Shattered (33 page)

Afterwards, I feel eyes on me – a woman, thin, hunched, skin a papery grey, the determined eyes of a survivor. She draws me aside.

‘I was there when you were born. Sam refused to say who was the father, but what options are there in a woman’s prison with male guards? I know what your mother named you,’ she says, then whispers it in my ear as if it can’t be said out loud.

It didn’t come that day, but on other days, as the sun shines down to melt the ice of another winter, to summon spring wildflowers from the earth; as the sky darkens with sudden, drenching showers before the sun returns, I know that both pain and joy are needed for life to grow. As Skye bounds about my feet, as Aiden comes to walk beside me, against all logic I can almost feel it.

My mother Sam must have been an amazing woman. So much circled around her: Gregory’s guilt at not having pardoned her made him a rigid Lorder ruler for most of his life. Dr Lysander’s grief at her supposed execution led her to invent Slating: a way to stop execution of underage criminals, yes, but look at all that it led to? And Sam, herself, imprisoned for years by Astrid, in that horrible place: I can’t imagine what she went through. Yet somehow, she still had it within her to give me a name that reaches out and bridges the years lost between us.

I have both been given and taken so many identities, but at last I am beginning to grow into my one true name. More will come with surviving, and time. With standing on my own feet now; with Aiden and me finding our way together in the future. Because sometimes there
are
second chances.

This was the gift my mother gave to me:

Hope
.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Teri Terry has lived in France, Canada, Australia and England at more addresses than she can count, acquiring four degrees, a selection of passports and an unusual name along the way. Past careers have included scientist, lawyer, optometrist and, in England, various jobs in schools, libraries and an audiobook charity. The footpaths and canal ways of the Buckinghamshire Chilterns where she now lives inspired much of the setting of the
Slated
trilogy. Teri hates broccoli, likes cats, and has finally worked out what she wants to do when she grows up.

Say hello on Twitter
©TeriTerryWrites
Visit her Facebook page:
TeriTerryAuthor
Website:
teriterry.com

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Writing and publishing a trilogy, a book a year, is quite a whirlwind!

Special thanks are owed to my agent, Caroline Sheldon: without her, none of this may have ever happened.

And to everyone at my publishers on both sides of the pond – especially editors Megan Larkin and Rosalind Turner at Orchard Books in the UK, and Nancy Paulsen and Sara Kreger at Nancy Paulsen Books in the US – thank you for everything.

Thanks to Erin Johnson for taking me around Oxford and its colleges, and to the Porter at Magdalen College. When I was despairing that you couldn’t see into another college’s quad from Magdalen Tower, he suggested St Mary’s Church Tower and All Souls as an alternative.

Thanks to first readers Amy Butler Greenfield and Jo Wyton, and writing buddies everywhere, especially all my friends at the SCBWI.

And now…I’ve heard that confession is good for the soul.

It is time to come clean: about character names, and where they come from. Some you may know about already. I had a few name-a-character competitions which gave Katran in
Fractured
, and Madison and Finley in
Shattered
.

But what you may not know is many of my other character names come from friends, and that I often hunt them out on my Facebook friends list.

First, the pets. Skye was a real dog! Owned by friend Karen Murray. Sadly Skye died before
Slated
came out, but the dog’s name and character is SO how I remember her. Sebastian in
Slated
was a real cat – years ago, my parents had two, Damian and Sebastian. The character of the cat in
Slated
was more Damian, and I originally used that name, but somewhere along the way changed it to Sebastian. And in
Shattered
? Pounce was the name of one of my sister’s cats.

And now for the people: the real people have nothing in common with the characters beyond the name, unless otherwise stated. Ben came from Benjamin Scott, because he is always smiling. Hatten – Nico’s surname as a teacher in
Slated
– came from Caroline Hooten, as the name made me think of owls; the spelling changed somewhere along the way. Nico came from Nick Cross. Kyla’s assigned mother, Sandra, came from my sister – and there is more than a little of her in the character. And in
Shattered
, Stella came from Stella Wiseman, and Astrid from Astrid Holm.

