Lifted (17 page)

Shaking, she typed in her blog’s URL address and pressed return.

This page does not exist.

This couldn’t be happening. Where was her blog? She was in a blind panic now. Had the police taken it down, or the internet company, or the Government, maybe? What if she did a Google search? There it was, first in the results … but why wouldn’t it load? All the other fake Robyn Hood sites were still there, all the articles linking to her blog, but where was her blog?

And then she understood. It was Noah. It must have been Noah. Only he could have taken down the blog. Only he had a reason to.

‘I’ve got to go!’ she announced, jumping up from the table and rushing into the hall. ‘Back in a minute …’

‘Where do you think you’re going, young lady?’ she heard her Mum shout, as she opened the front door. ‘Stop!’

She was out in the street before she thought to look at her watch. Three o’clock. It was a school day, would
Noah even be home yet? Maybe, if he had a free last period. She looked up at his window, but there was no sign of him. Her parents would be coming after her, any moment. She had to think. She ran down to the corner of the street, so she was out of sight. How long did she have before they came out looking for her? Thank God her mobile was in her pocket.

Whr r u?
she texted.
I nd 2 spk 2 u now!

Two long minutes passed. Then:
On my way hm frm schl. 1 min. u ok?

She knew exactly which way he would be walking, so she started towards him, hoping to head him off before he turned into their cul-de-sac. It can’t have been more than a few seconds before she saw him coming towards her. He was walking fast, frantically swinging his arms to keep up speed.

She ran up to him, so angry that she wanted to hit him. ‘How could you? How could you?’

Even though she didn’t say, he knew what she meant. He’d been waiting for this. ‘I’m so sorry, but I took it down to protect you. I thought you were going to do something stupid.’

‘You’re too late,’ she said, tearfully. ‘I already did. And you’ve made it worse.’

She told him about Kelly’s. ‘Now my parents think I’m a freak, as well as a thief and a liar.’

‘Oh Rubes,’ he said. He tried to put his arm around her, but she backed away. ‘I’m sorry. I was trying to help
because I care, honest I was.’

‘But it’s my blog, my words, my life! You had no right to take it down like that.’

‘I know, I’m sorry. I’ll put it back up for you, I promise.’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘Because as soon as you do, I’m going to confess everything. First I can tell my parents – and you can back me up. And then in the blog. After that, people will have to believe me.’

Noah sighed. ‘You’re making a mistake …’

‘And another thing,’ said Ruby. ‘You know those earrings I asked you to take for me? I really appreciated you doing that, but I need them back now. To show my dad.’

Noah hesitated. ‘The thing is, I don’t have them,’ he said. ‘Sorry, Rubes, but I got rid of them. I didn’t want anyone else to find them.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding! Where are they?’

‘I threw them out. They’ll be on a landfill site somewhere now. Gone forever. Sorry.’

‘Noooooo! They’re my only proof.’

‘You don’t need proof, Ruby. Listen, I’ve been thinking about this and I’ve got an idea. You could come forward about the blog, reveal yourself, but say it was all made up, like a story. That way you’ll get all the credit for writing the blog without getting into trouble with anyone. I’ve got all the computer evidence, the whole history, so they’ll know it was
really you who started the blog.’

‘So I’ll be a stupid liar, a fantasist, instead of a thief? My parents already think I’m losing it. And I’ve been caught shoplifting twice now. The people at Zenda and Kelly’s will recognise me and they’ll say they know I really did it.’

‘I doubt it, they must catch hundreds of shoplifters every week. And if they do, you can say it was just for research or to get noticed. We can think of something. I’ll help you. We can work it out together.’

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I need time to think about it.’

‘OK,’ said Noah. ‘But do you forgive me now?’

‘Maybe,’ she said, giving him a little smile.

He moved to hug her again, and this time she let him. She buried her face in his chest and breathed him in, the smell and the feel of him. She sensed how small her body was against his, his long arms firmly wrapped around her waist, and it made her feel safe, protected, as if everything was going to work out. Then she gazed up at him and he gave her
that
slightly squinty look from beneath
those
eyelashes, the look that turned her insides to jelly. The hug turned into a kiss, a long, slow comforting kiss that she didn’t want to end.

