“No,” I said hoarsely. I could barely see through my tears. I shut my eyes against the stares of my peers.
“Then why do you act like it?” she said cruelly. She grabbed my hair and pulled my head back. “You bring everything on yourself, Miss Hart. When will you learn your place?”
On the last word she yanked my head back even further and pulled a pair of scissors out of her jacket pocket. The rest of the class gasped. I stared at them – wide-eyed. For a horrible moment I thought she might stab me, but then she did something almost as awful. With a ghastly smile on her face Mrs Murgatroyd cut chunks out of my hair; big, uneven, ugly chunks. I watched in horror as the long strands fell to the floor.
30
“You need to learn, Miss Hart,” she said my name like it was a disease, “that you are not special.” More hair hit the ground. “You are nothing.” Strands hit the floor. “You are worthless.” Air licked at my bare neck. “You are ugly.”
I looked to Angela. She clasped a hand over her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes. Billie stared. The rest of the class seemed embarrassed for me and at the same time relieved. Relieved it was me in the chair and not them. My fingers tingled with building rage.
Mrs Murgatroyd stopped and stepped back to survey her work. She clapped her hands together triumphantly. “Much better. Now no one will ever love you.”
The tingling sensation grew in my fingers and a white hot flash seared through my mind. All around me chairs and tables began to shake. The scissors whipped out of Mrs Murgatroyd’s fingers, slamming into the wall – blade first. There they stuck, like a knife thrown by a professional. Mrs Murgatroyd gasped.
“People do love me,” I said tearfully. “It’s you that no one loves!”
The teacher stared at me, her face full of disgust. Around us textbooks fluttered from the shelves and I knew I had to get out of the classroom before I revealed myself further.
I had to get out before I killed us. Me and Dad. Just like the Resistance killed Mum. I looked down at the dead strands of hair on the floor, feeling like they were the limbs of my mother, lifeless and decaying.
“You brought this on yourself, Mina,” said Mrs Murgatroyd. “When will you learn to stop fighting it?”
I stood up and ran past her, pushing my way through the chairs and out of the door. I kept running until I was in the school yard. I had to stop for breath. Tears blurred my vision. Hair stuck to my eyelids. I ran again. I could not see. I ran into Elena Darcey.
We stared at each and I waited for the cruel laughter. But she didn’t laugh. Instead she grabbed my hand and pulled it. I resisted at first but then I heard a door swing open behind me. I imagined her coming to force me back inside and so without looking back I stepped forward and we ran.
*
I didn’t ask where we were going because I didn’t care. I didn’t think about Elena and why she would help me. I was too numb. The running helped to block out the image of Mrs Murgatroyd standing over me with the scissors. The class with their vacant stares. If I shut my eyes for just one second it all came flooding back.
“This way.” Elena tugged on my wrist as we turned to the right. “Down here.”
We had left town. We were in a part of Area 14 I didn’t recognise. The pavements were not bumpy like they were near my house. The roads were busy with cars. The houses were large and detached and the gardens full of Daffodils. I saw a Magnolia tree. The air was scented with sickly sweet flowers.
“Where are we?” I breathed.
“Near my house.”
We stopped in front of a mansion – at least that was how it looked to me. It was three stories high and ivy grew neatly around the windows. There was a plush garden in front of the house. On either side of a wide drive-way flourished colourful flowers in neat rows. A large fountain in the shape of an angel stood in the centre of the lawn. It was easily the most amazing house I had ever seen.
“Wow,” I said.
Elena shrugged. “Come on. My parents are at work so I have the place to myself for a bit.”
She walked past a bright red sports car and up to the door, beckoning for me to follow. I did, but slowly, still taking in my surroundings. I’d never seen a car so shiny or brickwork so clean or glass so neatly cut. Eventually I tore my eyes away and stepped into Elena’s doorway.
The interior lived up to the expectations set by the garden. A marble staircase snaked up to the landing. Black and white tiles lined the reception floor. Expensive looking oil-paintings hung from the walls. One caught my eye. There were three people inside the frame, one being Elena. Next to her was a gorgeous woman with chestnut hair and hazel eyes. Behind the two women stood a shrivelled old man with grey hair who looked to be in his seventies or eighties.
“Do you live with your granddad?” I asked.
Elena snorted. “Nope. That’s Daddy. He likes trophy wives.
I was shocked but tried not to let it show. “So, is that your mum?”
“Sort of. It’s not like I genetically match her or anything. But she and Clare look after me. Clare is my nanny. She’s Blemished just like you,” she said with a broad smile. “I don’t have any of my dad’s genes either. He was too scared I’d come out ugly as hell. Come on – let’s go up to my room.”
She stepped onto the staircase and I followed. Along the walls, set neatly in intervals, were pictures of Elena. In some she was a child, but most were recent. In all of them she posed deliberately for the camera. They looked professional.
“You have a lot of photos,” I commented.
“Yeah, they’re all from my modelling portfolio.”
“Do you want to be a model?”
“My mum wants me to be a model, so…” She shrugged. “It’s not so bad. I just stand and pout in front of a camera.”
