‘Come on then, if you reckon you’re hard enough,’ Jude challenged.
I stepped forward but Dad got between the two of us before I could do little more than clench my fists.
‘See?’ Lynette’s small, puzzled voice rang out as clear as a bell. ‘I don’t behave like that. I can’t be a nought. I just can’t.’
All the fight went out of me. Slowly, I sat back down again.
‘Listen, Lynette . . .’ Mum began.
‘Look at my skin,’ Lynette spoke as if Mum hadn’t. ‘Such a beautiful colour. So dark and rich and wonderful. I’m so lucky. I’m a Cross – closer to God . . .’ Lynette looked around at all of us and smiled. A broad, beaming, genuinely happy smile that lit every line and crease of her face and squeezed my heart.
‘Stupid cow,’ Jude muttered.
‘That’s enough!’ Dad shouted at him.
Jude sat, a sullen, brooding look on his face. Lynette looked down at her hands stroking one over the other. I looked too. All I could see were pale white hands, blue veins clearly visible through the almost translucent skin. She looked up at me and smiled. I smiled back. Forced it really, but at least I tried.
‘Don’t you think I’m beautiful, Callum?’ Lynette whispered.
‘Yes,’ I replied truthfully. ‘Very.’
five. Sephy
I looked out of the car window, watching the trees and fields and sky melt and merge into each other in a passing blur. The first day of term. I sat up straighter, a smile of pure happiness creeping across my face. Callum . . . He alone made the first day of term new and exciting and different.
‘OK back there, Miss Sephy?’
‘Fine thanks, Harry.’ I directed my smile at our nought driver. He was watching me via the driver’s interior mirror.
‘Nervous?’
I laughed. ‘Are you kidding?’
‘I guess not,’ Harry replied ruefully.
‘Harry, could you drop me . .?’
‘Off around the corner from school.’ Harry finished for me.
‘If that’s OK.’
‘Well, it’ll have to be – won’t it?’ Harry shook his head. ‘If your mother finds out . . .’
‘She won’t.’
‘I still don’t see . . .’
I sighed. During term-time, Harry and I had this conversation at least three times a week.
‘Harry, you know how I get teased if my friends see you driving me. I get all kinds of comments about having feet which are too precious to touch the pavement or I get asked when I’m going to have my wings fitted and all sorts. I’m not in the mood to be teased – not on my first day back.’
‘I know but . . .’
‘Please?’
‘Oh, all right then.’
‘Thanks, Harry.’
‘If I get into trouble . . .’
‘You won’t. I promise,’ I smiled.
Harry turned into Cherry Wood Grove, a couple of streets away from Heathcroft, my school. I hopped out, dragging my school bag off the white leather seat.
‘See you later.’
‘Yes, Miss Sephy.’
I waited until Harry had driven off and was out of sight before taking a step. He’d caught me out like that before – pretending to drive off and then doubling back when my back was turned. As I ambled along, I heard a strange, rumbling sound – like someone playing a radio really loudly, but far enough away so that I couldn’t make out exactly what was being said. As I approached the corner, shouts like an angry wave rolled up towards me. But even that couldn’t prepare me for what was about to happen next. I turned the corner and . . .
And.
At the far end of the road, there was a huge crowd outside my school. And they were shouting and chanting. I froze for a moment, then started to walk towards them. Then I started to run. What on earth was going on? It didn’t take me long to find out.
‘NO BLANKERS IN OUR SCHOOL. NO BLANKERS IN OUR SCHOOL.’
The slogan was shouted out over and over again. Callum and three other noughts were surrounded by police officers who were trying to push their way through the crowd to get to the school entrance. More police stood in an arm-linked line trying to push the crowd of Crosses back into two orderly groups. I ran faster, but the closer I got, the less I could see. I pushed and elbowed my way through the crowd.
‘Callum! CALLUM!’
‘NO BLANKERS IN OUR SCHOOL . . .’
The police officers were still trying to push through the crowds of adults and Heathcroft pupils who in turn were determined not to let them pass.
