That’s right, Callum. Just drift away. Out of the house . . . back to the beach . . . back to Sephy . . .
She did make me laugh . . .
‘You’re not listening to a single word, are you?’ Mum’s rasp cut through my reverie.
‘I was listening,’ I denied.
‘What did I just say then?’
‘My new uniform is over my chair and I’m to get up extra early and have a wash before putting them on. My writing books are in the school bag under my bed,’ I repeated.
‘You heard me. That doesn’t mean you were listening!’ Mum replied.
I smiled. ‘What’s the difference?’
‘My reaction!’ Mum said at once. Smiling reluctantly, she sat down. The atmosphere wasn’t perfect, but at least it was better than it had threatened to be less than five minutes ago.
‘A son of mine at Heathcroft School.’ Dad shook his head, his spoon poised before his lips. ‘Imagine that!’
‘Shut up and eat your food, fool!’ Mum snapped.
Dad looked at her and burst out laughing. Everyone else joined in – except Lynette.
I spooned pasta and mince into my mouth, smiling as I chewed. To tell the truth, I was looking forward to school tomorrow. I was actually going to secondary school. I could make something of myself, do something with my life. Once I had a proper education behind me, no-one could turn around and say, ‘You’re not smart enough or good enough’. No-one. I was on my way UP! And with a proper education behind me, nothing could stand between Sephy and me. Nothing.
three. Sephy
I moved the cursor over to SHUT DOWN and clicked, yawning as I waited for my PC to switch off. It seemed to be taking for ever tonight. At last, there was a clunk and the screen went black. I pressed the button to switch off my monitor and switched off the loudspeakers. Now for a quick drink and then bed. First day of school tomorrow. I groaned at the thought. School! I’d see all my friends again and we’d have the usual conversations, about the places we’d visited, the films we’d seen, the parties we’d posed at – and before long it would be like we’d never been away from school at all. The same old faces, the same old teachers, the same old, same old! But that wasn’t strictly true, was it? At least tomorrow would be a bit different from the start of every other new term. Four noughts, including Callum, were starting at my school. Maybe he’d even be in my class. And if he wasn’t we were bound to share some lessons together. My best friend was going to attend my very own school. That one thought alone was enough to make me grin like a silly idiot!
‘Please God, let Callum be in my class,’ I whispered.
I walked out of my room and headed along the landing. Callum in my class . . . That would be so great! I was looking forward to showing him the playing fields and the swimming pool, the gym and the music rooms, the dining hall and the science labs. And I’d introduce him to all my friends. Once they got to know him, they’d think he was as great as I did. It was going to be wonderful.
I crept down the stairs. As thirsty as I was, I didn’t relish the prospect of running into Mother. She was so miserable. I couldn’t understand it. I could still remember when Mother had been all smiles and hugs and jokes – but that was long ago and far away now. About three years ago. Since then, there had been a complete change. Her sense of humour had grown old and died before the rest of her and these days her lips were turned down in a frown that was permanently carved into her skin.
I shook my head. If that’s what growing old was about then I never wanted to grow old. At least Dad was still fun – when he was around, which wasn’t often. Every adult I met for the first time loved to tell me how great my dad was – how he was so smart, so funny, so handsome, how he was destined to go all the way to the top. I’d’ve liked to discover those things about my dad for myself. A man with oily hands and a sweaty smell who came to Mother and Dad’s last dinner party had spent his entire time with me talking about how Dad would be Prime Minister one day and how I must be so proud of him. I mean, that man could’ve won a gold medal at the International Games for being the most boring person in the world. Why on earth would I care about Dad becoming the Prime Minister? I saw little enough of him as it was. If he became Prime Minister I’d have to watch the telly just to remember what he looked like.
‘Those bleeding heart liberals in the Pangaean Economic Community make sick! They said we in this country had to open our schools to noughts, so we did. They said we had to open our doors to recruiting noughts into our police and armed forces, so we did. And they’re still not satisfied. And as for the Liberation Militia, I thought letting a few blankers into our schools would spike their guns . . .’
