Lifted

  ‘Yeah, right. I don’t think so – not with my brain,’ she said. ‘So that thing you’re always working on, you know, your project, what exactly is it?’

  Noah hesitated. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t say. It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just really big, it could get me into tons of trouble.’

  She looked at him quizzically. ‘More trouble than I could get into?’

  ‘Way, way more trouble. They could lock me up for it big time.’

  ‘Seriously, Noah?’ Ruby didn’t want to show it, but she found the idea of Noah doing something risky, something illegal, rather thrilling. It made him seem intriguing, a little bit James Bond. She’d always thought he was super-straight and sensible.

  ‘Yes, seriously. One hundred percent seriously.’

  ‘So what are you doing? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.’

  He swallowed hard. ‘OK, if you really want to know, I’ve found a way of hacking into websites. I’ve exposed all these security gaps, especially in the bank ones. If I wanted to, I could steal thousands of pounds.’

  Oh my God, thought Ruby, we’re not so different after all. ‘Wow!’ she said. ‘That’s scary.’

  ‘Yeah. I’m trying to figure out the best way to reveal what I’ve found, without getting myself into deep trouble. Because if I’m doing it, you can bet someone else will be too.’

  Ruby took his hand. She had the urge to kiss him, but things had been a little awkward in that department since she’d asked if they could cool their relationship. ‘Don’t worry, I swear I won’t tell anyone.’ It was a such a shame she couldn’t, she thought, because that kind of information would definitely change her friends’ opinions of Noah. It would make Amanda’s eyes pop out of her head!

  He smiled. ‘Thanks. I can’t believe I’ve told you. But it actually feels good to have said it out loud.’

  ‘Hey, maybe you should write a blog about it!’

  He laughed. ‘I think I’ll leave the words to you. I’ll stick with the numbers.’

  ‘So what are you going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know yet. I’m working on it. You?’

  ‘God knows. Sorry to ask again but, Noah, you are sure that my blog is safe?’

  ‘Yes, I swear.’

  She should have felt reassured, but she didn’t. The problem was, a big part of her wanted someone to find out who she really was. It had begun to dawn on her that she’d never enjoy any of the benefits of her blog’s popularity unless people knew her real name. Robyn Hood was famous (or perhaps that should be infamous), but Ruby Collins was still a nobody, just a schoolgirl with an anxious mother, a rubbish dad, friends she couldn’t entirely trust, and a super-complicated love life. She knew that soon people would grow tired of Robyn Hood and move on to the next thing. That’s what always happened. So maybe this was her only chance to be someone? But if she did reveal herself, everybody would know that she was a thief. Her parents would be devastated and blame themselves, and her friends would hate her for not trusting them enough to confide in them. Plus, if she ended up with a criminal record she might not be able to go to university or get a good job.

  It was, Ruby thought, a bit like admiring a scene inside a snow globe and knowing that, however much you want to, you can never be a part of it. You’ll never be tiny enough to fit inside the glass, and even if you manage to shrink yourself down, trying to climb in would make it shatter into tiny pieces.

  It made her feel restless and confused and, when she walked past the shops on her way home from school, she started to get that itchy sensation again, the one that made her want to go in and steal something.

  Robyn Hood’s Blog

  I steal from expensive stores and give to charity shops

  April 16

  The newspapers are trying to find me. All I’ve got to say to them is: Blog Off.

  Everyone seems to have a different idea about who I am. People are playing detective games, trying to piece together the ‘clues’ from my blog to find out my identity. But how do you know that any of what I’ve told you so far is the truth? Maybe I’m not a girl, but a boy, or a man. Maybe I’m 21 or 52 or 73. Maybe I steal things but don’t give them to charity shops. Maybe I’ve never stolen anything at all in my life. Maybe I only said I wore a school uniform because I’m weird like that, or because I was going to a fancy-dress party. Maybe I’m actually a university student or a business woman. I could even be a teacher, or the Prime Minister. OK, probably not the Prime Minister but, hey, I might be already famous, too famous to write a blog using my real name. So famous that if I was caught shoplifting, my life would be over. Just think what people would say if it turned out I was an actor or a TV presenter?

