This is the moment Risa realizes that, even with all his troubles, she sees Connor as a hero.
25. Connor
Holding his temper in that bathroom was perhaps the hardest thing Connor had ever had to do. Even now, as he storms away from Risa, he wants to lay into Roland—but blind rage is not what the moment needs, and Connor knows it.
Risa’s right—a brutal, all-out fight is exactly what Roland wants—and Connor’s heard from some of the other kids that Roland has fashioned himself a knife out of some metal he found lying around the warehouse. If Connor launches at him with a rage of swinging fists, Roland will find a way to end it with a single deadly thrust—and he’ll be able to get away with it, claiming it was self-defense.
Whether Connor can take him in a fight isn’t the question. Even against a knife, Connor suspects he might be able to either turn the blade against him, or take Roland out in some other way before he has the chance to use it. The question is this: Is Connor willing to enter a battle that must end with one of them dead? Connor might be a lot of things, but he’s no killer. So he holds his temper and plays it cool.
This is new territory for him. The fighter in him screams foul, but another side of him, a side that’s growing steadily stronger, enjoys this exercise of silent power—and it is power, because Roland now behaves exactly the way he and Risa want him to. Connor sees Roland offer his dessert to Risa that night as an apology. She doesn’t accept it, of course, but it doesn’t change the fact that he offered it. It’s as if Roland thinks his attack on her could be wiped away by feigning remorse—not because he’s actually sorry for what he did, but because it serves Roland’s needs to treat her well now. He has no idea that Risa and Connor have him on an invisible leash. Connor knows it will only be a matter of time, however, until he chews his way through it.
Part Four
Destinations
The following is a response from eBay with regard to a seller’s attempt to auction his soul online in 2001.
Thank you for taking the time to write eBay with your concerns. I’m happy to help you further.
If the soul does not exist, eBay could not allow the auctioning of the soul because there would be nothing to sell. However, if the soul does exist, then in accordance with eBay’s policy on human parts and remains we would not allow the auctioning of human souls. The soul would be considered human remains; and although it is not specifically stated on the policy page, human souls are still not allowed to he listed on eBay.
Your auction was removed appropriately and will not be reinstated.
Please do not relist this item with us in the future.
You may review our policy at the following link: http://pages.ebay.com/help/policies/remains.html.
It is my pleasure to assist you. Thank you for choosing eBay.
26. Pawnbroker
The man inherited the pawnshop from his brother, who had died of a heart attack. He wouldn’t have kept the place, but he inherited it while he was unemployed. He figured he could keep it and run it until he could find a better job. That was twenty years ago. Now he knows it’s a life sentence.
A boy comes into his shop one evening before closing. Not his usual type of customer. Most folks come into a pawnshop down on their luck, ready to trade in everything they own, from TVs to family heirlooms, in exchange for a little quick cash. Some do it for drugs. Others have more legitimate reasons. Either way, the pawnbroker’s success is based on the misery of others. It doesn’t bother him anymore. He’s grown used to it.
This boy is different, though. Sure, there are kids who come in, hoping to get a deal on items that were never claimed, but there’s something about this kid that’s markedly off. He looks more clean-cut than the kids that usually turn up in his store. And the way he moves, even the way he holds himself, is refined and graceful, deliberate and delicate, like he’s lived his life as a prince and is now pretending to be the pauper. He wears a puffy white coat, but it’s a bit dirty.
Maybe he’s the pauper after all.
The TV on the counter plays a football game, but the pawnbroker isn’t watching the game anymore. His eyes are on it, but his mind is keeping track of the kid as he meanders through the shop, looking at things, like he might want to buy something.
After a few minutes, the kid approaches the counter.
“What can I do for you?” the pawnbroker asks, genuinely curious.
“This is a pawnshop isn’t it?”
“Doesn’t it says so on the door?”
“So that means you trade things for money, right?”
The pawnbroker sighs. The kid’s just ordinary after all, just a little more naive than the other kids who show up here trying to hock their baseball card collections or whatever. Usually they want money for cigarettes or alcohol or something else they don’t want their parents to know about. This kid doesn’t look like the type for that, though.
“We loan money, and take objects of value as collateral,” he tells the kid. “And we don’t do business with minors. You wanna buy something, fine, but you can’t pawn anything here, so take your baseball cards somewhere else.”
“Who said I have baseball cards?”
Then the kid reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bracelet, all diamonds and gold.
The pawnbroker’s eyes all but pop out of his skull as the kid dangles it from his fingers. Then the pawnbroker laughs. “Whad’ya do, steal that from your mommy, kid?”
The kid’s expression stays diamond hard. “How much will you give me for it?”
“How about a nice boot out the door?”
Still, the kid shows no sign of fear or disappointment. He just lays the bracelet on the worn wooden counter with that same princely grace.
“Why don’t you just put that thing away and go home?”
“I’m an Unwind.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
This throws the pawnbroker for a loop for a whole lot of reasons. First of all, runaway Unwinds who show up at his shop never admit it. Secondly, they always appear desperate and angry, and the stuff they have to sell is shoddy at best.
They’re never this calm, and they never look this . . . angelic.
“You’re an Unwind?”
The boy nods. “The bracelet is stolen, but not from anywhere around here.”
Unwinds also never admit that their items are stolen. Those other kids always come up with the most elaborate stories as to who they are, and why they’re selling. The pawnbroker will usually listen to their stories for their entertainment value. If it’s a good story, he’ll just throw the kid out. If it’s a lousy story, he’ll call the police and have them picked up. This kid, however, doesn’t have a story; he comes only with the truth. The pawnbroker doesn’t quite know how to deal with the truth.
“So,” says the kid. “Are you interested?”
The pawnbroker just shrugs. “Who you are is your business, and like I said, I don’t deal with minors.”
“Maybe you’ll make an exception.”
The pawnbroker considers the kid, considers the bracelet, then looks at the door to make sure no one else is coming in. “I’m listening.”
“Here’s what I want. Five hundred dollars, cash. Now. Then I leave like we never met, and you can keep the bracelet.”