Shattered [NOOK Book]


The riveting finale of

the Slated trilogy—

a thought-provoking psychological thriller set in a disturbingly plausible future where the government and its enemies compete to control the minds of the young

Kyla is in danger from both ...
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The riveting finale of

the Slated trilogy—

a thought-provoking psychological thriller set in a disturbingly plausible future where the government and its enemies compete to control the minds of the young

Kyla is in danger from both the government Lorders who erased her memory and the terrorists who tried to use her. So now she’s on the run. Sporting a new identity and desperate to fill in the blank spaces of her life pre-Slating, Kyla heads to a remote mountain town to try to reunite with the birth mother she was kidnapped from as a child. There she is hoping all the pieces of her life will come together and she can finally take charge of her own future. But even in the idyllic wilderness and the heart of her original family, Kyla realizes there is no escape from the oppressive Lorders. Someone close to her may be one of them, and even more frighteningly, her birth mother has been keeping secrets of her own.

In this stunning series finale, Kyla finally finds out who she really is—and the road to this discovery, and to deciding who she wants to become, is full of dangerous twists and turns that will keep readers riveted.

Praise for the Slated trilogy:

“Even if you’re sick of teenage dystopias, this paranoid mind-wiping novel will thrill you.”—io9

“A refreshing change from the often overly naïve heroines of recent YA science fiction. . . . Stands out from the dystopian pack. . . . Readers will anxiously await sequels to come.”—The Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books

“Terry’s world is remarkably like today’s. . . . The romance and politics keep suspense ratcheted up. . . . Intriguing—readers will be on tenterhooks for the next one.”—Kirkus Reviews

“A suspenseful page-turner with a highly sympathetic and strong female protagonist. A perverse sense of claustrophobic dread grows throughout the novel. . . . Will have readers waiting eagerly for a sequel.”—Booklist
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Editorial Reviews

“Terry’s dystopian trilogy comes to a close, after Fractured, with lots of adrenalin-inducing action, thought-provoking situations, and questions finally answered. . . . Terry’s writing is as tight, compelling, and descriptive as ever.”
Voya Reviews, April 2014 (Vol. 36, No. 1) - Lucy Schall
In this final book, Lucy/Rain/Kyla becomes Riley Kain, a fugitive who seeks the truth about her stolen past as she tries to overthrow the Lorder corrupt government. Her stop at Image Enhanced Technology gives her a more sophisticated look that includes thicker, brown hair and high-tech glasses that change her signature eyes so she can elude the evil Lorders. Then MIA hides her with her “real” mother, who runs a home for girls. As Riley searches her complicated personal history, dreams and flashbacks that slating could not completely erase enable her to discover her family’s treachery and her central role in government revolution. In spite of extensive exposition, Shattered is not a stand-alone. The many characters and organizations, as well as a convoluted plot, make this a challenging read. Riley’s impetuous and questionable decisions that could easily destroy her in this dystopian setting reduce the story’s credibility, but the nick-of-time ending that reveals her heritage requires the greatest suspension of belief. Neither the government nor the general population knows about the abuses that have gone on for over sixteen years. One testimonial film turns the tide without any skeptical challenges, and the major “good guys” get second chances. This is a very popular series, and if you have the first two books, you definitely need the third, but hopefully readers will move on to more solid literature. Reviewer: Lucy Schall; Ages 11 to 18.
School Library Journal
Gr 7 Up—While this exciting final book in the "Slated" trilogy starts off with more questions than answers, the ending provides some satisfying resolutions to both character development and the mysteries that infuse the previous installments. Kyla (aka Lucy, aka Rain), is on the run after a terrorist (or freedom-fighter) attack on her life. She's changed her look and her name again (now she wants to be known as Riley) as she makes her way back to her mother, the same woman who ended up in the hands of antigovernment activists. Riley thinks she'll finally get some answers. A trip to her childhood home helps recover more of the memories that had been Slated away. Riley starts asking more questions about her birth, how she ended up in dangerous company, and why she was placed in the home of a high-ranking government official after Slating. The story is gripping and suspenseful, and the final revelations are a bit deus ex machina but rewarding nonetheless. Readers who have enjoyed the first two installments will not be disappointed by the dramatic conclusion.—Kyle Lukoff, Corlears School, New York City
Kirkus Reviews
A girl with many names adds even more in this final book in the Slated trilogy, set in a dystopian future England controlled by the Law and Order Party. Kyla, known as Lucy in her previous, pre-Slating life and Rain in her brief career with the Antigovernment Terrorists, is on the run from the "Lorders" with help from the rebel group Missing In Action and a new look courtesy of Image Enhancement Technology. Kyla returns to the place where she started out as Lucy, now using the name Riley. She is assigned to the Waterfall House for Girls, which is coincidentally run by her previous mother, Stella. Anyone unfamiliar with the first two books will be utterly at sea, and even those who have read them may want to dip into them as a refresher before tackling this conclusion. The AGT are now the bad guys along with the Lorders. Riley/Kyla/Rain/Lucy must develop strong friends and allies to survive, as well as to make sense of her slowly returning knowledge of the past. Somewhat convoluted and improbable events bring the series to a conclusion with a suitably optimistic tone. A sense of impending doom often fails to deliver, and the obligatory romantic triangle falls as flat as the premise. Though this series started strong, it ends with a whimper. (Dystopian romance. 12-18)
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781101591734
  • Publisher: Penguin Group (USA)
  • Publication date: 5/1/2014
  • Series: Slated Series , #3
  • Sold by: Penguin Group
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 320
  • Sales rank: 35,466
  • Age range: 12 - 17 Years
  • File size: 2 MB