‘BLANKERS OUT . . .’
I forced my way up the steps to the school entrance ahead of the crowd and the police, watching as the police battled to hold back the crowd, watching as Callum and the others looked neither to the right nor the left but straight ahead without even blinking.
‘NO BLANKERS IN OUR SCHOOL . . .’
I spotted Julianna and Adam and Ezra in the crowd, all of whom were my good friends. But worst of all I saw my own sister Minnie in the crowd. And she was shouting just as hard as all the others.
‘NO BLANKERS IN OUR SCHOOL . . .’
There was a roaring in my head which matched the roaring all around me. I was in the middle of chaos. Callum and the other noughts tried to make their way up the steps to the school entrance. The crowd surged forward at that, the palpable wave of their anger hitting me almost like a punch. Suddenly a cry went up. Callum’s head dipped down, followed by the heads of the police officers.
‘One of them is hurt!’
Callum . . . it wasn’t Callum, was it?
‘A blanker’s hurt.’
The news spread through the crowd like a virulent disease.
‘HOORAY!’ Spontaneous cheers filled the air. The police lines trying to hold the crowds back were knocked to the ground as the crowd rushed forward like air into a vacuum. I was on the very top step looking down at it all. And I’ve never felt such fist-clenching, teeth-gritting fury. A policewoman stepped to one side and I saw Callum squatting down by a nought girl who looked like she was in a bad way. Blood trickled from her forehead and her eyes were closed.
Mr Corsa, the headmaster, emerged from behind me. He stared at the crowd – the mob before him – looking shocked and ashen.
‘Mr Corsa, we have to help that girl,’ I pointed. ‘She’s hurt.’
Mr Corsa didn’t move, even when I repeated what I’d just said. I was caught up in a hurricane, with all the noise and madness whirling round me until my head was about to explode.
‘Stop it! Just stop it!’
Nothing.
‘STOP IT! YOU’RE ALL BEHAVING LIKE ANIMALS!’ I shouted so hard my throat immediately began to hurt. ‘WORSE THAN ANIMALS – LIKE BLANKERS!’
The sounds of the crowd slowly died away. ‘Just look at you,’ I continued. ‘Stop it.’ I glanced down at Callum. He was staring at me, the strangest expression on his face.
Callum, don’t look at me like that. I didn’t mean you. I’d never mean you. It was just for the others, to get them to stop, to get them to help. I didn’t mean you . . .
six. Callum
She didn’t say that. She couldn’t have. Not Sephy. I’m going to wake up in a moment. Wake up from this chaos, this nightmare. Wake up and laugh – or bawl – at the tricks my mind’s playing. She didn’t say that . . .
But she did . . .
I’m not a blanker. I may be a nought but I’m worth more than nothing. I’m not a blanker. A waste of time and space. A zero. I’m not a blanker. I’M NOT A BLANKER.
Sephy . . .
seven. Sephy
The waves lapped up onto the beach. It was a lovely autumn evening, a beautiful end to a lousy day. I couldn’t remember when I’d felt so miserable, so wretched. Callum was sitting right next to me but he might as well have been sitting on the moon.
‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’ At first I thought he wasn’t going to answer.
‘What would you like me to say?
’
‘I said I’m sorry,’ I tried again.
‘I know.’
I watched Callum’s profile – unreadable and implacable. And it was my fault. I understood that much, even if I didn’t quite understand what I’d done.
‘It’s just a word, Callum.’
‘Just a word . . .’ Callum repeated slowly.
‘Sticks and stones, Callum. It’s one word, that’s all,’ I pleaded.
‘Sephy, if you’d slapped me or punched me or even stabbed me, sooner or later it would’ve stopped hurting. Sooner or later. But I’ll never forget what you called me, Sephy. Never. Not if I live to be five hundred.’
I wiped my cheeks but the tears still came. ‘I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean you. I was . . . I was trying to help.’
Callum looked at me then and the expression on his face made my tears flow faster. ‘Sephy . . .’
