Award-winning books from Sophie McKenzie
GIRL, MISSING
Winner Richard and Judy Best Kids’ Books 2007, 12+
Winner of the Red House Children’s Book Award 2007, 12+
Winner of the Manchester Children’s Book Award 2008
Winner of the Bolton Children’s Book Award 2007
Winner of the Grampian Children’s Book Award 2008
Winner of the John Lewis Solihull Book Award 2008
Winner of the Lewisham Children’s Book Award 2008–9
Winner of the 2008 Sakura Medal
BLOOD TIES
Overall winner of the Red House Children’s
Book Award 2009
Winner of the North East Teenage Book Award 2010
Winner of the Leeds Book Award 2009, age 11–14 category
Winner of the Spellbinding Award 2009
Winner of the Lancashire Children’s Book Award 2009
Winner of the Portsmouth Book Award 2009
(Longer Novel section)
Winner of the Staffordshire Children’s Book Award 2009
Winner of the Southern Schools Book Award 2010
Winner of the RED Book Award 2010
Winner of the Warwickshire Book Award 2010
Winner of the Grampian Children’s Book Award
SIX STEPS TO A GIRL
Winner of the Manchester Children’s Book Award 2009
THE SET-UP
Winner of the North East Book Award (yrs 7 + 8)
Winner of the Portsmouth Book Award 2010 (Longer Novel section)
With thanks to Lou and Lily Kuenzler
First published in Great Britain in 2010 by
Simon and Schuster UK Ltd
A CBS COMPANY
Copyright © 2010 Sophie McKenzie
This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.
No reproduction without permission.
All rights reserved.
The right of Sophie McKenzie to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988.
Simon & Schuster UK Ltd
1st Floor
222 Gray’s Inn Road
London WC1X 8HB
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 978-1-84738-763-9
eBook ISBN: 978-1-84738-764-6
Typeset by M Rules
Printed in the UK by CPI Cox & Wyman, Reading, Berkshire RG1 8EX
www.simonandschuster.co.uk
www.sophiemckenziebooks.com
For Ruth, Mark, Max, Freddie and Louisa Goodman
Nine months ago, Theo and Rachel discovered they were the world’s first human clones. Captured by Elijah Lazio, the genius geneticist who cloned them, Theo learned not only that he was a clone of Elijah himself, but that the evil geneticist was planning to murder him to steal his heart, a perfect genetic match for his own failing organ.
Theo and Rachel managed to escape from Elijah, but were later separated and sent to new locations with their families. They are now in hiding from both Elijah and the Righteous Army against Genetic Engineering (RAGE) – an extremist group prepared to go to any lengths to destroy all the evidence of Elijah’s cloning experiments, including the clones themselves . . .
Part One
The Hermes Project
1
Rachel
It was a Saturday afternoon in early July and I was looking forward to the highlight of my week – the hour or so when Theo and I met online and everything else dropped away.
I’d just been to a martial arts display at the old scout hall past the docks. Not the sort of thing that happens often in Roslinnon – or the sort of thing I go to on an average Saturday – but I’d really enjoyed the moves in the show, recognising quite a few of the basic techniques from the self-defence lessons I’d been having.
Most of the audience was male and much older than me. I’d caught a couple of guys staring at me during the interval and, what with that and the way the hall stank like the boys’ changing room at school, it was a relief to be heading outside.
As I left the scout hall, I saw the two men who’d been staring at me earlier standing on the pavement. They were watching everybody leave. For a second I wondered if they were looking for me . . . waiting for me. Then I shook myself – told myself not to be paranoid.
It was drizzling with rain, so I pulled my hood up and headed for the internet café on the high street where I was going to message Theo. Rather than walk past the two men, I decided to take a slightly longer way round – nothing major, just a couple of extra streets, but it would bring me out at the top of the high street: a busy road where I knew I’d feel safe.
As I started walking, the rain got heavier. I sighed.
When the British government and the FBI had picked the port town of Roslinnon in Scotland as the location for my new life, they obviously hadn’t known it was officially the rainiest place in the British Isles – not to mention a rubbish place to be young. Or at least I hoped they hadn’t. Sometimes it felt like I was being punished for who I was.
Who I am. A clone of my dead sister.
Theo’s a clone too. That’s why we’d been hidden away and given new identities. Because there were people determined to find us – and kill us.
I checked the time. Four forty-five p.m. I had quarter of an hour before I was due online and, even going the long way round, it was only going to take a few minutes to reach the internet café. I decided to shelter from the rain.
Huddled in a doorway, I felt for the silver chain round my neck. The chain’s special . . . my way of feeling closer to Theo. I thought about what I was going to tell him this week. It was nine months since we’d seen each other, and yet our online conversations were more real to me now than my everyday life. Nobody knew that I was still in touch with Theo – I hadn’t told a single person: not the agent who was our contact under the government protection programme; not Mum and Dad; not even the counsellor I’d been given to help me ‘adjust’ to my new life.