  What I don’t get is, why do people care? Why does it matter to you who I am or what I am? It never did before. And do you know what’s funny? I bet if you really did know my identity, you wouldn’t be interested in me at all.

  Posted by Robyn Hood at 2.05 PM

  Comments: 361

  Followers: 5822

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  Chapter 19

  ‘It’s seven-fifteen a.m. and you’re listening to Sunshine Radio. We’re delighted to say that we’ve got Robyn Hood on the line today. Yes, you heard right, THE Robyn Hood. She said she’s a fan of the show and she’s chosen to get in touch with US here at Sunshine Radio! Hello, Robyn, thanks so much for joining me.’

  ‘Hi, Graham.’

  ‘So how does it feel to finally go public?’

  ‘It feels great! I’m so glad to talk to you. I’ve had enough of hiding. I want to get out there and show the world who I am.’

  ‘Let’s get back to basics. Tell me, Robyn, why did you decide to start writing your blog?’

  ‘I did it because I wanted people to know how exciting it is to rip off the shops …’

  Ruby thought she must be in the middle of a nightmare. Robyn Hood was talking on the radio but she didn’t sound like herself at all. Her voice was much higher in tone – a little squeaky to be frank – and she was saying things she would never have said. Things like, ‘I’d love to have my own range in charity shops one day, that’s a cool idea, Graham’ and ‘Sure, I might think about posing for one of the men’s magazines with only a bow and arrow, as long as it was tasteful’. But this couldn’t be a nightmare because her eyes were open, and her arm felt numb because she’d been lying on it, and she could see light streaming in through the gap in the curtains. It couldn’t be a nightmare because she was fully conscious, aware that she was lying in bed, and she could tell that her mouth wasn’t moving, even though the voice kept talking. ‘I’m nineteen, really,’ it was saying. ‘Saying I was a schoolgirl was a red herring. I was teasing people, you know …’

  ‘Oh God!’ Ruby wrenched her duvet away from her body and threw it from her bed on to the floor. ‘Shut up! Shut up!’ She wanted to make the voice stop but she also felt compelled to listen to it. This was worse than any nightmare. Somebody was hijacking her blog live on the radio, pretending to be her, and worse, changing everyone’s opinions about her. If the radio station believed the girl they were interviewing was Robyn Hood – and hadn’t they done any proper checks? – then so would the listeners. She knew it was partly her own fault for putting misleading information in her blog, information that meant anybody could now justifiably claim to be Robyn Hood. But she’d only done that to make a point, to protect herself. Instead, she was losing control of her own identity, of her ‘brand’ – for that was what Robyn Hood had become. There were even new blogs springing up all over the web, purporting to be written by Robyn Hood. Soon, nobody would remember which was the original one. And who would care?

  Ruby was running late for school, but that didn’t matter. She couldn’t leave things as they were. Hurriedly, she logged into her blog and, in huge capital letters typed.

  I AM THE REAL ROBYN HOOD. THE ONLY ONE. I WAS NOT ON SUNSHINE RADIO THIS MORNING. I HAVE NEVER BEEN ON ANY RADIO STATION OR ANY TV S
HOW. WHOEVER THAT GIRL WAS, SHE WAS A FAKE.

  THIS IS MY ONLY BLOG. IGNORE THE OTHERS. PLEASE DON’T BELIEVE ANYTHING YOU READ IN THE PAPERS OR HEAR ON THE RADIO ABOUT ME. I AM A GIRL. I AM FIFTEEN YEARS OLD. I STILL GO TO SCHOOL. I PROMISE I WILL TELL YOU MORE ABOUT ME WHEN I’M READY. SOON.

  After typing and posting her message, she felt so wound up, she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She paced around her bedroom a few times, then climbed into the shower and stood under the stream of hot water until her skin was red and blotchy. She looked at her watch: it was almost eight o’clock. She wasn’t dressed, she hadn’t had breakfast, and Hanni would be waiting for her. Maybe she wouldn’t go to school after all. It was pointless; there was no way she’d be able to concentrate.

