SWAB (A Young Adult Dystopian Novel) by Heather Choate Read Free Book Online Page B

the driver’s seat, which still smelled lightly of my father’s cologne, and turned the key. The engine started, and I tried to remember what my parents always did to make the car go backwards.
    “You don’t know how to drive,” Nathan stated the obvious.
    I bit my lip. “Dad let me try a few times,” I said, to reassure myself more than him.
    “Yeah, in the parking lot, going super-slow,” Nathan pointed out.
    “I can do this,” I told him, and put the car into drive. It moved toward the garage. I slammed on the brakes, making us fly forward.
    “You want me to try?” Nathan offered.
    “No. Now sit down and put your seat belt on, you twit. If I crash this thing, you’d better be safe.”
    Arguing felt better. Like things were almost normal. I got the minivan into reverse and pulled out onto the road. I looked into the rearview mirror once to see our home disappear forever behind us.
    I woke up from the memory when the sky was still dark. The memory no longer made me cry, but it always exposed the raw, hallow part in me, like ripping off a scab. I wrapped my arms tightly around my chest and decided to get up anyway and get a start on the day. The scarb had taken everything from us. It was time to take it back.
     

Chapter Seven
    A Funny Way of Speaking
     
    The early morning air outside my tent smelled like sage and fresh-fallen rain. I sucked in a deep breath of it. I closed my eyelids as I turned into the rising sun.
    “You miss him, don’t you?”
    The unexpected male voice startled me. I turned quickly, my legs reflexively in a fighting stance, to see Derrick casually walking toward me in a plaid shirt and blue jeans, his usual white cowboy hat on his head. His dark blue eyes fell on me, and I felt incredibly self-conscious in the short boxers and tank top I’d stepped out of my tent in.
    “Who?” I asked, wondering why he was over here at all. He usually hung out over by the Post with the other soldiers. Ray had told me Derrick tried too hard to fit in. He was always trying to prove himself with the guys and was a real show off for the ladies. Cassandra had an alternating crush between him and Ray. Ray had said that Derrick talked a lot with that smooth country accent but rarely had much to back it up. Ray didn’t care for him much, which was enough for me to not like him, either.
    “Your boyfriend,” Derrick said, taking off his hat and brushing back his sun-bleached blond hair. When I just stared back at him dumbly, he added, “You know, the one who got kidnapped by the scarb?” He had a funny way of saying scarb . It came out more like scahr-buh .
    He put his thumbs into the front pocket of jeans. He looked like he’d worked on a ranch his whole life. He reeked of sun and sweet straw.
    This was getting uncomfortable. Why won’t he just leave? I was anxious to get over to check on Travis’s progress with the trucks.
    “Well, for what it’s worth”—he stalled, like he was embarrassed or something—“I thought you should know, since we are in the same troop and all, that I believe you.” This got my attention, and I looked into his face for a sign he might be making fun of me. He spoke softly and seriously. “I believe the flying scarb may have taken Ray. I know a heck of a lot of the guys back at the Post don’t think your story is very… accurate, but I don’t see why you would just make it up.”
    My mouth hung open slightly, like the hinges of my jaw had come loose.
    Derrick played with the toe of his cowboy boot in the dust. “Well, I guess I better get back and help Rico and Jorge at the Post,” he finally said. “I’ll see you at our troop meeting later tonight.”
    With that, he put his hat back on, turned, and started back toward town. His figure from the back looked like a postcard. Wild and western. A gentleman ? I wasn’t sure.
    “See you,” I said weakly to the back of his plaid shirt. Did that really just happen? I wondered as I headed toward the lake for a