The government officials all thought we’d be safer if we didn’t make contact with each other. There’s this organisation called RAGE – the Righteous Army against Genetic Engineering. They don’t think genetic copies of human beings – clones – should be allowed to exist. They think they’re immoral. We’re immoral. Then there’s Elijah – the man who cloned us. He reckons he ‘owns’ us – that he’s entitled to do what he likes with us.
The threat was real, so Theo and I didn’t take unnecessary risks when we talked. I mean, I didn’t even know exactly where Theo lived and I never asked
Across the street I caught sight of a girl from school and waved. Mhairi’s sort of a friend, though we’re not really close. I’m not that close to anyone at Roslinnon Academy, to be honest. It’s better that way . . . you never know who you can trust.
Mhairi waved back at me, then pointed to the pale, anxious, plump woman beside her and made a face.
I nodded to show I understood. Mhairi’s mum was a total nightmare . . . nearly as bad as mine. Still, at least Mhairi didn’t have to put up with her mum berating her for not wanting to learn golf, or going on and on about how common everyone in Roslinnon was.
Emerging from my shelter, I walked on. I didn’t know this area of town that well but from what people said it was kind of rough. The rain was pounding down now – and this was July. It was supposed to be summer! I tugged my hood further round my face and
bent my head. The pavement was a dirty grey – shining in the rain.
I trudged into an alley, trying to avoid the puddles. Suddenly a large pair of Timberland boots appeared in front of me. I looked up. One of the men who’d been staring at me during the martial arts show – early twenties, with close-cropped red hair and a smashed-in nose – was blocking my way out of the alley.
‘Hello, hen,’ he said, a nasty smile creeping around his mouth.
‘Hi.’ I tried to step past him, but he put out his arm. My throat tightened.
‘I saw you at the martial arts display just now,’ he said. ‘I was impressed. There’s not many pretty girls go places like that, eh?’
Heart beating fast, I turned away.
The other man from the show, the one with dark, shaggy hair, was right behind me.
I was trapped in the alley.
‘Hey, McRae,’ the dark-haired guy sniggered. ‘Shall we see if this wee girl is up for some action?’
‘Get lost,’ I said, but I could feel myself beginning to shake.
Both men moved closer. I clenched my fists and pressed my feet into the ground, breathing deep into my guts to calm myself, like Lewis had taught me when we were preparing to rescue Theo last year.
‘Come on now, hen,’ the dark-haired guy cooed in a silly voice. ‘We just want you to show us what you’ve got.’
The first man – McRae – laughed. ‘Aye.’ He reached out for my arm, pulling me round to face him.
Something snapped inside me.
‘Piss off.’ I stared at McRae – right into his mean little eyes – then strode past him.
He grabbed me. Pulled me back.
I fisted my hand and punched, putting my whole weight behind the throw. The blow landed on McRae’s shoulder, sending him reeling, doubled over with pain and shock.
I glared at the other man. His mouth fell open. I turned and sped away, out of the alley. I raced on, going over the route to the high street in my head. Left. Left. Then a long stretch before the right turn onto the high street. I’d come out further up from the internet café than I’d been planning – but who cared.
The sound of pounding feet echoed behind me. I glanced over my shoulder.
Damn. The two men were hot on my tail – vicious looks on their faces.
I ran faster. Took my two left turns. I was holding them off – but not getting away.
Almost at the high street now, I pushed myself on. The men were so close behind me I could hear them breathing as they ran. For a sick second I wondered if they were RAGE operatives, sent after me on purpose.
I darted down one final short road, then onto the high street. I raced into the first shop I came to – a charity clothes place. I ducked behind a large rail of overcoats. They smelled of dead men’s sweat.
I glanced over the top of the rail. The two men had stopped outside the shop but they weren’t looking inside. They were laughing, like hassling me had been the best game ever.
Pigs.
As I watched, they sauntered off, swaggering down the street like they owned it. I shook my head. Well, at least they were just stupid men, not people from RAGE.
It was a few minutes to five now . . . nearly time to speak to Theo. The internet café was just up the road. I moved away from the rail of overcoats, tugged my hood off my face and headed towards the door. Outside, a boy in a wheelchair propelled himself past the window.
I froze.
The boy was olive-skinned with short, dark hair and a square jaw. He looked older than I remembered him, but otherwise it was the same face I’d been remembering and seeing in my dreams for the last nine months.
No way.
It couldn’t be him.
What was he doing here? What was he doing in a wheelchair?
I stared as the boy wheeled himself along the street. I knew that profile as well as I knew my own.
It was Theo.
2
Theo
Hot and humid, Philadelphia had been in the grip of a heatwave for nearly a fortnight now and I was more fed up than I could remember. School had ended for the summer and I hadn’t got good grades and Mum was annoyed at me.
She was worried too, I guess. She had made loads of friends, mostly through her new job. Why hadn’t I?