I froze on the bottom step at the sound of Dad’s bitterly angry voice.
‘It wasn’t enough. Now the Liberation Militia have had one of their demands met, they don’t see why they can’t have a few more. And then it’ll be a few more after that.’ Another voice – Dad had a guest.
‘Over my cold and rotting body! I knew granting even one of the Pangaean EC’s demands was a mistake. God spare us from liberals and blankers!’
I winced at the venom in Dad’s voice. And I’d never heard him refer to noughts as blankers before. Blankers . . . What a horrible word! A nasty word. My friend Callum wasn’t a blanker. He wasn’t . . .
‘The Liberation Militia are growing impatient with the rate of change in this country. They want . . .’
‘And just who are “they”?’ Dad demanded. ‘Who’s the head of the Liberation Militia?’
‘I don’t know, sir. It’s been a slow business working my way up the ranks and the Liberation Militia are very careful. Each military group is divided into different cells or units, with multiple drop-off points if they want to communicate with others in the Militia. It’s very hard to find out who’s in charge.’
‘I don’t want excuses. Just do it. That’s what I’m paying you for. I’m not going to lose my place in the government because of some terrorist rabble-rousers.’
‘They call themselves Freedom Fighters,’ Dad’s guest stated.
‘I don’t care if they call themselves descendants of the angel Shaka, they’re scum and I want them wiped out. All of them.’
Silence.
‘I’ll keep working on it.’
Dad’s derisive snort was the only reply the other man got.
‘Sir, about these meetings . . . they’re becoming more and more dangerous. We should find a safer way to communicate.’
‘I still want these face-to-face meetings at least once a month.’
‘But it’s not safe,’ the man with Dad protested. ‘I’m putting my life on the line every time . . .’
‘I don’t want to hear it. You can e-mail me or phone as often as you like but I want to see you at least once a month. Is that understood?’ Dad snapped.
At first I thought the other man wasn’t going to answer. But at last he said, ‘Yes, sir.’
I tiptoed closer to the drawing room. Who was Dad talking to? I could only hear their voices.
‘Blankers going to my daughter’s school . . .’ I could almost hear Dad shaking his head. ‘If my plan doesn’t work, it’ll take a miracle to get re-elected next year. I’ll be crucified.’
‘There are only three or four going to Heathcroft, aren’t there?’ the other man asked.
‘That’s three or four more than I thought would pass the entrance exam,’ Dad said with disgust. ‘If I’d thought any of them stood a chance of passing the test, I would never have amended the education bill in the first place.’
Every word was like a poison dart. An icy shiver shot through me and it was like my heart was being ripped apart. I was so . . . so hurt. Dad . . . My dad . . .
‘Less than two dozen noughts are going to Cross schools nationwide. That’s not so many, surely?’ the other man pointed out.
‘When I want your point of view, I’ll buy it,’ Dad dismissed.
Did he even know that Callum was one of the noug
hts going to my school? Did he even care? I doubted it. I took another tentative step forward. I glanced across the hall. Dad’s reflection was clearly visible in the long hall mirror opposite the drawing room. I could only see the back of Dad’s guest reflected in the mirror as he had his back to the door, but I was more than a little stunned to see it was a nought. He had blond hair, tied back in a pony-tail and he was wearing a stained sheepskin coat and big brown boots with a silver-coloured chain above the heel of each one. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a nought in our house, except in the kitchen, or cleaning. Why was he here? Who was he? It didn’t make any sense. Nothing they were saying made any sense.
I took another step forward, my eyes still focused on the mirror across from the drawing room – which was my mistake. I tripped over the telephone cord making the phone drag slightly across the table. It wasn’t much of a noise. But it was enough. Dad looked around and saw me via the hall mirror just as I could see him. His guest turned around.
‘Sephy, go to bed – NOW.’
Dad didn’t even wait for me to leave before he slammed the drawing-room door shut. I’d barely gathered my scattered wits when the door opened again and Dad marched out alone, slamming the door shut behind him.