We walked down a cream hallway to Elena’s room which turned out to be beautifully decorated but incredibly messy. There were so many things I felt dizzy just looking at them. She had enough possessions to fill up half of my home. I thought back to my plain room with its two pieces of furniture and one stuffed bear.
“Okay,” Elena said whilst moving an armful of clothes from a chair in front of a large regency style dressing table. “Sit in front of the mirror. I’ll see what I can do.”
“About what?” I asked.
“About your hair, you ninny.” She focussed her large blue eyes on my head. “I still can’t believe she did that to you. I know the old bat is crazy but I never expected her to completely lose it.”
Tentatively I sat down in the chair and looked at my hair for the first time. When I saw how hideous I looked I wanted to cry all over again. It was chopped harshly at sharp angles with some only inches away from my scalp. I was ugly.
“Don’t get emotional on me, Blem,” Elena said in a soft voice.
“Why are you helping me?” I said.
Elena shrugged. “I decided to miss psych because that bitch Clarissa dumped my homework in the mud. I was chilling out in that little garden patch you Blemished kids have been working on and I saw it all happen through the window. At first I was shocked by how nice your hair is. I mean, I didn’t know you Blems could shampoo and condition. But then I saw her hack it off like that.” She paused and stroked her own hair. “I couldn’t stand it if someone did that to me.”
I smiled in thanks and Elena examined me in the mirror. She took out a pair of scissors from the cabinet drawer. At first I was alarmed but after I saw how delicately she trimmed the ends of my hair I relaxed and let her get on with it.
“Are you really happy being a model?” I asked.
“It’s okay,” she said unenthusiastically. “There isn’t really much else I can do. I’m not so good with the school stuff.”
“But I always thought GEMs were clever. You get taught so many subjects at school,” I said. “I’d love to be taught half the stuff you are.”
“When Dad picked my genes I think he kind of missed out the intelligence ones.”
> “Why would he do that?”
Elena shrugged again and trimmed a piece of hair by my ears. “Dad’s kind of… old fashioned. He sees women as things to be looked at. Not people to debate with. He created me to be beautiful and model, maybe become famous one day and go to London, but not to study.”
“That’s––”
“––Sad? Yeah I know. But it could be worse. I mean, I’ve been watching you for the last few days and you have it tough,” she said.
“Yeah, but my dad always wants me to grow and learn, you know? I can’t imagine having a dad who doesn’t,” I replied. When I saw the look on Elena’s face I regretted my words. “I’m sorry. I’m sure your dad loves you very much and just wants the best for you.
She waved away my concern. “Don’t worry about it. So are you going to tell me or what?”
“What do you mean,” I said.”
“About you and Sebastian?”
31
“How did you know?” I asked, suddenly suspicious. “Did you say something to Mrs Murgatroyd?”
Elena’s face fell. “No, I wouldn’t do that. I might have been a bully but I’m definitely not a grass. I just saw the way he looks at you. It’s gross really, he proper moons after you like a big puppy dog.”
She mimicked a puppy with its tongue hanging out in the mirror. I laughed.
“There’s nothing really going on. He wanted more than I was prepared to give,” I said with a sigh.
“There’s someone else, isn’t there?” she said, still chopping little bits of hair. It was already looking better. I wasn’t sure if I would ever get used to having such short and spikey hair but I had to admit that it did suit my face.
“Why would you think that?”
“You’re one of those girls,” she said. “The kind that are moody and intriguing and everyone wants a piece of. I bet you’ve got at least two love-sick puppies lusting after you. Am I right?”
“You know, Elena, you are far smarter than you give yourself credit for,” I said with a laugh. “There is… someone else. At least I think so. I’m not sure if he likes me, or at least how much.” I sighed. “Not that it matters.”
“Why?” Elena asked. She stopped cutting my hair and rubbed some sort of gel into the ends, creating texture.
“Well, for one thing, Angela is in love with him––”
“Your dumpy little friend?” Elena said with a sneer. “As if he would choose her over you!”
“Hey, she’s not dumpy! And that’s not the point. I could never hurt her like that.”
“Huh.” Elena paused with the gel still in her fingers. “My friends wouldn’t even care about that. Maybe it is better being Blemished.”
“Well, that’s my other problem.” I let out a huge sigh, only then realising just how much a weight it was to carry around. “They will force me to have the Operation in a few months.”
Elena nodded. “Yeah, that really is crappy. You know, they make us take birth control all the time too. It’s ‘frowned upon’ for any of us to get pregnant.” She air quoted over the words “frowned upon.”
“What happens if you do get pregnant?”
“They inject you with stuff to make sure the baby is healthy. Then they take you away somewhere for you to do it in secret,” she said solemnly.
“Do they let you keep it?”
“They run some tests and if the genes of the baby are strong enough they do. I don’t know what happens if they aren’t though,” she said.
“How do you know all this?” I asked.
“It happened to a friend of mine,” she said. “Check out your new hair, Mina. Do you like it?” Elena smiled and her face lit up. She was truly beautiful.
The girl in the mirror looked back with short, trendy hair. She had an attitude about her, some spunkiness. She looked like a girl who couldn’t be messed with anymore. It took me a moment to realise that this fierce girl was me.