  She texted Hanni: Gt period pn. Cvr 4 me. CU ltr. Then she put on her school uniform anyway, because there was no way her mum would let her off school, not unless she had a temperature of a hundred and five, or was covered in boils, or was coughing up her lungs (or probably, all three at once). She’d make out that she was going to school as usual, hang out somewhere for a while, and then, when she was sure Mum had gone to work, she’d go back home. She looked out of the window. Noah had just left his house and was walking down his garden path, with his horrible brown nylon rucksack strapped to his back. He turned and looked up at her, and waved.

  ‘Wait!’ she mouthed.

  He stopped, suddenly, and his rucksack bounced awkwardly, jarring against him. Even from the vantage point of her bedroom window, Ruby could tell he looked surprised and confused. Although he didn’t like it, he’d accepted that he and Ruby wouldn’t walk to school together because she always had to go with Hanni. Now, he’d be wondering whether she’d changed her mind, and why.

  ‘I’m coming down,’ she motioned. ‘Wait for me, please!’ She grabbed her school bag and rushed down the stairs, two at a time. ‘Mum,’ she shouted, as she opened the front door, ‘I’m running late, I haven’t got time for breakfast this morning. Gotta go, sorry! Bye!’ Before her mother had a chance to reply, she had slammed the door shut behind her.

  ‘Hey, what’s up?’ said Noah, as she approached him. He kissed her on the cheek and they hugged. ‘Is everything OK?’

  ‘Not really, I’m in a bit of a state,’ she said. She wondered if he’d noticed that she hadn’t even straightened her hair, like she usually did. She must have looked terrible. ‘Thanks for waiting for me. Have you got a couple of minutes?’ He nodded. ‘Can we just go round the corner, so Mum can’t see us? I’m not going to school this morning.’

  They sat on a wall outside someone’s house and she told him about the fake Robyn Hood on the radio, and the fake bloggers, and her fears that she was now losing control of her own blog. She didn’t tell him she was also afraid she was losing control of herself, that she was feeling the urge to shoplift again. ‘It’s really getting me down and I don’t know what to do about it,’ she said. ‘I don’t want other people getting famous because of my blog. I want people to know about me, who I am. I’m the one who wrote it. It’s all my thoughts and feelings.’

  ‘Yeah, but if you come forward then everyone will know about your stealing. You might get a criminal record. What about your parents? What about school? What about your mates?’

  ‘I know all that. But maybe I don’t care any more. Maybe it’s worth it. This could be my only chance in the whole of my life to make it big, to have people take notice of me. Everyone soon forgets why you’re famous, anyway. In the end they just remember your name, not why they know it.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea, Rubes,’ he said. He held out his hand to her. She glanced around, self-consciously, and took it, loosely.

  ‘But if I don’t come out, someone else is going to get all my publicity!’ she cried, then laughed out loud at herself. ‘God, I sound like a real diva now, I know. Sorry. It’s just the girl on the radio, she was such a bimbo. I don’t want people thinking I’m like her.’

  ‘But you didn’t start the blog to get famous, did you?’

  ‘Course not. I write a blog because it means I can be me, without being me. It means I can confess everything, blurt it all out, without getting into trouble. I didn’t dream anybody would read it, let alone that all this would happen. But now it has happened, maybe it’s fate. I can’t make it go back to the way it was.’

  ‘Honestly, you don’t have to do anything,’ he pleaded. ‘It’ll all die down soon. I can help you make Robyn Hood disappear, and start up a new blog for you, if that’s what you’d like. You don’t have to get into trouble with anyone. I’ll help you make it so you can just be you again.’

  ‘But I don’t want to be plain old Ruby Collins again,’ she said, dropping his hand. ‘I wish you understood that.’

  Chapter 20

  Pam was at her office desk, sorting through her emails, when her phone rang.

  ‘Hello, is this Mrs Collins, Mrs Pam Collins?’ said a voice she didn’t recognise. An officious, rather nasal voice, Pam thought. ‘Yes, speaking,’ she said brightly.

  ‘Mrs Collins, my name is Bob Owen. I’m the head of security at Kelly’s Department Store. I’m afraid we’ve got your daughter here. She’s been caught shoplifting.’

  Pam didn’t understand. ‘No, I’m sorry, there must be some mistake. My daughter is at school today. You must have the wrong number. Or the wrong name.’

