Read Slip (The Slip Trilogy Book 1) for Free Online

water, as if swimming is as easy as walking. In awe, the boy is oblivious to the cold seeping into his bones.
    When they break the surface, the boy sucks in a deep breath, wondering why he never realized how sweet air tastes. As his father drags him toward the shore, he cranes his head back and the stars seem brighter, the moon bigger in the night sky. And when he lowers his gaze, he sees them again:
    Innumerable lights shining in the distance, attached to giant, rectangular shadows.

Chapter Seven
     
    F or six days, they don’t speak of what happened. As if following some unspoken agreement, the boy and his father act normal, each going about their business like that night never happened. If Janice notices that something is amiss, she remains silent.
    On the seventh day, a weekend, the boy spends three hours watching the other kids through the hole in the fence. They’re running and laughing and tapping each other on the shoulders. A game, where one kid has to touch one of the others. “You’re it!” they keep shouting. Why is he different? Why can’t he join them? Why is it unsafe for him to leave the bounds of the fence and house?
    He startles when his father touches him on the shoulder.
    “I—I was just looking,” he says, a lame excuse that surely won’t prevent punishment.
    To his surprise, his father says, “I know. Son, I’ve been thinking.”
    The boy waits, his father’s hand heavy on his shoulder.
    “The life you’ve been given isn’t fair. But at least I’ve kept you safe. From the beginning, that’s all I’ve wanted for you.”
    “I don’t understand,” the boy admits. He starts to wave at the hole in the fence, to finally explain his confusion to the one person he doesn’t want to disappoint.
    “That’s because I’ve never explained anything to you,” his father says. “You were too young, still are, and I don’t want to scare you.”
    The boy thinks about this for a minute. He knows he’s scared sometimes. If he was braver, more like Zoran, would his father tell him his secrets?
    “I want to learn to swim,” he says.
    “I know,” his father says.
    “I’ll sneak out again,” he says, trying to calm the quaver in his hands.
    “I know,” his father repeats.
    The boy says nothing.
    “I’ll teach you,” his father says.
    The boy’s smile is a giant gaping crevice in his face.
     
    ~~~
     
    The boy no longer hates the cold. In some ways, he looks forward to it. Although the wind bites his skin and the stones pierce his feet, he doesn’t feel it as much. A year of enduring something will do that, making you less sensitive to it. Growing up has strengthened him, too. At seven years old, the boy feels strong enough to fight dragons, to save princesses, to leave the backyard.
    When he asked why he can’t wear shoes, why he can’t wear warmer clothes, at least until they get to the water, his father told him it was important he learn to handle harsh environments. The boy didn’t question it further, for fear his father would end his lessons.
    Today the boy swims farther than he’s ever swum, so far that the shadows in the distance form very real shapes, structures rising up into the clouds. He treads water for a moment, relishing how close the lights look, like if he were to reach out he could almost touch them.
    And then he turns back.
    By the time he reaches his father—who’s hunched over his portable holo-screen—the sky has turned pink, a glowing warning of the approaching dangers of daylight. His father barely notices when he pulls himself on shore, raining drips all around him. His father’s eyebrows are scrunched and his eyes narrowed into tiny, black beads.
    “Father?” the boy says.
    His father’s head jerks around, startled. The boy’s never seen him this focused on something. Peeking over his shoulder, the boy’s thankful for all of Janice’s reading lessons, as he easily makes out the projected news headline: Search for Slip Passes Two Year Mark. Head