“I love it,” I said.
*
Elena and I stayed in her room all afternoon, trying on clothes and putting on make-up. She gave me a make-over and waxed my legs. She even put stuff on my skin that made me look tanned. My legs had never seen the sun and Elena said they were the whitest things she had ever seen. We danced to loud, shouty music and she showed me how to be sexy.
Shattered from all the dancing I collapsed onto the bed. I was wearing a short red skirt and a black top with a V-neck which revealed far more of my décolletage appropriate for a Blemished girl.
“Have you ever wondered why it’s the women who have the Operation, not the men?” I said, almost to myself.
“Sure,” Elena said. “They are punishing women.”
I sat up. “What for?”
“For being women. For having kids. They think that genetic problems are all our fault. They want to control everything and to do that they have to first and foremost control women,” she said with a characteristic shrug.
“The Operation sends people mad,” I said. “My friend’s mum is really bad. I think they do something to us – I mean apart from make us infertile. I think they do something to our brains, make us easier to keep in the ghettos.”
“I guess they need all the men for the manual work,” Elena added. “They can’t have crazy men operating heavy machinery.”
I giggled. “No, I guess not.” I paused. “I just don’t understand why no one fights back.”
“They do,” Elena said. “There is Resistance all over London.” Elena clamped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, I’ve said too much.”
I grabbed her urgently by the arm. “Tell me what you know.”
“My dad used to work in security. He ran a directorate of Enforcers in London, so he knows stuff. I listen in on his conversations with his old friends. Apparently the Resistance are fighting back in London. It’s a warzone.”
“I had no idea,” I breathed. “I thought the Resistance were in tatters.”
“That’s what they want people to think. They need to keep the Areas quiet so they can concentrate on fighting the Resistance in London. They’ve clamped down on all communication between London and the Areas.” She looked worried. “Don’t tell anyone about this. My dad would get in so much trouble, which means that we all would.”
“I won’t,” I promised.
I thought about the lack of security at the Slums: it was no wonder. The Slums were a distraction, something to make us believe that we had freedom, but it was all just a ruse. As soon as the Ministry took control of London they would re-enforce their control over the Areas. If the Resistance lost, things were going to get much worse.
There was a knock on the door and Elena’s head snapped up.
“Elena, are you in there?” The handle turned but the door was locked.
“That’s my mum,” Elena whispered. “You need to go. Can you climb?”
I nodded. At least my nights of sneaking out of the house had paid off. “What about your clothes?”
“Keep them,” she said with a warm smile. “They look better on you anyway.”
Quickly and silently Elena showed me a way down from her window using a drainpipe and the ivy and then threw my tunic onto the lawn. I figured she’d used the same route herself a number of times from the expert way she instructed me. I shimmied down. As I hit the ground I heard her talking to her mum. Even at a distance Elena’s mother sounded cold and unfriendly. I picked up my clothes and ran out of the garden.
Hidden by Elena’s hedge I pulled the tunic over my new clothes but I’d left my headscarf in school. I’d stayed at Elena’s so long that school would just be finishing. I decided to walk part of the way there and meet Angela, following the same route Elena used to bring me here. When I got to school I waited by the gates, dreading seeing Mrs Murgatroyd and secretly hoping she was drinking herself into a stupor in her office, hating herself for what she did to me.
“Mina!” Angela called. Within seconds she was hugging me tightly. “You’re okay. I was so w
orried. Oh! Your hair. Did you do that yourself? It looks so good! I’m so sorry I didn’t say anything. I was so scared.” She welled up again.
“It’s all right,” I said. “I’m okay, really. This is all Murder-Troll’s fault, not yours. And I like my new hair. Elena did it.”
“Elena? What? How?”
I laughed. “She saw me through the window and took me to her house. It’s like a mansion.”
“Wow, you’ve been to a GEM house?”
I told Angela about my trip to Elena’s house as we walked home, beginning to feel more human again. But it still didn’t take the experience away. I knew that when I closed my eyes I saw the embarrassed looks of my classmates as my hair fell to the floor. I would always have the image of her slug lips near my cheek telling me that I was Blemished and ugly and that I didn’t deserve to be loved. For that she had to pay and I knew this deep down in the marrow of my bones, as sure as I breathed. The time for acceptance was over.
32
“He’s not here,” I said, puzzled. Dad was always home before me. I checked the basement. It was empty.
“He’s left some information on the table,” Angela called from the kitchen.
She held up a sheet of paper. I snatched it from her and skimmed over my dad’s handwriting. It contained instructions for Theresa. According to the note she was being picked up by one of the carers and taken there by car. He’d paid for everything.
“It’s all very quick,” Angela said. “She goes tomorrow morning.”
There was a knock at the door and I left Angela’s side to open it. Daniel stood in the doorway.
“What happened to your hair?” he asked. His blue eyes widened in horror. “Are you wearing makeup?”
I’d forgotten about the rouge on my cheeks and the gloss on my lips. I hastily wiped at it with the back of my hand.
“Come in,” I said making room for Daniel to pass.
He stepped into the kitchen but seemed disinclined to settle, instead pacing the area like a lion in a cage. “What’s going on?”