Noughts and Crosses (13 page)

The train journey from hell, that’s what it was. A journey which ruined the rest of the day as far as I was concerned. We were on our way to Celebration Park. There were
only three more stops to go – when they got on. Police officers on a routine inspection. Two of them, boredom plastered over their faces.

‘
ID
passes please.
ID
passes please.’

Sephy looked surprised. I wasn’t. We both dug out our
ID
cards as they made their way up the first-class train carriage. I watched the cursory glances they gave the
ID
passes of all the Crosses in the carriage. I was the only nought. Would they stop and ask me lots of questions? Huh! Is pig poo smelly?

An officer of trim build and sporting a pencil-thin moustache stood right in front of me. He looked at me then took my
ID
pass without a word.

‘Name?’ he snapped out.

What’s the matter? Can’t you read?

‘Callum McGregor.’

‘Age?’

‘Fifteen.’

Can’t read numbers either, huh? That’s too bad
.

‘Where are you going?’

None of your business
.

‘Celebration Park.’

‘Why?’

To cut my toenails
.

‘Picnic.’

‘Where d’you live?’

On the moon
.

‘Meadowview.’ Meadowview by euphemistic name only. Rubbishshackview would’ve been more appropriate. The officer looked from my
ID
card to my face and back again. My thumbprint was on the card. Was he going
to break out a magnifying glass and ask me to hold out my right hand so he could compare the imprint on the card to my print? It wouldn’t’ve surprised me.

‘You’re a long way from home, boy.’

I bit down on the inside of my bottom lip, not trusting myself to speak. Both officious officials stood in front of me now. There was barely enough room to get a paperclip between their legs and my knees. I sighed.

Ladies and gentlemen, for your delectation and delight, another performance of ‘You’re a nought and don’t you ever forget it, blanker boy
.’

‘Let me see your ticket.’

I handed it over.

‘Where did you get the money to buy this kind of ticket?’

I looked up at them, but didn’t speak. What was there to say? They had the scent of blood in their nostrils and I didn’t stand a chance, no matter what I said or did. So why bother?

‘I asked you a question,’ Moustaches reminded me.

As if I’d forgotten.

‘Did you buy this ticket?’ Moustache’s accomplice asked.

The truth or prevarication? What was Sephy thinking? I couldn’t see her. The no-brain brothers were in the way. If only I could see her face.

‘I asked you a question, boy. Did you buy this ticket?’

‘No, I didn’t,’ I replied.

‘Come with us, please.’

Time to get my posterior pummelled. Time to get my derrière dealt with. Time to get my bum bounced right off the train.

How dare a nought sit in first class? It’s outrageous. It’s a scandal. It’s disgusting. Disinfect that seat at once
.

‘Officer, he’s with me. I bought the tickets.’ Sephy was on her feet. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘And you are?’

‘Persephone Hadley. My dad’s the Home Office Minister, Kamal Hadley. Callum is my friend,’ Sephy said firmly.

‘He is?’

‘Yes, he is.’ Sephy’s voice had a steely tone to it that I’d never heard before. Not from her anyway.

‘I see,’ said Moustaches.

‘I can give you my father’s private phone number. I’m sure he’ll sort all this out in a moment. Or you’ll be able to talk to Juno Ayelette, his personal secretary.’

Careful, Sephy. I’m tripping over all those names you’re dropping.

‘So is there a problem, Officer?’ repeated Sephy.

Sniff! Sniff! Was I imagining things or was there the definite hint of a threat in the air? And I wasn’t the only one to smell it. Moustaches handed back my
ID
pass.

‘Would you like to see my
ID
as well?’ Sephy held out her pass.

‘That won’t be necessary, Miss Hadley.’ Moustaches almost bowed.

‘I really don’t mind.’ Sephy thrust it under Moustaches’ nose.

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Moustaches repeated, looking straight at Sephy. He didn’t even glance at her
ID
card.

Sephy sat back down again. ‘Well, if you’re sure.’

She turned to look out of the window. Moustaches was effectively dismissed. Sephy’s mother would’ve been proud. Moustaches glared at me like it was my fault. He’d been humiliated, and by a child no less, and he wanted to take it out on someone. Sephy was off-limits, and now, so was I. He was burning to re-establish his authority but he couldn’t. Not with us anyway. Moustaches and his colleague moved off down the carriage. Sephy turned to me and winked.

‘You OK?’ she asked.

‘Fine,’ I lied. ‘Wasn’t that fun?’

‘Not so as you’d notice.’ Sephy’s gaze returned to the passing scenery. ‘But I’m not going to let them or anyone else ruin my day. Celebration Park, here we come!’

I turned to look out of the window. I didn’t want to look at Sephy. Not yet. I didn’t want to blame her for the way the police treated me and every other nought I knew. I didn’t want to hold her responsible for the way security guards and store detectives followed me around every time I entered a department store. And I’d stopped going into bookshops and toy shops and gift shops when I realized that no matter where I went in them, all eyes were upon me. After all, it was one of those well-known Cross-initiated facts that we noughts didn’t pay for anything when there was the chance of stealing it instead. I didn’t want to resent Sephy for the way my education was automatically assumed to be less important than hers. I didn’t want to hate her because she was a Cross and different to me. So I carried on looking out of the window, pushing the knot of
loathing deeper inside me. Deeper and deeper. The way I always did.