‘What did you see?’ he demanded as he strode over to me.
‘P-pardon?’
‘What did you see?’ Dad grasped my shoulders. A drop of spit came out of his mouth and landed on my cheek but I didn’t wipe it away.
‘N-nothing.’
‘What did you hear?’
‘Nothing, Dad. I just came down for a drink. I’m thirsty.’
Dad’s eyes blazed with rage as he scowled at me. He looked like he wanted to hit me.
‘I didn’t see or hear anything. Honest.’
Long moments passed before Dad’s grip on my shoulders slowly slackened off. His contorted face relaxed.
‘C-can I get my drink now?’
‘Go on then. Just hurry up.’
I walked off towards the kitchen even though I wasn’t thirsty any more. My heart was slamming against my ribs and my blood was roaring in my ears. I knew without turning around that Dad was still watching me. Once I reached the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of water and headed back up to my bedroom. I was out of Dad’s sight in the kitchen but I still went at a ‘normal’ pace, as if somehow he could see me through the walls. I left the kitchen and started to head upstairs, my glass of water in my hand.
‘Princess, wait . . .’ Dad called me back.
I turned my head.
‘I’m sorry I bit your head off.’ Dad forced a smile as he came up the stairs behind me. ‘I’ve been a bit . . . edgy all day.’
‘That’s OK,’ I whispered.
‘You’re still my princess, aren’t you?’ asked Dad, hugging me.
I nodded, trying to get past the lump in my throat. Trying not to spill my water.
‘Off you go to bed then.’
I carried on walking up the stairs, my pace carefully careless. And Dad stood in the hall, watching my every move.
four. Callum
I tipped everything out of my school bag and onto my bottom bunk-bed – for the umpteenth time. Ruler, pencil-case, pens, pencils, exercise book, calculator. I went through the list Heathcroft High had sent to my mum and dad. I had everything they’d specified and yet it still felt as if there was something missing, as if it wasn’t enough. I took the corner of my bed sheet and rubbed it over the calculator again. No amount of polishing would ever make this dinosaur calculator look brand new. I rubbed my hand over my tired eyes.
‘Don’t be so ungrateful. At least you’ve got a calculator.’ Just keep telling yourself that, Callum . . .
Slowly, carefully, I started packing all my school stuff back into my bag.
I’m lucky . . I’m lucky . . . I’m lucky . . . I’m going to school . . .
I played that one thought over and over again in my head, scared to let it go in case of what might happen. Someone knocked at my door. It was either Mum or Lynette. Jude didn’t knock, he just barged straight in and Dad never came into our room. If he wanted to talk to me, he always called me out on to the landing. I hoped it was Lynette.
Mum popped her head around the door. ‘Can I come in?’
I shrugged, placing my calculator on top of the other stuff in my bag. Mum came into the room, carefully shutting the door behind her. I could guess what was about to come next. She sat on my bed, picked up my school bag and immediately emptied everything out. Very carefully, Mum started packing all my stuff back. Moments passed before she spoke. ‘I just wanted to say that whatever happens tomorrow, well done for getting into Heathcroft High.’
That I hadn’t expected. I stared at her.
‘What d’you mean, whatever happens tomorrow?’
‘Nothing.’ Mum’s smile wobbled before disappearing altogether. ‘It’s just that . . . that I want you to be happy.’
‘I am happy.’ I frowned.
‘I don’t want to see you . . . upset. I don’t want you to get hurt.’
What on earth was she talking about? ‘Mum, I’m only going to school. I’m not going into the army!’
Mum’s attempt at a smile was back. ‘I know. But I think you and your father are underestimating how much of a . . . challenge it’s going to be. I don’t want to see you upset. Besides which . . . well, we’ve heard some rumours . . .’
‘What kind of rumours?’
‘Some of the Crosses aren’t happy about noughts going to their schools. We’ve heard rumours that some of them are determined to cause trouble. So, no matter what happens, don’t let yourself be provoked into lashing out. Don’t give them a reason to kick you out.’
