‘Not at all,’ Sephy’s dad immediately denied. ‘This government does not allow itself to be blackmailed by an illegal terrorist group. We acted on a P.E.C. directive that this government had been on the verge of implementing anyway.’
My dad snorted at that.
‘Our decision to allow the crème-de-la-crème of nought youth to join our educational institutions makes sound social and economic sense. In a civilized society, equality of education for those noughts with sufficient aptitude . . .’
I tuned out at that. Sephy’s dad hadn’t changed since the last time I’d spoken to him which was yonks ago now. He never used one word where twenty patronizing ones would do. I didn’t like him much. Correction! Pompous twit! I didn’t like him at all. I didn’t like any of Sephy’s family. They were all the same. Minerva was a snob. Her mum was a bitch and her dad was a git. They all looked at us noughts through their nostrils.
‘The Liberation Militia are misguided terrorists and we will leave no stone unturned in our efforts to bring them to justice . . .’ Sephy’s dad was still at it. I was about to mentally switch off again, but then Jude did something that brought me out of my daydream.
‘Long live the Liberation Militia!’ My brother punched the air, his fingers locked in a fist so tight that I reckoned it would surely hurt to straighten them again.
‘Too right, son.’ Dad and Jude exchanged a knowing look, before they both turned back to the telly. I frowned at them, then turned to look at Mum. She immediately glanced away. I looked back at Jude and Dad. There was something going on. Something to do with the Liberation Militia and my brother and my dad. I didn’t mind that. What I did mind was that I was being excluded.
‘There have been unconfirmed reports that the car bomb found outside the International Trade Centre last month was the work of the Liberation Militia,’ the newscaster continued. ‘What attempts are being made to find those responsible?’
‘I can tell you that our highest priority is to find those responsible and bring them to swift and irrevocable justice. Political terrorism which results in the death or serious injury of even one Cross always has been and always will be a capital crime. Those found guilty will suffer the death sentence, no two ways about it . . .’
Blah! Blah! Blah! Sephy’s dad droned on for at least another minute, not letting the newscaster get a word in edgeways, sideways or any other ways. I tuned out again, waiting for him to finish, hoping he wouldn’t.
nine. Sephy
‘Sephy, your dad’s on the telly.’ Mother opened my bedroom door to tell me.
I mean, big deal! Mother still thought I was five, bouncing up and down with excitement at the sight of my daddy on the TV.
‘Sephy!’
‘Yes, Mother. I’m watching.’ I pressed my TV remote control to switch it on. Anything for a quiet life! I got the right channel first time. How lucky!
‘. . . is misguided to say the least.’ Dad didn’t look too pleased. ‘Minister Pelango is very young and doesn’t realize that the rate of change in our society needs to be slow and steady . . .’
‘Any slower and we’d be going backwards,’ Minister Pelango interjected.
Dad didn’t looked too pleased at that either, though it made me smile.
‘We call ourselves civilized, yet noughts have more rights in other P.E.C. countries than they do here,’ Pelango continued.
‘And in plenty of other countries they have a lot less,’ Dad snapped back.
‘And that makes the way we treat them right, does it?’
‘If our ruling party politics don’t gel with Mr Pelango’s beliefs, then maybe he should do the honourable thing and resign his seat on the government,’ Dad said silkily.
‘No chance!’ came the immediate reply. ‘Too many people in this government live in the past. It’s my duty to drag them into the present or none of us – noughts or Crosses – will have a decent future.’
Mum left my room. The click of my bedroom door closing was immediately followed by the press of another TV channel button. I didn’t care which one. Any other channel would do. I’d grown up with politics, politics, politics being rammed down my throat. I wasn’t interested in being caught up in it in any manner, shape or form. Why couldn’t Mother understand that?
ten. Callum
When at last Kamal Hadley had stopped dribbling on, Heathcroft School appeared on the telly. Of course, they didn’t bother showing the fact that the police officers who were meant to be guarding us were letting the crowd get to us to poke and pinch and punch. Somehow the camera was never in the right place to show that the whole back of my jacket was awash with Cross spit. Surprise! Surprise! There wasn’t even a hint of any of that.
