorpion Shards by Neal Shusterman Page A

years and much better than what he had to face these past few days. On that first night, suddenly roaring with crickets, he knew his legs were moving him away from home, but it was like sleepwalking. Only after dawn broke did he begin to comprehend that he was running away with this hideous, crater-faced girl.
    At first they traveled west: on foot and in the beds of pickup trucks, “borrowing” clothes from clotheslines along the way, and food from unharvested fields. Once they hit the Mississippi River, they followed it north. Winston could feel himself being drawn upriver, the way salmon were drawn against a powerful current.
    Winston knew they were moving toward Others like themselves—it was something he had sensed from the beginning—but where would they find them and how long would it take?
    And where to go now?
    As he stood at the edge of western Kentucky’s woods, he looked out across the swirling waters where the Ohio and the Mississippi met—a delta that divided three different states. Where to go from here? Kentucky, Illinois, or Missouri. Decisions were getting harder and harder for Winston thesedays. The very thought of having to make one made him want to put his thumb deep in his mouth and suck on it to make all his problems go away. He’d been getting that thumb-sucking urge a lot lately—like he used to the first time he was little. But he reminded himself that he was fifteen and forced the urge away. Instead he focused his attention on that piece of turquoise cloth in his other hand, studying the soothing richness of its color. There was something important about that color—he was certain of it.
    In a few minutes he returned to their campsite and slipped into his sleeping bag, which was just an old comforter he had found in a Memphis Dumpster.
    â€œDid you hear what I said about Omaha?” Tory asked. “About that astronomer? He’s supposed to be a kook, but then maybe only a kook will talk to us.”
    Winston rolled over, away from her. “Sure,” he said. “Whatever.”
    Tory sighed. “It would help,” she said, “if you did some of the thinking around here.”
    Winston slid deeper into his sleeping bag. “Thinkin’ just makes me angry. I got no use for it anymore.”
    â€œYou know,” said Tory, “you’re not an easy person to run away with.”
    Winston rolled over to face her. “Just because we ran away at the same time, in the same direction, doesn’t mean I ran away with you.” But even as he said it, Winston knew he was wrong. They were stuck with each other—and even if they were to go their separate ways, he knew they’d end up bumping right back into each other—pulled together like two magnets.
    Winston began to think of his family. The faces of his mother and brother were getting harder to remember.
    â€œMy mama’s probably turnin’ the country upside down lookin’ for me.”
    â€œI thought you called her and told her you were all right.”
    â€œI did,” said Winston. “But she had more questions than I could answer, so I hung right up.”
    Tory sighed and slipped deeper into her makeshift sleeping bag. “You’re lucky you got a mama who cares enough to ask questions. My mama’s gone.”
    â€œShe’s dead?”
    â€œNo, just gone,” said Tory. “Up and left last year. I got stuck with my aunt.”
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    â€œJust as well. My mama and I never got along anyway. She used to say ‘Tory, your bulb is so dim, you’ll never amount to anything.’ Truth is, I get straight A’s in school. But that didn’t matter. I coulda been a national scholar, she still would have figured me dumber than a doorpost. Anyway, when I started getting this skin problem, my mother just gave up. She said it was my fault all her boyfriends ran away—and I hoped she was right; I would