UnBound: Stories from the Unwind World by Neal Shusterman (English) Hardcover Bo

Description: UnBound by Neal Shusterman Synopsis coming soon....... FORMAT Hardcover LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description Discover the future awaiting Connor, Risa, and Lev after the events of the New York Times bestselling Unwind Dystology series by Neal Shusterman in this short story collection.Connor Lassiters fight to bring down Proactive Citizenry and find a suitable alternative to unwinding concluded in UnDivided. Now, Connor, Risa, and Lev are free to live in a peaceful future—or are they? Neal Shusterman brings back beloved characters for his fans to see whats left for those who were destined to be unwound Author Biography Neal Shusterman is the New York Times bestselling author of more than thirty award-winning books for children, teens, and adults, including the Unwind dystology, the Skinjacker trilogy, Downsiders, and Challenger Deep, which won the National Book Award. Scythe, the first book in his series Arc of a Scythe is a Michael L. Printz Honor Book. He also writes screenplays for motion pictures and television shows. Neal is the father of four, all of whom are talented writers and artists themselves. Visit Neal at StoryMan.com and Facebook.com/NealShusterman. Review "For fans of the series, this one will be hard to put down. A necessity where the Unwind dystology is popular, these stories are every bit as engaging and will leave readers satisfied but still hoping for more." * School Library Journal *"Stories that will send fans over the moon and swiftly intrigue newcomers." * Kirkus Reviews *"Highly satisfying for general readers with a taste for stories featuring all-too-plausible dystopias or ghastly medical experiments, as well as for existing series fans who want a little more." * Booklist Online * Review Quote "Stories that will send fans over the moon and swiftly intrigue newcomers." Excerpt from Book UnSchooled UnSchooled The schoolboy bursts through the door, the first one out of the building when the bell rings. He is expected to be at home fifteen minutes after school lets out. Hes not going home. As he races through the streets, signs of the Heartland War are all around him. Burned-out cars. Rubble from blasted clinics. Crosses in the ground marking spots where soldiers and civilians on either side died fighting for their cause. This is nothing new. Its the world he knows, the world in which he grew up. He and his friends played in the burned-out cars when they were little. They played Lifers and Choicers with plastic guns and toy grenades, never caring which side of the game they were on, as long as they were on the same side as their best friends. But those childhood days are gone. Things are much more serious for him now. He turns down a side street thats infested with pigeons by day and rats by night, crossing an invisible line that everyone knows even without being able to see it. Its the line that marks the border beyond which law and reason cease to exist. Its called the wild zone, and every city and town has one. No one who values their property or their lives will venture there. Police have more important things to deal with, and not even the warring militias will go there anymore. The Choice Army blames all the wild zones on the Life Brigade, and vice versa. Easier to point fingers than actually do something about them. But for the schoolboy this place and the people holed up there have a certain allure that he cannot explain. Certainly not to his parents. Whenever hes late from school, he always has an excuse theyll believe. If they knew where he really goes on those days, he cant even imagine what theyd do to him. The buildings around him are mostly condemned. Angry spray-painted politics shout out from the bullet-marred bricks, and the windows are boarded over or just left broken. In a narrow alley he pushes open a side door that has only one hinge to keep it upright and steps inside. Immediately hes grabbed by two teens waiting there. They push him hard against the wall--hard enough to bruise, but thats okay. He knows the drill. He knows why they have to do this. They cant be seen as weak. Even by him. Because there are other feral gangs that would use that weakness against them. "Why you always comin here, Schoolie?" one of his assailants asks. "Dont you got better things to do?" "Im here because I wanna be." "Yeah," says the other one. "And thats all you are. A wannabe." Then, gripping his arms, they lead him deeper into the building. It used to be a theater, but the rusted seats are all stacked in the corner. The old carpet is ripped up and gathered into piles that the theaters new residents use as beds. The place is scattered with knickknacks and bits of scavenged civilization, the way a bird might feather its nest with scraps of paper woven into the twigs. The theater is the living space for about forty feral teens. They lounge on scavenged furniture; they laugh; they fight. They live. Its a very different kind of living than the "schoolie," as they call him, is used to. His life has no excitement. No passion. No adrenaline. His life is dull and in ordered control. They bring him to Alph. The others dont know the kids real name. Hes just Alph, as in Alpha. Hes the leader of this band of ferals. The schoolie, however, knows his real name, back from the days when they would play in the war-torn streets. The kid is a year older, but he always protected the younger ones. Now that hes feral, he does the same, on a different scale. Alph is a key member of what the media likes to call the Terror Generation. Hes got a scar on his face from a feral flash riot that gives him character and makes his smile impressively twisted. Hes everything the schoolboy is not. Right now, however, Alph isnt being much of a terror. Hes being fawned over by a pretty, if somewhat filthy, feral girl. He