Ruby had no inkling that this giant snowball had rolled over her blog, making it a must-read for thousands of strangers. How could she? It probably happened a little like this: lots of people put the title of the new film into a search engine to find out more. What they found, in addition to all the movie publicity, was Ruby’s blog. Noah’s technical wizardry had served her well. When setting up her blog he had made sure that certain key words contained within it would be linked with millions of invisible pathways all over the internet. And so, every time somebody searched for the name ‘Robin Hood’ or even ‘Robyn Hood’ (if they couldn’t spell or type well), or for ‘stealing’ or ‘shoplifting’, it would trigger one of these pathways, and create a direct link to Ruby’s blog. Soon, tens, then hundreds, then thousands of people had stumbled across it. Many of them took no notice of it at all, but there were others who took the trouble to read her words, and some of them liked what they found. These people added Ruby’s blog to their favourites, and some of them told their friends about it, who told their friends. Then there were others, who were shocked or horrified by what they read. They too told other people about the blog; a few of them even wrote about it in their own blogs. The more that it was read, the more prominent it became in the results of every search engine. Within days, Ruby’s blog had a become a snowball of its own, picking up followers and detractors from across the web.
The first she knew of it was when she logged in to write a new entry, a week after she’d been caught at Zenda. It had taken her that long to calm down and process what had happened, and she hadn’t even been sure that she wanted to blog again. It wasn’t just having to face the humiliation of admitting in print that she’d been caught after all her bravado, it was the fact that unless she went out shoplifting again, she wouldn’t have anything to write about. What, she thought, is the point of having a blog about shoplifting if you don’t do it? It’s like writing about who makes the juiciest burgers, and deciding to become a vegetarian. What changed her mind was the realisation that writing her blog calmed her; she could tell it things she couldn’t tell her friends. If she wasn’t going to go out shoplifting again, she needed this release more than ever. Her last entry had been her bravest to date: it not only detailed what she’d been up to, but also gave practical tips on how best to shoplift.
She logged on to see this, at the bottom of the entry:
Followers: 1633
Comments: 280
At first, she thought she had opened the wrong blog. Surely it must be a mistake? 1633 followers? As far as she knew, Noah was her blog’s only follower, if not its only reader. But then she began to look at the comments and she knew, with certainty, that many, many people really had read her blog.
This blog epitomises everything that’s wrong with society and young people today. Proud of yourself, are you, Robyn? You have no morals. Your parents should be ashamed of you. I’m disgusted.
Barbara Flowers, Kent
You’re going to burn in hell Robyn Hood.
Godisgreat
Way 2 go Robyn! Share the wealth!
Old Socialist
I think you’re making it all up. You don’t even have the guts to reveal your real name.
Anonymous
You’re deluded. Just because you’re giving the things you steal to charity doesn’t make it right. If you want to help a charity shop, go and volunteer at one.
Carol Miller
Where are the charity shops you take your stuff to? I wanna buy your gear.
Maid Marian
I’ve got a shoplifting tip for you: don’t do it!
Mark, Runcorn
I’m sick of being ripped off by big stores too. They don’t even miss the stuff shoplifters take – they’re insured for it.
Anya, Romford
I work in a clothes shop and it’s people like you who make my job a misery and keep the prices high. Get over yourself.
Lisa
I used to shoplift all the time and I never got caught. I only stopped because I got bored of doing it. Bet you will too one day.
Martina, Worcester
Hey Robyn, I want a brand new PlayStation. Any tips on how to steal one? Where’s the best place to go?
Robin Banks
Some free advice for you: don’t think that you can’t get done before you leave the shop. They can do you for concealing something too, if they catch you putting it in your bag or coat. They argue you clearly intended to steal it. It’s worth remembering this.
Natalie, Barnes
Charity begins at home, not at your local department store.
Megan
‘Oh my God! Oh my God!’ Ruby exclaimed, as she scrolled her way down. She was too excited to stay seated, so she jumped up and paced around her bedroom, in an attempt to burn off the adrenalin that was sparking through her body. Her arms and legs felt tingly and hot; she could barely control them. Who were all those people? How had they found her blog? Why were some of them saying such nasty things about her?
‘Oh my God! Oh my God!’ She needed to talk about it. To tell someone. Who could she call? Only Noah, of course. Had he seen the comments on her blog? Why hadn’t he told her about them? Was he upset with her? Thank goodness she’d got his mobile number from him on the evening they’d kissed. She hadn’t used it until now because she wasn’t sure quite what she felt about him. They’d made no future plans when she’d left his house, and they hadn’t bumped into each other in the street since, which she was glad about because she wasn’t sure what she would have said. At school she’d kept out of his way, not exactly avoiding him, smiling and saying hello, but never stopping long enough to have a proper conversation.