‘Please. I’m so sorry.’ I dreaded to hear what he was going to say next.
‘Sephy, maybe we shouldn’t see so much of each other any more . . .’
‘Callum, no. I said I was sorry.’
‘And that makes everything all right, does it?’
‘No, it doesn’t. Not even close. But don’t do this. You’re my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
Callum turned away. I held my breath.
‘You must promise me something,’ he said softly.
‘Anything.’
‘You must promise me that you’ll never ever use that word again.’
Why couldn’t he understand that I hadn’t been talking about him? It was just a word. A word Dad had used. But it was a word that had hurt my best friend. A word that was now hurting me so very, very much. I hadn’t fully realized just how powerful words could be before this. Whoever came up with the saying ‘sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me’ was talking out of his or her armpit.
‘Promise me,’ Callum insisted.
‘I promise.’
We both turned to look out across the sea then. I knew I should go home. I was so late for dinner it was almost breakfast-time. Mother would go ballistic. But I wasn’t going to leave first. I didn’t want to get up. So I didn’t. I shivered, even though the evening wasn’t cold.
Callum took off his jacket and put it around my shoulders. It smelt of soap, and chips – and him. I hugged it tighter around me.
‘What about you?’ I asked.
‘What about me?’ he replied.
‘Aren’t you going to get cold?’
‘I’ll survive.’
I moved in closer and put my head on his shoulder. His body stiffened and for a moment I thought he was going to move away, but then he relaxed and though he didn’t hug me the way he usually did, he didn’t shrug me off either. One word . . . one word had caused all this trouble between us. If I lived to be five million, I would never, ever say that horrible word again. Ever. The sun was beginning to set now, burning the sky pink and orange. We sat and watched in silence.
‘I’ve been thinking it over and . . . well, we can still be together outside school but I don’t think you should talk to me when we’re in school,’ Callum said.
I was more than stunned. ‘Why on earth not?’
‘I don’t want you to lose any of your friends because of me. I know how much they mean to you.’
‘You’re my friend too.’
‘Not when we’re both at school I’m not,’ Callum told me.
‘But that’s just silly.’
‘Is it?’
My mouth opened and closed like a drowning fish, but what could I say? Callum stood up.
‘I have to go home now. You coming?’
I shook my head.
‘Your mum will hit the roof and then the nearest orbiting satellite!’
‘It’s Monday. She’s visiting friends,’ I told him.
‘What about your dad?’
‘You know he’s never home during the week. He’s at our town house.’
‘And Minerva?’
‘I don’t know. Probably with her boyfriend. Don’t worry about me, Callum. I’ll stay here for a little while longer.’
‘Not for too long, OK?’
‘OK.’ I handed back his jacket.
Almost reluctantly, he took it. Then he walked away. I watched, willing him to turn around, to turn back. But he didn’t. It was as if I was outside myself, watching the two of us. More and more I was beginning to feel like a spectator in my own life. I had to make a choice. I had to decide what kind of friend Callum was going to be to me. But what surprised – and upset me – was that I even had to think about it.
eight. Callum
‘D’you know what time it is?’ Mum ranted the moment I set foot through the door. She and I rarely had any other conversation.
‘Sorry,’ I mumbled.
‘Your dinner’s in the oven – dried out and not fit for eating by now.’
‘It’ll be fine, Mum.’
‘So where have you been until ten o’clock at night?’ Dad surprised me by asking. He didn’t usually nag me about coming home late. That was Mum’s department.
‘Well?’ he prompted when I didn’t answer.
What did he want me to say? ‘Well, I said goodbye to Sephy at the beach almost two hours ago, but then I hid in the shadows and followed her home to make sure she got back OK. Then it took me over an hour to walk home.’ Yeah, right! That little snippet of truth would go down like a lead balloon.
‘I was just out walking. I had a lot to think about.’ And that part at least was the truth.
‘Are you OK, son?’ Dad asked. ‘I went down to Heathcroft as soon as I heard what was going on, but the police wouldn’t let me in.’
‘Why not?’