‘The noughts admitted to Heathcroft High School met with some hostility today . . .’ the news reporter began.
Some hostility? This reporter’s middle name was obviously ‘Euphy’, short for Euphemism!
‘Police officers were drafted in to keep the peace as it was feared that nought extremists might try to take advantage of the volatile situation . . .’ the newscaster continued.
Jude started muttering under his breath and to be honest, I didn’t blame him. Even I was disgusted at that and I had a much longer fuse than my brother. Lynette took hold of my hand. She smiled at me and I could feel the anger seeping out of my body. Only Lynette and Sephy could do that – make all the rage that sometimes threatened to blow up inside me just fade to nothing. But sometimes . . . sometimes I got so angry that I scared even myself.
The image on the screen cut from Shania falling over to Sephy shouting at the crowd. The TV camera zoomed in for a close-up. The newscaster announced as a voiceover, ‘Persephone Hadley, daughter of Kamal Hadley, had a hand in stopping the fracas . . .’
‘I’m going up to my room. I’ve got homework.’ I leapt to my feet.
I was too late. Those words spilt out of the telly before I could leave. I knew what to expect, what she was going to say, and it still made me wince. I left the room before anyone could say a word to me, but I knew my entire family was watching me leave. Closing the door quietly behind me, I leaned against it and took a deep breath.
Sephy . . .
‘They are all the same,’ I heard Jude scoff. ‘Crosses and noughts will never live in peace, let alone be friends and Callum’s just fooling himself if he thinks that Cross girl cares one clipped toenail about him. When push comes to shove she’ll dump him so fast his body will turn pear-shaped!’
‘You and I may know that, but he doesn’t,’ Dad surprised me by saying.
‘Well, the sooner he learns it, the better,’ Mum sighed.
‘And are you going to be the one that tells him?’ Dad asked. ‘’Cause I’m not.’
‘There’s not one of those Crosses that can be trusted,’ Jude declared.
No-one disagreed.
‘Someone should tell Callum the truth. Otherwise he’s going to get hurt,’ Jude continued.
‘Are you volunteering?’ asked Dad.
‘I will, if I have to,’ replied Jude.
‘No! No, I’ll do it,’ Mum said. ‘I’ll do it.’
‘When?’
‘When I get round to it. Now back off, both of you,’ Mum snapped.
I couldn’t listen to any more. I went upstairs, my shoulders slumped, my head hanging down. For the first time ever, I wondered if maybe my family was right and I was wrong.
eleven. Sephy
It was time for History. I hate History. It’s a total waste of time. There was only one good thing about it. Callum was down to take History as well. My friend Claire tried to sit next to me.
‘Er . . . Claire, could you sit somewhere else today. I’m saving this seat for someone.’
‘Who?’
‘Someone.’
Claire gave me a scathing look. ‘Be like that then.’ And she flounced off without a backwards glance. I sighed and watched the door eagerly. Callum and the other noughts were the last ones to come in. Others barg
ed past them and Callum let them get away with it. I wouldn’t have.
I smiled at Callum and indicated the seat next to me. Callum looked at me, then looked away and sat next to another nought. Others in the class looked from me to him and back again. My face burned with humiliation. How could he show me up like that? How could he? I know what he’d said the previous evening, but I wanted to show him I didn’t care who knew we were friends. It didn’t bother me one little bit. So why would Callum turn his back on me like that?
Mr Jason entered the room and launched into the lesson before he’d even shut the door. And within the space of two minutes it was clear he was in a foul mood – even worse than usual. Nobody could do anything right, especially the noughts.
‘Who can tell me one of the significant events of the year 146 BC?’ Mr Jason asked tersely.
146 BC! I mean, who cared?!! I decided to wind down and sleep with my eyes open until the lesson was over. Callum bent down to get something out of his bag. From my position I couldn’t see what. CRACK! Mr Jason smacked a big heavy History textbook down on Callum’s desk.