She’d been thinking about him a great deal though, more than she had in years (which wasn’t saying very much, given that she’d hardly thought of him at all since they were kids). All she knew was that she liked him and that she’d enjoyed kissing him, but beyond that, she didn’t know what she wanted from him. He wasn’t her boyfriend or even a proper friend, at least not in the way that her other friends were. It was difficult to see how that would change. What did they have in common, apart from her blog and the fact they lived in the same street? Yet he was such easy company, and being around him made her feel safe and calm – emotions which she rarely felt when she was with her other friends, or anybody else for that matter. It was because she didn’t have to try with him; she could be herself and he accepted it. Nothing she did or said ever shocked or upset him, or made him stop liking her. He got her.
How, she wondered, was it possible that they were the same age, when he seemed so much older and wiser than her? Boys were supposed to be more immature, weren’t they? That was why girls her age went out with boys Ross’s age. But Noah made Ross look like a stupid kid. Ross was a stupid kid. If she was honest with herself, she much preferred Noah …
There was just too much to think about. Her brain was beginning to hurt. Before she could change her mind, she found Noah’s number in her address book and pressed Call. She had butterflies in her tummy, which she thought weird, because calling Noah really shouldn’t have made her nervous.
‘Hey!’ she said, when he picked up.
‘Hey Ruby, how are you?’ he said. He sounded flustered, and that made her feel jittery too.
‘I’m OK,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Listen, have you seen my blog? It’s all gone mental.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I haven’t looked at it since … Not for a while, anyway. What’s happened?’
‘Just look!’
‘OK, OK,’ he said. ‘I’m logging in now. Hang on a second … Wow! You have so many followers. Where did they all come from?’
‘I don’t have a clue! I thought you might know something.’
‘Nothing to do with me, I promise,’ he said. ‘I haven’t told anyone anything.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Jeez, I’ve just read some of the comments! They’re a bit full-on.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ Ruby said. ‘A bit nasty and scary.
They can’t find out who I am or where I live, can they?’
‘Course not,’ said Noah. ‘There’s no way. I’ve got it all encrypted for you.’
‘Phew,’ she said, allowing herself to be reassured, even though she wasn’t certain what encrypted meant. ‘Thanks. Where did they all come from? I mean, why are they reading my blog?’
‘I dunno. I can find out exactly for you if you like.’
‘Yeah, how?’
‘By … It’s techie stuff. Don’t think you want to know. Honestly.’
She giggled. ‘I guess not.’
‘It’s probably key words. Thinking about it, that Robin Hood film is about to come out, isn’t it? Robin Hood stuff is everywhere.’
‘I didn’t think of that. So they all think my blog is something to do with the film?’
‘Maybe. Hey, people could think it’s some sort of viral marketing campaign. They must be really confused.’
‘Yeah.’ She laughed again. ‘They’re looking for Sherwood Forest and they get our local high street.’ She paused for thought. ‘God, Noah, it’s weird knowing all those strangers have read what I wrote and are judging me. I think some of them really hate my guts.’
‘They’re just nutters. Ignore them. And look, some of them think you’re great. Did you read this one? It’s from someone called Charley. He cleared his throat. I love your blog, she says, I shoplift too and you totally understand how I feel. I don’t feel so alone now.’
‘Wow!’ Ruby said. ‘I didn’t think I was actually helping people. That’s cool.’
‘Yeah, and this one … They don’t give a name. Stealing gives me a lift too. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop. I don’t even want the stuff. Now I’ve read your blog, I’m going to take it all down to the charity shop tomorrow.’
‘I’m an inspiration!’ said Ruby, in a self-mocking tone, although she was beaming inside. She liked having that much attention, even if nobody knew who she was. ‘That’s so weird. Oh my God.’ She couldn’t help grinning. ‘So how are you, Noah?’
‘I’m good,’ he said. ‘I’m fine. I haven’t seen you around much this week. What have you been up to?’
‘Oh you know, this and that.’
‘Right,’ he said.
‘But none of that,’ she added. ‘I really have been trying.’
‘That’s great,’ he said. He sounded happy for her. ‘I knew you could do it.’ There was a silence. ‘Uh, about the other night … I was hoping we’d bump into each other …’
Ruby felt her face glow hot. ‘I know. I guess we’ve both been busy.’
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Probably. I would have called you, but I realised you didn’t give me your number when I gave you mine. I should have asked. Anyway, I’ve got it now … I was going to say … Listen, what are you up to?’
‘You mean now?’ she asked.
‘Yeah. It’s just, I don’t know if you want to … I was wondering if … Do you want to come round?’
‘I don’t know. I mean, I was just about to write a blog entry,’ she said, truthfully. To her surprise, going round to Noah’s struck her as an appealing idea. She didn’t want an excuse not to go. ‘But it won’t take long,’ she added. ‘Give me half an hour.’