‘I’d better go home and face the music,’ she said eventually, pulling herself away. She could still feel the sensation of his lips on hers. It would be so easy to fall back into that kiss. ‘I promise I’ll call you later.’

‘Do,’ said Noah. ‘Remember, I’ll help you any way I can. We can work it out together.’

She nodded. ‘Thanks.’

Later that night, after her parents had screamed and shouted until they had no voices left, her dad had gone home and her mum had sent her to her room like a kid, Ruby lay fully clothed on her bed and thought about what to do. Noah’s idea was attractive, because it meant she could still take the credit for her blog without owning up to being a compulsive thief, but something about it didn’t feel right. The blog was hers, the vehicle for her personal thoughts and feelings (at least, until the point she’d felt she had to lie to keep her readers happy). If she claimed it had all been a fantasy, then she’d be denying who she really was. She’d spent too long doing that already, trying to fit in with her friends, trying to be the person her parents wanted her to be. Just for once, she had to be true to herself.

She didn’t feel like talking, and this seemed a little too important for a quick text, so she opened up a new email.
Sorry Noah,
she wrote.
Thank you for trying to help. But I’m going to do it my way. xx

The following morning, Ruby awoke at seven to the thumping bass of a song she pretended to like but secretly hated. Her eyes still welded shut, she leaned across the bed and pressed the snooze button, sending herself into a fitful doze. When she woke up again, at seven-fifteen, it was to the drone of the weather report. She punched the radio off, feeling drowsy and bad-tempered. She’d hardly had any rest. It had taken her several hours to drop off and then she’d slept badly, her dreams fragmented and dark. She had woken several times in the night with a sensation of dread that made her heart pound wildly. Once, she felt so alone and so afraid that she had thought of texting Noah for comfort, but it had been five a.m., and he’d only have tried to talk her out of her plans.

She kicked off her duvet and swung her feet on to the
matted fibres of the rug below. From downstairs she could hear the whirr of the toaster and the whine of muffled voices on breakfast television. Mum was going to work early for a meeting; she’d told Ruby the night before, even though they weren’t really speaking. She’d stood in the hall just outside Ruby’s bedroom and shouted this information to her through the locked door. Ruby hadn’t responded because she was too upset and angry to speak and her voice had been caught in her throat.

Her mother was shouting to her again now. ‘I’m going to work, love. I’ve left your dinner money on the side,’ and this time Ruby intended to reply, but before she could, she heard the front door slam shut. When she was younger, Mum always used to make Ruby come down and kiss her goodbye, but she’d long since given up trying. Ruby couldn’t remember when she’d last kissed her mother. On Mother’s Day, probably. It was what you did, like buying flowers and a card that said,
You’re the best mum in the world
, and managing to keep a straight face when she opened it. The funny thing was, she could have done with a hug from Mum now.

Before she got ready for school she checked her emails. There was nothing from Noah. Why hadn’t he replied? He kept his computer on twenty-four seven, and he received his messages on his phone too, so she was absolutely certain he had read her email, very likely only a few minutes after she’d sent it. Her blog wasn’t
back up either. She didn’t know what to think. Was there something wrong with his internet connection? Was he was annoyed with her for not wanting to follow his advice? But if so, then why hadn’t he just told her? Maybe he’d just had to rush out early and hadn’t had time. She’d corner him at school and talk to him about it, she decided. That way she could explain properly, discuss her reasons with him, even persuade him to help her. Revealing herself wouldn’t be easy; there were simply so many unknowns. It would be good to have someone she could confide in and talk things through with, an ally.

After she had washed her face and pulled her hair into a ponytail, she decided to squeeze the two large zits that had formed overnight on either side of her chin. It was a mistake. Neither of them had yet come to a head, so there was no satisfying whooshing sound as the pressure released, and when she had finished, there was more blood than pus in the tissue. Now she felt ugly and self-conscious too. Her mother had left a cup of coffee out for her in the kitchen. It was lukewarm and bitter, despite the sugars, so she abandoned it on the counter.