‘What’s the matter, boy?’ Mr Jason asked. ‘Too poor to even pay attention?’
Callum didn’t answer. Some in the class tittered. A few didn’t. Mr Jason was being a real pig and when he walked past me, I glared at him to let him know exactly what I thought about the way he was carrying on. That put his back up as well. I got told off twice in less than thirty minutes. But I didn’t care. Mr Jason wasn’t important. I had other things on my mind – like how to prove to Callum that I really didn’t care if people knew he was my friend. In fact, I was proud of it. But how to do it…? And then it came to me! Eureka! The perfect solution. If only this lesson would hurry up and finish. All I could think about was lunch-time. I was desperate to be one of the first to get to the food hall. When at last the buzzer sounded, I was the first out of my chair. Trying to be the first out of the room, I barged past my teacher.
‘Er, d’you mind?’
‘Sorry, sir.’ I tried to carry on moving past him. Big mistake!
‘As you’re in such a tearing hurry you can wait until last to leave the classroom.’
‘But, sir…’
Mr Jason raised a warning hand. ‘Any arguments and you’ll be lucky to get lunch at all.’
I shut up. Mr Jason was a real, ill-tempered, ill-mannered slug. And he had to toil hard to work his way up to that. So I waited whilst everyone else grinned smugly at me as they strolled past. I was late getting to the food hall when today of all days I wanted to be one of the first. Callum and the other noughts already had their food and were sitting down by the time I walked through the food-hall doors. All the noughts were sitting at a table by themselves, just like yesterday.
I lined up in the food queue. I wasn’t going to do anything out of the ordinary, so why was my heart bumping in such a strange way? I collected my chicken and mushroom pie with the usual over-boiled trimmings, my jam tart with over-sweet custard and my carton of milk and, taking a deep breath, I headed for Callum’s table. Callum and the other noughts glanced up as I approached their table, only to look away again almost immediately.
‘D’you mind if I join you?’
They all looked so shocked, it wasn’t even funny. The other noughts continued to look stunned, but Callum’s expression turned. I sat down before he could say no and before I could bottle out.
‘What d’you think you’re doing?’ he snapped.
‘Eating my lunch,’ I replied before cutting into my pie. I tried to smile at the other three noughts but they instantly returned to eating their food.
‘Hi. I’m Sephy Hadley.’ I thrust my hand under the nose of the nought girl I was sitting next to. She had a dark brown plaster on her forehead which stuck out on her pale white skin like a throbbing thumb. ‘Welcome to Heathcroft.’
She looked at my hand like it was about to bite her. Wiping her own hand on her tunic, she then took mine and shook it slowly.
‘I’m Shania,’ she said softly.
‘That’s a pretty name. What does it mean?’ I asked.
Shania shrugged. ‘It doesn’t mean anything.’
‘My mother told me my name means “serene night”,’ I laughed. ‘But Callum will tell you I’m anything but serene!’
Shania smiled at me. It was tentative and brief but at least it was genuine – whilst it lasted.
‘How’s your head?’ I asked, pointing at the plaster.
‘It’s OK. It’ll take more than a stone step to dent my head.’
I smiled. ‘That plaster’s a bit noticeable.’
‘They don’t sell pink plasters. Only dark brown ones.’ Shania shrugged.
My eyes widened at that. I’d never really thought about it before, but she was right. I’d never seen any pink plasters. Plasters were the colour of us Crosses, not the noughts.
‘Sephy, just what d’you think you’re doing?’ Mrs Bawden, the deputy headmistress, appeared from nowhere to scowl down at me.
‘Pardon?’
‘What’re you doing?’
‘I’m eating my lunch.’ I frowned.
‘Don’t be facetious.’
‘I’m not. I’m eating my lunch.’
‘Get back to your own table – at once.’ Mrs Bawden looked like she was about to erupt kittens.
