by Teri Terry
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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