Of course she wouldn’t listen when I told her I didn’t care. That I still hung out with the basketball mates I’d met in the first term – before I stopped playing basketball – and that that was enough.
I was fed up with much more than Mum, though. Some days, like today, my whole existence got on top of me. I hated the lie I was living. Pretending to be someone I wasn’t in order to stay safe from Elijah and RAGE.
More than anything, I missed Rachel.
I was on my way to contact her now. I hated the fact that I had to find a random computer instead of being able to use my own PC at home, but it would have been too risky. I was certain the FBI, who’d rehoused Mum and me here, were monitoring all our phone calls and home computer use.
That annoyed me too.
This side of the street was in direct sunlight. Sweat trickled down the back of my neck.
Grumbling to myself, I went on.
At least I’d get to speak to Rachel soon.
That was something.
Actually, it was everything.
3
Rachel
I stood, too shocked to move for a few seconds, watching the boy in the wheelchair roll slowly along the pavement.
Now that I could only see the back of his head I immediately doubted it was Theo. I must have been wrong. I mean, for a start, what would Theo be doing here? We’d agreed it would be safer if we didn’t reveal online exactly where we lived, but it’s hard to write about your life without giving some information away. From various references he’d made, I’d guessed a while back that Theo was somewhere on the east coast of America.
I must have given away certain details myself. But I was sure I’d never told him I lived in Roslinnon.
And how could Theo possibly be in a wheelchair? It didn’t make sense. I racked my brains, trying to remember if he’d dropped any kind of hint at all that he’d had some kind of accident.
I was probably mistaken, but I had to be sure. I darted out of the charity shop.
And ran – wham – straight into Mhairi’s mum.
‘Och, hello, hen,’ she said, staggering backwards.
‘Sorry.’ I blinked, looking past her to where the boy in the wheelchair who couldn’t be Theo was turning the corner into Rosmore Row – the busiest shopping street in Roslinnon.
Panic clutched at my throat. I had to catch up with him. Had to make sure.
‘As you’re here, Rachel, hen,’ Mhairi’s mum went on, ‘maybe you’ll help me talk some sense into my daughter now. I’ve left her trying on a pair of trousers at least two sizes too small for her. Will you come and—’
‘I can’t.’ I stared at her pale, pasty face, barely able to focus. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t.’ And I tore past her, darting across the road between honking cars, hardly registering the rain on my face.
I raced down the High Street and onto Rosmore Row.
It was heaving. I ran as hard as I could, dodging pedestrians laden with heavy shopping bags, glancing around me for any sign of the boy and his wheelchair.
There. He was up ahead, trundling slowly past the benches where most of my year hung out after school. No one there I recognised today, thank goodness.
He reached the end of Rosmore Row and turned into a much quieter side road. I ran on, only slowing when I’d reached the side road too and was just behind him.
I stared at the back of his head, remembering the moment when Theo had stepped in front of me, protecting me from Elijah.
And then I ran forward, jogging past him and stopping a few metres up at a lamppost.
The rain was still drizzling down my neck as I turned round, my heart thumping.
Oh God, it was him. And yet he looked different. With shorter ha
ir and a hangdog expression, he looked like he’d aged about three years in the past nine months.
He caught me staring and looked up. He frowned, but there was no trace of recognition in his eyes.
For a second all my old insecurities flooded back. Had I changed too? My hair was a bit longer, maybe, but I didn’t think I looked particularly different in any other way. Now I wished I’d checked my appearance before I’d left the martial arts show. Maybe my make-up had run in the rain, not that I was wearing much.
None of this made sense.
And then the boy smiled and mouthed the word ‘hello’. I walked over, the bustle of Rosmore Row around us fading completely into the background.
The boy held my gaze. I was right next to him now.
‘Theo?’ I said, my voice trembling.
The boy frowned, looking confused. He shook his head. ‘My name’s Milo,’ he said.
An American accent – and the tone of his voice was different from Theo’s too. It was harsher, yet at the same time weaker.
‘Er . . . do we know each other?’ he said.
I stared at him. Close up I could see signs of stubble on his chin and a fullness to his face that Theo didn’t – couldn’t – have.
It wasn’t Theo. Just someone who looked extraordinarily like him. The disappointment was crushing.
‘I thought we knew each other,’ I said, trying to keep my voice steady. ‘I’m sorry.’
I took a step back.
‘Wait.’ Milo looked up at me. ‘You just called me Theo, didn’t you?’
‘Er, yes, Theo’s a friend of mine.’ I blushed. ‘You look a lot like him. An awful lot.’
A shocked smile crept over Milo’s face. ‘That wouldn’t be the Theo who was kidnapped and taken to Washington D.C. last year?’
I could feel my eyes widening. How on earth did he know about that? I nodded, speechless.
There was a long pause.
‘Well I guess I do look like him,’ Milo said at last, ‘seeing as we were cloned from the same person.’