I looked around. I was now the centre of attention – the very last thing I’d wanted.
‘B-but I’m sitting h-here,’ I stammered.
‘Get back to your own table – NOW!’
What table? I didn’t have my own table. And then it dawned on me exactly what Mrs Bawden meant. She wasn’t talking about me getting back to my own table. She was talking about me getting back to my own kind. I glanced around. Callum and the others weren’t looking at me. Everyone else was. They weren’t.
‘I’m sitting with my friend, Callum,’ I whispered. I could hardly hear my own voice so I have no idea how Mrs Bawden heard me – but she did. She grabbed my arm and pulled me out of my chair. I was still holding on to my tray, and everything on it went flying.
‘Persephone Hadley, you will come with me.’ Mrs Bawden yanked me away from the table and dragged me across the food hall. I tried to twist away from her, but she had a grip like a python on steroids. I turned my head this way and that. Wasn’t anyone going to do anything? Not from the look at it. I twisted sharply to look at Callum. He was watching but the moment I caught his eye, he looked away. I stopped struggling after that. I straightened up and followed Mrs Bawden to the headmaster’s office.
Callum had turned away from me. I didn’t care about the rest, but I cared about that. He’d turned away . . . Well, I was slow getting the message, but I’d finally got it. God knows, I’d finally got it.
twelve. Callum
I had to get out of there. I left my lunch half-eaten and walked out of the food hall without saying a word to any of the others.
I had to get out of there.
I walked out of the food hall and out of the building and out of the school, my steps growing ever faster and more frantic – until by the time I was out of the school gates, I was running. Running until my back ached and my feet hurt and my heart was ready to burst and still I kept running. I ran all the way out of the town and down to the beach. I collapsed onto the cool sand, my body bathed in sweat. I lay on my stomach and punched the sand. And again, and again. Until I was pounding it with both fists. Until my knuckles were red raw and bleeding.
And I wished more than anything else in the world that the sand beneath my fists was Sephy’s face.
thirteen. Sephy
I spotted our Mercedes in its usual place, just outside the main school building. As I approached it, a strange man got out and opened one of the back doors for me. He had mousy-brown hair which lay flat and lank against his head, and ice-light, ghost-like blue eyes.
‘Who are you?’
‘Karl, your new driver.’
‘Where’s Harry?’ I asked, climbing
into the car.
‘He decided to move on.’
‘Without telling me?’
Karl shrugged and slammed the door shut. I watched him sit behind the wheel and start the car, a frown digging deep into my face.
‘Where did he move on to?’
‘I don’t know, Miss.’
‘Why did he want to leave?’
‘I don’t know that either.’
‘Where does Harry live?’
‘Why, Miss Sephy?’
‘I’d like to send him a Good Luck card.’
‘If you give it to me, Miss, I’ll make sure he gets it.’
Karl’s eyes and mine met in the internal driver’s mirror. ‘OK,’ I said at last. What else could I say?
Harry wouldn’t go away and leave me, not without saying goodbye first. I knew he wouldn’t – just as surely as I knew my own name. Something horrible then occurred to me.
‘You . . . you r-really are my new driver, aren’t you?’
‘Of course, Miss Sephy. Your mother employed me this morning. I can show you my ID card if you’d like.’ Karl’s smile flitted fleetingly across his face.
‘No, that’s OK,’ I said. I sat back in my seat and clipped up my seat-belt.
We drove off. I saw some others, pointing to me and whispering or laughing or both as our car went past. My sitting at the noughts table had spread around the school like a bad dose of the flu. And I knew I hadn’t heard the end of it. Mr Corsa threatened that he was going to send a letter home to my mum and e-mail my dad. No doubt a protest to the Queen was in the offing too. And I wouldn’t have minded any of that if Callum hadn’t turned his back on me. But he had. And I was never going to forget it. He had looked away from me like . . . like he didn’t know me. Like I was nothing. Maybe Mother was right, after all. Maybe Crosses and noughts could never be friends. Maybe there was too much difference between us.