No, I didn’t want to look at Sephy. Not yet.
Not yet
.

‘You’re thinking about those police officers on the train, aren’t you?’ I asked.

Callum didn’t even bother to deny it. But then why should he? In his shoes, they would’ve annoyed me as well.

Annoyed . . . Come on, Sephy, be honest. You were a lot more than just ‘annoyed’. And they weren’t even picking on you
.

‘Why did you want me to remember our trip to Celebration Park?’ I asked.

Callum shrugged, then smiled. ‘Because it was a good day. A day we had all to ourselves once we got to the park.’

That wasn’t true. He’d wanted to say something about our train journey to Celebration Park and my mother not letting him in to see me. Somehow, he felt one was connected with the other. I’m not completely stupid. I’m not as naïve as I used to be either. I’m finally growing up. I wanted Callum to tell me what he was really thinking, what he was really feeling, but part of me was afraid, I admit it. So I nodded noncommittally instead. It didn’t matter what I said to Callum or anyone else; my main memory of that day was of the police officers and how they’d treated Callum and how I’d burned with
resentment for him and how I’d been ashamed of them. And myself. I’d felt ashamed of myself a lot recently, and, if I’m honest, part of me resented Callum for it. I didn’t want to feel guilty for just being, but that’s how he was beginning to make me feel.

Suddenly all I had were questions. How come in all the early black-and-white films, the nought men were always ignorant drunkards or womanisers or both? And the women were always near-brainless servants? Noughts used to be our slaves but slavery was abolished a long time ago. Why were noughts never in the news unless it was bad news? Why couldn’t I stop looking at each stranger I passed and wondering about their lives?

I’d started watching people – noughts and Crosses. Their faces, their body language, the way they spoke to their ‘own’ kind. The way they spoke to others who weren’t the same. And there were so many differences, they swamped the similarities. Noughts relaxed around each other in a way they rarely did around Crosses. And Crosses were constantly on their guard when near noughts. Bags got clutched tighter, footsteps quickened, voices grew brisker and brusquer. All our lives crisscrossing but never really touching. A world full of strangers living with all that
fear
. Nothing was a given any more. Not my life. Not theirs. Nothing.

I can’t remember when our lives had become so complicated. A few years ago . . . or maybe even a few months ago, life had been so easy. But the ache in my chest told me like words couldn’t that those days were over.

‘It
was
a good day, wasn’t it?’ Callum smiled.

It took me a second to catch up. ‘Yes, it was.’

The truth, but not the whole truth and nothing but.

Say it, Callum. Whatever it is, say it. I can take it. At least, I’ll try . . .

But he didn’t. The silence dragged between us and the moment passed.

‘It’ll be winter soon,’ I sighed.

Winter always made it harder for me to leave the house and meet Callum. Mother accepted my many trips to the beach because as far as she was concerned, I was a dreamer and the beach was where I did my dreaming. Unlike the town house, our country place had minimum security so I could pretty much come and go as I pleased – within reason. And going down to the beach in winter was beyond reason as far as Mother was concerned. To be honest, walking down to the beach in the dark wasn’t my most favourite thing. Dusk and the air heavy with silence and long shadows made me . . . nervous.

‘Who pummelled you?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Who beat you up?’ Callum repeated.

‘Everyone’s asking me that,’ I sighed. ‘Can’t we just let it rest?’

‘You don’t want them to get away with it, do you?’

‘’Course not. But there’s not a lot I can do about it. Sure, I was going to tell the headmaster about them and get them expelled or put drawing-pins in their shoes or jump out at them when they were each alone. I was going to do all those things, but they’re not worth it. It happened and now it’s over, and I just want to forget about it.’

‘Tell me who did it and then you can,’ Callum said.

I frowned. ‘You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?’

‘’Course not. I’d just like to know who did this to you.’

‘Lola, Joanne and Dionne in Mrs Watson’s class.’ I said at last. ‘But it’s over now. OK?’

‘OK.’

‘Callum . . .’

‘I was just curious. Besides, what could I do? They’re Crosses and I’m a lowly nought.’ Callum tugged on his forelock before bowing low.

‘Stop it . . .’

‘Stop what?’

‘Callum, it’s me. Sephy. I’m not your enemy.’

‘I never said . . .’

I took Callum’s face in my hands. ‘Look at me, Callum.’

Only when I felt his whole body relax did I remove my hands from his face.

‘Sorry,’ he said at last.

‘So am I,’ I told him. ‘So am I.’

When I got home, the house was in uproar – and for once it had nothing to do with me. Lynette was having one of her ‘turns’ and Jude was letting it wind him up, as usual. When I stepped through the front door and heard him shouting at her, I thought, ‘Same old, same old!’