Meet the Author

Teri Terry (, Canadian by birth, has lived in France, Canada, Australia and England, at more addresses than she can count. She’s been a scientist, lawyer, optometrist and business manager, and worked in high schools and libraries, with writing and stories always humming along in the background. Because moving constantly has kept her on the outside looking in much of her life, she has an obsession with characters who don’t belong or find themselves in unfamiliar places. Slated was her first novel, and she recently completed a research MA on the depiction of terrorism in young-adult literature. She lives in Buckinghamshire, United Kingdom.
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Read an Excerpt

It doesn’t look like much from the outside. But what you get outside is often like that. People, especially, can be so different from what you can see that you’d never guess what goes on in their secret places. What they are capable of. In my case, what lurked within was so well hidden even I didn’t know about it.
     Aiden parks the car along the side of the rundown building. He glances at me. “Don’t look so scared, Kyla.”
     “I’m not,” I start to object, but then I glance at the road, and all at once, I am. “Lorders,” I hiss, and scrunch down in the seat. A black van pulls in behind us, blocking us in. Leaden dread pools in my veins, holds me still and numb even as everything inside is screaming run. The fear takes me back: another time, another Lorder. Coulson. The gun in his hand, pointed at me, and then—
     Katran’s blood. A sea of hot red that covered us both, and took my friend away, forever. So like my father’s death years ago that it wrenched up that most buried memory. Both dead. Both my fault.
     Aiden puts a hand over mine, one worried eye on the mirror and the van, one on me. A door opens, someone steps out. Not dressed in Lorder black? A slight figure, a woman, hat pulled down low to shield her face. She walks to the door of the building. It opens from the inside, and she disappears through it.
     “Look at me, Kyla,” Aiden says, his voice calm, reassuring, and I tear my eyes away from the van behind us. “There is nothing to worry about; just don’t draw their attention.” He twists in the driver’s seat, slips his arms around me and tries to pull me close, but I’m rigid with fear. “Play along,” he says, and I force my body to relax into his. He murmurs into my hair, “Just giving them a reason why we were lingering. In case they’re getting curious.”
     I breathe in slow. They’re not after me. They’ll go away now. They’re not after me. And then I’m clinging to Aiden and his arms wrap around me even tighter. There are vehicle sounds behind; tires crunch on gravel. And keep going.
     “They’re gone,” Aiden says, but he doesn’t let go. And the relief is so strong that I sag against him, bury my face in his chest. His heart beats fast, drumming a thump-thump of safety, warmth, and something else.
     But this is wrong. He’s not Ben.
     My fear is replaced by embarrassment, then anger: anger at myself. I pull away. How could I be such a total wimp, and let them get to me like that? How could I cling to Aiden just because I was scared? And I remember what he said on the way earlier: Lorders come here. Lorders, government officials, and their families. People with money and power who can make others look away and keep quiet. That woman is probably a Lorder’s wife. She is probably here for the same reason as me. I flush.
     Aiden’s blue eyes are warm, concerned. “Are you sure you can pull this off, Kyla?”
     “Yes. Of course I can. And I thought you weren’t supposed to call me that anymore.”
     “It’d be easier if you’d make up your mind what your new name is going to be.”
     I don’t say anything, because I sort of have, but I don’t want to share it yet. I’m not sure he’ll like it.