Noah wasn’t at school when she arrived, which was weird because he was never later than her. It was possible that he was ill, she thought, but he hadn’t said anything about not feeling well yesterday. Perhaps it was one of those bugs that comes on suddenly in the night. She felt the glands at the sides of the neck, hoping
she hadn’t caught it. She did feel a little off-colour, but that could just have been nerves, or lack of sleep. It was also possible that Noah had an appointment she wasn’t aware of, at the dentist or optician, something that couldn’t be fitted in after school and was too boring to have mentioned. She texted him a couple of times during the morning, between lessons, to ask where he was, but he didn’t reply. His phone was probably switched off, or out of reach. She grasped for a simple explanation, pushing aside her fears that something had happened to Noah, or that he was avoiding her. She wasn’t sure which would be worse. The longer she went without hearing from him, the more worried and frustrated she became. She was desperate to talk to him. If she was going to do it, do
it
, she didn’t want to do it without him.

Lunch break came and still there was no sign of Noah. She texted him:
R U OK? x
. Again, he didn’t reply. He must really be angry with me, she decided, and she felt a pang of something that was a little like fear.

‘What’s up?’ asked Hanni, for the sixth or seventh time. ‘You seem really quiet today. Moody.’

‘Nothing, I’m fine, just tired,’ said Ruby, rubbing her eyes to make the point. She wanted to tell Hanni what was going on – her friends deserved to know the truth before she went public with it – but she had no idea how to broach the subject, or how they might react. ‘Just stuff with my mum and dad. I’ll tell you later,’ she added,
guiltily, and Hanni gave her a rather smug, conspiratorial smile, which said, ‘I knew there was more to it.’

Ross walked past them and nodded, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to blank Ruby but wouldn’t deign to speak to her now either. She nodded back, surprised at how little his indifference hurt. Nothing had ever been said; it hadn’t been a relationship with a proper beginning or a middle, so perhaps it was fitting that there hadn’t been a definite end either. It had just drifted in and out of existence.

‘Are you all right? About him, I mean,’ said Hanni, gesturing towards Ross. She put her hand on Ruby’s shoulder.

‘Course, why wouldn’t I be?’

‘Only because you had a thing with him. And I heard he was seeing someone else now.’

‘Is he? Good for him. I really don’t mind, I’m not just saying it.’ I’ve got someone else too, she thought. If only she could find a way to tell Hanni.

‘Sure, hon,’ said Hanni, unconvinced. ‘Hey, there’s Mand.’ She beckoned their friend over. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Just talking to a couple of sixth-form lads. Hey, guess what they told me: did you know they’ve got that Robyn Hood girl?’

‘What, again?’ said Hanni. ‘Who is it this time? Don’t tell me: your friend’s friend’s second cousin’s sister? Or maybe it’s Miss Duncan.’

Amanda groaned. ‘No, seriously, someone tweeted it earlier. It’s all over the web. The real deal, they said. It was even on the news and everything. So it must be true.’

Ruby felt sick. Yet another girl had made a false confession, and this time it sounded like she was being taken seriously. How long would it be before this girl was found to be a fraud too? A few hours? A few days? People were going to get fed up and lose interest soon, she was certain of it. There was already less talk, fewer stories. Maybe she’d missed her moment. Why hadn’t she insisted on the police coming to Kelly’s yesterday? She should have made a bigger fuss, broken something, hit that security guard, if that was what it took. Even if she hadn’t gone that far, why hadn’t she demanded that her parents take her straight to the police station, instead of letting them rant at her until she went to bed? It really wasn’t just about being famous any more, it was about revealing the truth, about making things right. ‘So who is it then?’ she asked.

‘I dunno,’ said Amanda. ‘Sorry. All I know is someone handed themselves in to the police this morning and said they were Robyn Hood.’

‘Stupid,’ said Hanni. ‘Why go to the police and not the papers? Or the TV? That’s what I’d do. Didn’t they already say she wouldn’t get done for anything?’

Amanda shrugged. ‘It’ll probably turn out to be some nutter, like those people who confess to murders they
didn’t do. But hey, maybe this time it really is Robyn Hood, like they’re saying. Her blog’s disappeared. I had a look before. No sign of it. Weird, huh?’

‘Oh right,’ said Ruby, somehow managing to control her voice. ‘That is strange. Listen, I need the loo. I’ll see you both in French, OK?’