It was strange writing for an audience, instead of only for herself. It made her self-conscious about which words she used and, for the first time, she felt she didn’t know where to start. Conscious of the time, she decided just to bash something out. People would think whatever they wanted to think, anyway. They always do. Instead of what really happened at Zenda, she wrote what she imagined would have happened had that expedition been successful. It was a short piece of fiction, based partially on reality, a bit like doing her English language coursework. She wondered what her English teacher would think were she to hand in her blog one day. What a way to confess that would be! She felt a bit of a fraud for lying, but it was her blog and she could write whatever she wanted, couldn’t she? If thousands of people were reading it now, it wouldn’t be fair to disappoint them by admitting she’d been caught, that it had terrified her, and so she wasn’t planning to shoplift again. But she didn’t put in as much detail as usual, for fear of tripping herself up (and, more trivially, because she wanted to make sure she had time to redo her make-up before she went round to see Noah). When she’d finished, she felt satisfied and full of anticipation for the comments she might receive. Noah will understand why I’ve lied, she told herself. And isn’t lying better than stealing?
He was very understanding, although the truth was they didn’t do much talking. Somehow, within minutes of arriving at Noah’s house, Ruby found herself kissing him again. Or maybe it was he who kissed her. Either way, this time Ruby couldn’t make any excuses. While kissing someone once could be called an accident, doing it twice means you must really like them.
Robyn Hood’s Blog
I steal from expensive stores and give to charity shops
March 24
I’m getting better at this. Better and bolder. The other day, I went into one of those really posh shops, the ones where everything is made of silk and leather and cashmere, and where all the customers have swishy, glossy hair with highlights, and perfect nails with matching lipstick, and I took two tops. One of them was a bright apple-green blouse with a pussy bow, and the other one was a wine-red coloured tunic, with purple and pink winter roses splattered all over it. They were both made from pure silk and were crazily expensive for tops, and I have no idea when anybody would wear them, but they felt so soft and so smooth, and they even smelled expensive, which would make you want them anyway. I knew I couldn’t resist them, even though if I’d put either of them on I’d have looked like I was a kid who’d raided the dressing-up box.
I was in and out of the shop in ten minutes, the tops folded neatly in my bag. The tags weren’t hard to get off; they were the type you can deactivate with a magnet. I decided to split them between two of my favourite charity shops, telling each of them the same story about how my mum had bought a top for a posh do, but had put on so much weight she couldn’t wear it any more. Like all the best lies, it was almost true: Mum is always getting rid of clothes because she’s put on weight. It’s all those cakes and biscuits she bakes for everyone; she says she never eats them herself, but I’ve seen her scoffing the broken bits (she tells herself they don’t count because they’re not actual biscuits). Mum hates getting rid of her clothes. She’ll keep them for a couple of years first, in the hopes that she’ll get back into them, but she never does.
The charity shops were very grateful for ‘Mum’s weight gain’ – the volunteer at the sick animals shop put the applegreen blouse straight on the mannequin in the window. She said she could probably sell it for fifteen quid. The tunic with roses on has been priced at twelve. Job done.
Posted by Robyn Hood at 9:32 PM
Comments: 351
Followers: 3200
Blog Archive
Links
Chapter 16
When Ruby woke up on Monday morning, she was a celebrity, although she didn’t yet know it. Over the weekend, a national newspaper journalist had found out about the growing popularity of Robyn Hood’s blog and written an article blaming young people like her for all society’s ills. Maybe it was a good thing she didn’t see it, because it called her ‘morally vacant’, ‘deluded’ and ‘in serious need of discipline and education’. Within hours, almost a hundred thousand people had looked at her blog. By Monday, other papers had picked up on the story, and it had begun to be discussed on the radio and on TV. Ruby’s mum, who had the day off work, actually heard one of the broadcasts as she made lunch, although she was, of course, totally oblivious to the fact that it was about her daughter, or that the blog in question was produced in the room directly above her head.
‘And today, listeners, we’re talking about shoplifting. A mystery teenage blogger who claims to steal from expensive stores and give her spoils to charity shops is generating furious debate. Do yo
u think that she’s a modern day Robin Hood? Is she deluded? Why, as a government report revealed last week, is shoplifting on the rise? Have you ever done it? Did you get caught? Call in now with your stories and views.’
Interesting, thought Pam Collins, only half-listening as she scraped butter across a slice of toast and planned her afternoon activities. She was going to have her hair done and she had a dentist’s appointment, and she also needed to pop into the supermarket, and pay in a cheque.
Ruby’s dad heard a similar radio phone-in show as he drove up the motorway to a conference. He had stopped off at a service station for a coffee and only tuned into the discussion halfway through.
‘So what you’re saying is that if you give what you’ve stolen to a good cause, it’s OK?’ said the presenter.
‘Yeah, it’s for charity, innit?’ said a man with a deep voice.
‘But surely being charitable means donating your own possessions, not those that belong to someone else? I’ll remind you, the blogger who calls herself Robyn Hood is shoplifting and then giving the goods to charity shops to ease her own conscience.’
‘Yeah,’ said the man. ‘It’s cos it’s all so expensive, right?’