‘I had no official business on the premises – unquote.’ Dad couldn’t mask the bitterness in his voice.
‘Those rotten, stinking . . .’
‘Jude, not at the dinner table please,’ Mum admonished.
Glancing at Jude, I saw he had enough anger in him for everyone else around. He was scowling at me like I was the one who’d had Dad kept off the school premises.
‘So how was school? How were your lessons, son?’ Dad asked quietly.
The honest answer or the acceptable one?
‘I was OK, Dad,’ I fibbed. ‘Once we got into school it was all right.’
Except that the teachers had totally ignored us, and the Crosses had used any excuse to bump into us and knock our books on the floor, and even the noughts serving in the food hall had made sure they served everyone else in the queue before us. ‘It was fine.’
‘You’re in there now, Callum. Don’t let any dagger swine drive you out – you understand?’
‘I understand.’
‘Excuse me.’ Mum rounded on Dad. ‘But when I say I don’t want swearing at the dinner table, that applies to everyone – including you.’
‘Sorry, love,’ Dad said ruefully, winking conspiratorially at us into the bargain.
‘You were on the telly,’ Jude told me. ‘So was your “friend”. The whole world heard what she said . . .’
‘She didn’t mean it like that.’ The words slipped out before I could stop them. Big mistake.
‘She didn’t mean it?’ Jude scoffed. ‘Have you lost your mind? How can you not mean to say something like that? She meant it all right.’
‘That family are all the same.’ Mum sniffed. ‘I see Miss Sephy is growing up to be just like her mother.’
I had to bite my lip at that. I knew better than to argue.
‘You’re better off out of that house,’ Dad told Mum vehemently.
‘You don’t have to tell me twice,’ Mum agreed at once. ‘I miss the money but I wouldn’t go back for all the stars in space. Anyone who can put up with that stuck-up cow Mrs Hadley is a better person than me.’
‘You were friends once . . .’ I reminded her, spooning some totally dried out mashed potato into my mouth.
‘Friends? We were never friends,’ Mum snorted. ‘She patronised me and I put up with it ’cause I needed a job – that’s all.’
That wasn’t how I remembered it. A few years ago and a lifetime away, Mum and Mrs Hadley had been really close. Mum was Minerva’s, then Sephy’s, nanny and a general mother’s helper from the time Minerva was born. In fact, I was closer to Sephy than I’d ever been to anyone, even my own sister Lynette who was my best friend in this house. I remembered when I was a toddler and Sephy was just a baby – I’d helped to bathe her and change her nappy. And when she got older, we played hide-and-seek and catch and tag in the Hadley grounds, whilst Mum and sometimes Mrs Hadley watched us and chatted and laughed. I still don’t know what happened to change all that. One week Mrs Hadley and Mum were like best friends and the next week, Mum and I were no longer welcome anywhere near the Hadley house. That was over three years ago now.
I still sometimes wondered how Mrs Hadley expected Sephy and I to go from being so close to not seeing each other at all? Sephy told her it was impossible. I told my mum the same thing. Neither of them listened. But it didn’t matter. Sephy and I still saw each other at least every other day and we’d never stop. We’d promised each other. The most sacred of promises – an oath sealed with our blood. We just couldn’t tell anyone about it, that’s all. We had our own world, our own secret place on the beach where no-one went and where no-one would ever find us – not if they didn’t know where to look. It was a small space, tiny really, but it was ours.
‘Shush, everyone. The news is on,’ Dad admonished.
I held my breath.
What happened at Heathcroft wasn’t the first item of news at least. The first item was about the Liberation Militia.
‘Today Kamal Hadley, Home Office Minister, declared that there would be no hiding place, no safe haven for those noughts misguided enough to join the Liberation Militia.’ The newscaster’s face disappeared to be replaced by that of Sephy’s dad outside the Houses of Parliament. His face seemed to fill the whole screen.
‘Isn’t it true, Mr Hadley, that your government’s decision to allow selected noughts in our schools was as a direct result of pressure from the Liberation Militia?’