‘Is that what you’ve been worrying about?’
Mum didn’t reply.
‘Don’t worry,’ I told her. ‘I’ve got into Heathcroft now and nothing, not even dynamite, is going to get me out again.’
‘Good for you.’ Mum stroked my cheek. I brushed her hand away. I mean, please!
‘Too old for that?’ Mum teased.
‘Much too old,’ I replied.
‘Too old for a kiss goodnight?’
I was just about to give Mum my honest opinion when the look on her face halted the words on my lips. I realized that the kiss wasn’t for my benefit, it was for hers.
‘Go on then. If you must,’ I grumbled, offering her my cheek.
Silence. I turned to see why the dreaded kiss hadn’t been delivered but the moment I looked at Mum she burst out laughing.
‘What’s so funny?’ I frowned.
‘You are, my darling.’ Mum put me in a bear hug and kissed my cheek like she was trying to burrow her lips into it. Jeez!
‘Make sure you set your alarm so you’ve got plenty of time for a wash before school.’ Mum stood up and headed for the door.
‘I’m not going to bed yet, Mum. I’m coming downstairs for a while to watch telly.’
‘Just for a little while. You’ve got school tomorrow.’ Mum wagged her finger. Her hand dropped to her side and she smiled. ‘You’ve got school tomorrow . . . I like the sound of that!’
‘So do I!’
Mum headed downstairs with me following close behind her. Halfway down the stairs, Mum stopped so abruptly that I almost collided with her.
‘Cal?’
‘Yes, Mum?’
‘You . . . you mustn’t think I’m not proud of you, ’cause I am.’
‘I know, Mum,’ I said.
Mum carried on walking downstairs. I thought about what she’d just said. The funny thing was, until she said it, I didn’t think she was proud of me. In fact, part of me still suspected that Mum would’ve rather I’d failed the Heathcroft High entrance exam. But I hadn’t. I’d passed. And no-one could take that away from me. I’d passed.
We walked into the downstairs room. Lynette and Dad sat on the sofa. Jude sat at the dinner table poring over what looked like a map – not that I was particularly interest
ed. Mum sat down next to Dad and I sat next to Lynette. It was a squash but a cosy squash.
I looked at my sister. ‘You OK?’
Lynette nodded. Then a slow-burning frown spread out over her face. And that look was back in her eyes. My heart plunged down to my shoes and bounced back up again.
Please, Lynette. Not tonight . . . not now . . .
‘Lynny, d’you remember my seventh birthday?’ I began desperately. ‘You took me to see my first film at the cinema. There was just you and me and you got annoyed with me because I wouldn’t take my eyes off the screen, not for a second. D’you remember you told me that I could blink because the screen wasn’t about to vanish. Lynny . .?’
‘Why am I here?’ My sister’s troubled grey eyes narrowed. ‘I shouldn’t be here. I’m not one of you. I’m a Cross.’
My stomach lurched, like I was in a lift which had suddenly plunged down at least fifty storeys in about five seconds flat. Every time I convinced myself that Lynette was getting better, she’d get that look on her face . . . She’d stare at us like we were all strangers and she’d insist she was one of them.
‘What’re you talking about. You’re a nought,’ Jude said with scorn. ‘Look at your skin. You’re as white as the rest of us. Whiter.’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘Jude, that’s enough,’ said Dad.
‘No, it’s not. I’m fed up with this. Keeping Lynette in this house so she won’t embarrass us by telling everyone she’s a Cross. She’s barking mad, that’s what she is. And Callum’s just as bad. He thinks he’s better than us and as good as the Crosses, even if he doesn’t say it.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I hissed.
‘No? I’ve seen you looking up at this house when you’ve come back from your dagger friend. I’ve seen you hating it and hating us and hating yourself because you weren’t born one of them,’ Jude spewed out. ‘I’m the only one of the three of us who knows what he is and accepts it.’
‘Now listen here, you brainless . . .’
Jude sprang out of his chair, but only a couple of seconds before I did.