And of course, I can’t forget Murray: he is my own very sleepy teddy bear!

So there is more than one way to have your name end up in one of my books. My Facebook page is TeriTerryAuthor: like it, and you just never know…

You can also find me as TeriTerryWrites on Twitter and Tumblr, and my website, teriterry.com.

Thanks to Slans –
Slated
fans – and readers, bloggers and reviewers everywhere, whose support and enthusiasm for the
Slated
trilogy has been beyond awesome.

And to the most patient and understanding man: living with a writer can be trying, but Graham is always the calm centre of my life.

And finally, to Banrock, Murray, and muses everywhere: cheers!

If you enjoyed the
Slated
trilogy,
you’ll love Teri Terry’s
thrilling new book, coming soon.

Turn the page for a sneak peek…

Truth is the cry of all, but game of the few.
George Berkeley

Luna is a no-hoper with a secret: in a world of illusion, she can see what is real. But can she see the truth before it is too late?

Luna has always been able to exist in virtual and real worlds at the same time, a secret she is warned to keep. She hides her ability by being a Refuser: excluded by choice from the virtual spheres others inhabit. But when she is singled out for testing, she can’t hide any longer.

The safest thing to do would be to fail, to go back to a dead-end life, no future. But Luna is starting to hope for something better, and hope is a dangerous thing…

A school shouldn’t be this quiet. I slip down the stairs, Hex a shadow behind me, matching my exaggerated careful slow steps. Sound or sudden movement trigger the cameras, and I fight to breathe slowly, in and out, silent as I can when my heart is thudding so loud I’m sure it will set the cameras off all on its own. But they stay still.

We pass the final year students’ rooms, one by one. They are silent as graves with a red light over each door marking them as occupied. I glance back at Hex, an eyebrow raised, and can see he is worried. Could we be that unlucky that this is the one day of the year that every single student is in attendance? But at last there is an empty room. Hex pulls a face: it is Jezzamine’s. If they trace the hack to here, retribution will be harsh. But as good as his word he fiddles the lock and is inside and plugged in within seconds.

Now it’s up to me.
Come on Luna, you can do this
. I continue slow progress to the next corridor, and wait. Through the window in the door I can just see the green light of the camera. Security is higher through here, cameras on all the time and not just sound and motion. There is no point in continuing if Hex can’t—

And the green light goes out.

I grin and remember just in time to move slowly until I’m through the door and out of range of the hall detectors. Once the door shuts I dash across the room to the next door just as the lock clicks open.
Hex, you are brilliant
.

Remembering he wasn’t sure if he could keep it unlocked for long, I look around the decidedly minimalist office for something to jam in the door, then end up shoving one of my shoes in it, and step into the room.

So this is the centre of evil.

It looks much like any other PIP, but this Plug In Point has the Bag herself – Beatrice Annabel Goodwin OBE, Head of Learning and Chief Torturer of Students – hooked in on its comfy sofa. Her usually expressive face is blank, her body here but the rest of her in virtual assembly. We’d picked the one moment of the week that every single one of the regular students and teachers would be there, occupied and unable to unplug.

Nervous to be this close to her, I can’t stop myself from waving a hand in front of her face: no reaction.
Don’t be an idiot, Luna. You’re wasting time
.

I pull the gloves and paint out of my backpack, and get to work.

When I’m done, I back out of the room. The camera light is still off. I stoop to pull my shoe out of the door; the door clicks to and locks. I hesitate, staring at the shoe in my hand. They are purple, and I hand-painted the butterflies on them myself. The only pair quite like them.

I push the shoe just out of sight behind a plant in the outer office. This time, there will be no escape.

For my mother

ORCHARD BOOKS

338 Euston Road, London NW1 3BH
Orchard Books Australia
Level 17/207 Kent Street, Sydney, NSW 2000

First published in the UK in 2014 by Orchard Books

This ebook edition published in 2014

ISBN 978 1 40831 951 2

Text © Teri Terry 2014

The right of Teri Terry to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

E-pub conversion by Avon DataSet Ltd, Warwickshire

Orchard Books is a division of Hachette Children’s Books, an Hachette UK company.

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