doesnt seem happy to be interrupted. "Schoolie, how many times do I gotta tell you not to come here? One of these days the Juviesll follow you, well all be screwed, and itll be your fault." "Nah, the Juvies dont care--theyre too busy chasing down ferals outside of the wild zone to care about the ones in it. And anyway, Im stealth. Im too smart to be followed." "So what are you wasting my time with today?" Alph asks, getting right to the point. The schoolie takes off his backpack and pulls out a brown paper lunch bag, but theres no lunch in it. In fact, it jangles. He hands it to Alph, who looks at him dubiously, then dumps out the contents on a dusty table beside him. Other kids ooh and aah at the glittering pile of jewelry, but Alph stays silent. "Its my moms," the schoolie tells him. "She doesnt think I know the combination to the safe, but I do. I took just enough so that she wont notice its gone for a while. You can fence it long before then." One of the others laughs--a buff kid named Raf, who could have been military if he hadnt gone feral. "Hes got guts, thats for sure." But Alph isnt impressed. "It doesnt take guts to steal from your own mother." Then he looks the schoolie in the eye. "Actually, its pretty pathetic." The schoolie feels heat coming to his face. He doesnt know why he should care what some feral kid says to him, but he does. "Youre not gonna take it?" he asks. Alph shrugs. "Of course Im gonna take it. But it doesnt make you any less pathetic, Schoolie." "I have a name." "Yeah, I know," Alph says. "Its a sad little name. Wish I could forget it." "I was named after my grandfather. He was a war hero." Although for the life of him, he cant remember which war. Alph smiles. "Somehow I find it hard to imagine a war hero named Jasper." At the mention of his name, other kids snicker. "My friends call me Jazz. But you dont remember that, do you?" Alph shifts his shoulders uncomfortably. Clearly he does remember, whether or not he wants to admit it. "What is it you want from me, Nelson? A pat on the back? A kiss on the forehead? What?" They all look at him now. Isnt it obvious to them what he wants? Why does he have to say it? Just because hes not feral doesnt mean that hes not part of the Terror Generation, too. Of course, no one calls Jasper a terror but his grandmother, and she always says it with a smile. "I want to be in your gang," he tells them. The mention of the word brings a wave of irritation that Jasper can feel like static electricity. Raf steps forward, speaking for Alph, who just glowers. "We are not a gang," Raf says. "We are an association." "A limited partnership," says someone else. And that makes a few others snicker. "Very limited," Alph finally says. "And we dont have room for schoolies. Got that?" Jasper knows this is all a show. He knows that Alph likes him. But Jasper has to prove himself, thats all. Hes got to show his value. So he goes out on a limb. He knows it might get him beaten up or worse, but it will definitely get Alphs attention. He turns to the cavernous space of the old theater and says as loudly as he can, "How many of you can read?" That brings absolute silence. He knew it would. Mentioning one of the three R s can be a call to battle. There are some things you dont say to ferals. Nobody answers him. Even if some of them can read, he knew they wouldnt answer. Answering gives him power, and none of them want to do that. Not without permission from Alph. Jasper turns to Alph. "You need me. I can tell you whats going on out there--the stuff you dont see on TV." "Why the hell should out there matter to me?" Alph says, his voice more threatening than Jasper has ever heard it. "Because theres this new thing I read about. Its called unwiring, or something. They say its going to end the Heartland War, and its also going to solve the problem of ferals." Alph crosses his arms in defiance. "This war aint never gonna end. And we are not a problem. Ferals are the future. Got that?" Jasper holds his gaze. Alphs hard exterior shows no signs of cracking. No indication that hes going to give Jasper the slightest break. Jasper sighs. "Yeah, I got it, Kevin." The fury that comes to Alphs face makes it clear that Jasper has made a critical error. "Dont you ever call me that." Jasper looks down. "Sorry. I didnt mean to...." Then Alph picks up something thats on the table next to the tangle of jewelry. A snow globe--one of the many weird knickknacks salvaged from the world that existed before the Heartland War. This one shows a little gingerbread cottage magnified and distorted, submerged in water, and surrounded by swirls of fake snow. "Tell you what, Nelson," Alph says. "Ill give you until the count of ten. You make it to the door by ten, I wont smash your skull with this thing." "Alph, I--" "One." "Just hear me out!" "Two." Raf gets between them. "Better start running, dude." "Three." And so with no choice, Jasper turns to run. "Four." The others laugh. One kid tries to trip him, but Jasper jumps over his extended foot. "Five." Hes almost to the door. The door guards d Details ISBN1481457233 Author Neal Shusterman Short Title UNBOUND Language English ISBN-10 1481457233 ISBN-13 9781481457231 Media Book Format Hardcover Residence Irvine, CA, US DEWEY FIC Pages 320 Series Unwind Dystology Imprint Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers Country of Publication United States Subtitle Stories from the Unwind World Place of Publication New York Series Number 5 Year 2015 Publication Date 2015-12-15 NZ Release Date 2015-12-15 US Release Date 2015-12-15 UK Release Date 2015-12-15 Illustrations f-c jacket (overall matte lam w-sculpt embossing) Audience Age 12-99 Publisher Simon & Schuster Alternative 9781481457248 Audience Teenage / Young adult AU Release Date 2015-12-31 We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:140667194;

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