  ‘Is your daughter’s name Ruby, Mrs Collins? Is she fifteen years old?’

  ‘Yes … but it’s not possible. I saw her leave for school myself. She was wearing her uniform.’

  ‘Mrs Collins, I regret to tell you it’s definitely not a mistake. Ruby is indeed wearing a school uniform. She gave us this number herself. She’s been very cooperative. If you like, we can put her on the phone for you to confirm it.’

  ‘Yes, please,’ said Pam. She still believed that this might be a hideous error, and that some other girl would come on the line, so she could say, ‘But you’re not my daughter!’

  There was a click and then Pam heard, ‘Muuuuum,’ in between heavy sobs and what sounded like, ‘I’m so sorry. So sorry.’ It was definitely Ruby’s voice, however much Pam wanted it not to be. Now she felt nauseous.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she said, although she didn’t mean it.

  Bob Owen came back on the line. ‘Was that your daughter Ruby?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Pam. ‘I still don’t understand. I’m sure there’s an explanation.’

  ‘I think you should come down to the store now, Mrs Collins, if that’s possible. We’ve already tried to contact Mr Collins, but he’s unobtainable.’

  No change there, then, Pam thought. It was selfish, but it hurt that Ruby had suggested calling him first. What did he ever do for her, except let her down? ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m at work. I’ll just let my manager know and then I’ll be straight there.’

  Pam had only ever been into Kelly’s at sale time, and only then to buy gifts. She found the store far too expensive and frivolous for her needs and she couldn’t imagine what Ruby was doing there, when she should have been at school. Bob Owen had told her he’d meet her at the office at the back, by the changing rooms, and as she walked past rows and rows of beautifully folded cashmere scarves, jewellery and cosmetics, she thought about Ruby, and wondered whether she had been a bad mother. Ruby had always been a good girl, not perfect, but she’d never been a worry, never got into drugs or joyriding or any of the other things teenagers might do.

  Had something changed, something that she hadn’t noticed? Yes, Ruby had been quiet lately, caught up in her thoughts, and she’d suddenly become interested in the news, which hadn’t preoccupied her before, but Pam had thought that was a good development, that it meant she was growing up and becoming aware of the world around her. She must have heard about all that Robyn Hood stuff. Pam had read about copycat shopliftings and thought how foolish those girls were; could Ruby have been influenced by them? Was it peer pressure that had turned her into a thief? The media had a lo
t to answer for, she thought.

  Bob Owen was waiting for her by the information desk, just as he’d said he would be. He was a tall man, wearing a dark suit, not a uniform, as she’d expected, and he had a rather world-weary expression on his face.

  ‘Mrs Collins?’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Pam. She tried to smile, and took his hand when it was offered to her, although she didn’t feel much like shaking it.

  ‘Follow me, please,’ he said.

  Without another word he led her into a back office. Ruby was sitting on a chair, behind a desk, her head in her hands. She looked up when Pam came in. Her eyes were puffy and red, and it was obvious she’d been crying for a long time.

  ‘Mum,’ she said.

  Pam wanted to be angry, to shake her and say, ‘What on earth have you been doing?’ She tried to look stern, but she couldn’t. Ruby was still her baby, her only child, and all she could do was walk over to her daughter and hug her, while she sobbed quietly in her arms.

  ‘Mrs Collins,’ said Mr Owen, pulling up another chair. ‘We need to discuss what happened.’

  Pam let Ruby go. ‘Of course,’ she said.

  ‘Ruby stole some hair accessories and a lipstick,’ he said. ‘We found them in her bag when she tried to exit the store. We’ve got it all on CCTV, if you’d like to see.’

  He pointed to a monitor on the desk and Pam watched the grainy footage of a girl who was unmistakably Ruby, walking around the shop floor, picking things up and then putting them down. At one point, she appeared to look right into the camera, and then she looked away, and put something into her school bag. This went on for a few minutes, until Ruby walked out of view.

  ‘This is when we apprehended her,’ said Mr Owen. He pointed to the screen, and Ruby came back into the frame. She was being led by a security guard, her hands above her head, as she was marched through the store in front of the other customers. When Ruby witnessed this, her humiliation on film, her sobs grew louder.