     “Walk in like you own the place, and no one will look at you twice. It’s all anonymous.”
     “Best get going before anyone else comes.”
     More Lorders?
     I open the car door, step out. It is cold, a gray January day. The chill is reason enough for the scarf wrapped around my head, obscuring an identity that will soon change. I square my shoulders, walk to the door. It opens, and I step inside.
     My eyes widen; my feet almost falter until I remember: Walk like I own the place. This shiny place, with enormous, plush chairs, soft music, and a smiling nurse? A guard stands discrete in the corner. The woman we saw come out of the Lorder van moments ago is ensconced in a chair with a wine glass in one hand.
     The nurse approaches, smiles. “Welcome. Do you know your number?”
     “7162,” I say, the number Aiden gave me earlier. Even though my name is best kept quiet, I’m not sure I like being known by a number, not after being Slated. Not after having a Levo around my wrist with my number carved into it, classifying me as a criminal for all to see. It’s gone now; there are no visible marks left behind, but the scars remain.
     The nurse checks a handheld screen, smiles again. “Have a seat for a moment. Your IMET consultant will be with you very soon.”
     I sit, startled when the chair moves, adjusts to my body. IMET: Image Enhancement Technology. Barely whispered about, hellishly expensive, and totally illegal. I’m here courtesy of favors owed to Aiden’s organization, MIA. MIA may stand for Missing in Action, but it turns out they don’t just find missing people and campaign for the truth about the Lorders to be revealed. Turns out they also sneak people out of the UK who need to disappear, and others in at the same time: IMET consultants who know a good black market opportunity when they see one.
     The woman in the other chair turns toward me. She is attractive, fifty or so. If the rumors are true she’ll look twenty years younger before she leaves this place. There is an inquisitive glint to her eyes, a what are you here for? look. I ignore her.
     A door opens and footsteps approach. She starts to get up, but the steps continue past her, and a man stops in front of me. A doctor? But not like any doctor I’ve seen before: He is in scrubs, but they are a bright purple shimmery fabric. It matches his streaked hair and purple eyes to perfection, unnatural shimmer and all.
     He holds out both hands, helps me up, and air kisses my cheeks. “Hello, darling. I’m Doc de Jour, but you can call me DJ. This way.” His words are a lilting drawl, an unfamiliar accent: Irish?
     I follow him and suppress a smirk at the indignant look on the waiting woman’s face. She must wonder who I am, why I take precedence. If she only knew.
     IF she knew, it’d go straight to her Lorder husband.
     Doc de Jour is disappointed in me. “Are you sure that is all you want done? Hair. In brown.” He says it like brown hair is the ultimate crime of mediocrity. But blending in is what I need.
     “Yes: brown.”
     He sighs. “Such lovely hair you have, and so hard to match. Like sunshine on early daffodils 12. With highlights 9.” He runs his fingers through it, a measuring look in his eyes, like he is copying it for his next patient. Then he studies my face. “How about eye color?”
     “No. I like them green.”
     “They’re distinctive; it’s a risk,” he says, and my eyes widen. What does he know?
     He winks. “They are an interesting shade. Almost apple-green 26, but more intense,” he says, then spins the chair I’m sitting in around and looks me up and down. I squirm. “Wouldn’t you like to be taller?”
     I raise an eyebrow. “You can do that?”
     “Of course. It’ll take a while, though.”
     I bristle. “What is wrong with my height?”
     “Nothing. If you don’t mind jumping to see over things.”
     “Just the hair.”
     “Brown. You know IMET is accelerated gene-tech: it is permanent? Brown hair forever. It’ll grow that way; no more blondy ever again, unless you come back to see me.”
     He hands me a mirror and I look in it. So weird to think next time I do this I won’t see the hair I’ve always had. The color is okay I guess, but it is so fine—I always wanted thicker hair. Like Amy’s gorgeous dark hair, the first thing I’d noticed about my new sister when I was assigned to live with her family as a new Slated, just months ago. “Wait a minute. I wonder if . . .”
     He leans down and stares into my eyes with his purple ones. They’re hard not to look at. “Yes?”
     “Can you make it longer? And thicker. Maybe . . . some streaks in it. Not anything weird: natural looking.”
     He claps his hands. “Consider it done.”
     Later I’m told to lie back on a table that is like the chairs in the waiting area: it molds and grips my body. Flutters of panic fight to keep me awake. Is this how it was when I was Slated? Then, I had no choice; I saw the file photograph. I was tied to a table like any other criminal. The Lorders and their surgery stole my memories, put a chip in my brain that could’ve killed me before my Levo was taken off. This isn’t the same. This is just hair. And it is my choice: I don’t have to do this.
     There is faint music. Everything is misty and vague, and my eyes start to close.
     Just hair . . . but it is the hair Ben slipped his fingers through when he kissed me.
     Since the Lorders took him away and erased his memory, he doesn’t know who I am anymore. But what if he fights it, fights what the Lorders have done to him, and starts to remember? Starts to understand why I’m his dream girl. What then? He’ll never find me if I look different.
     I swallow, struggle to form words, to tell them to stop, I changed my mind.
     Ben . . .
     Faces blur in and out and vanish.
     We run. Side by side in the night, but Ben’s long legs beat out a slower measure than mine. It is raining, but we don’t care. Up a dark hill now, he slips ahead; the narrow path cut into rock is running with water. Soon we’re soaked and covered in mud. He’s laughing when he reaches the top, and raises his hands to the sky as the rain pounds harder.
     “Ben!” I reach up, slip my arms around him, and pull him under a tree, then burrow into his warmth.
     But something isn’t right.
     “Ben?” I pull away a little, look into familiar eyes: brown like melted chocolate, shot through with warm glints. Puzzled eyes. “What is it?”
     He shakes his head, pushes me away. “I don’t understand.”
     “I thought I knew you, but I don’t. Do I?”
     “It’s me! It’s . . .” My voice trails away. I panic inside, casting about for a name, not just any name but MY name. Who am I, really?
     He shakes his head, walks away. Runs up the path and is gone.
     I sag against the tree. What now? Should I run after him, just so he can deny me again? Or go back the other way, alone.
     The sky lights up: a blinding flash dazzles my eyes, shows the trees and pounding rain. Before darkness returns a tremendous crash shakes into my bones.
     While the rest of me whirls with pain at Ben’s departure, some part of my brain processes: standing under a tree in a thunderstorm is dangerous.
     But who am I, really? Until I can answer, I don’t know which way to go.

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Sort by: Showing all of 3 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 3, 2014


    I love the series.

    1 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 16, 2014


    Best trilogy the author could have made to end the book. Not like some of the trilogies out there...

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 6, 2014

    No text was provided for this review.

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