Noughts and Crosses (5 page)

He never called them Crosses. They were always
daggers
.

‘Why don’t you go and get stuffed?!’

‘Callum, son, don’t talk to your brother like . . .’ Dad didn’t get any further.

‘Callum, were you with
her
again?’ Mum’s eyes took on a fierce, bitter gleam.

‘No, Mum. I went for a walk, that’s all.’

‘That had better be all.’ Mum banged down the dinner pan. Pasta sloshed over the sides and onto the table. Seconds later, Jude had whipped up the overspill and it was in his mouth!

Astounded seconds ticked past as everyone at the table stared at Jude. He even had Lynette’s attention – and that was saying something. Not much brought my sister out of her mysterious world.

‘How come the only time you move faster than greased lightning is when food is involved?’ Mum said, her lips twitching somewhere between disgust and amusement.

‘It’s called incentive, Mum,’ Jude grinned.

Amusement won. Mum started to laugh. ‘I’ll give you incentive, my lad!’

And for once I was grateful to Jude for drawing attention away from what I’d been doing all afternoon. I
glanced around the table. Already Lynette was turning away, her head bowed as always, her attention on her lap – as always.

‘Hi, Lynny . . .’ I spoke softly to my big sister. She looked up and gave me the briefest of smiles before returning her gaze to her lap.

My sister looks like me – the same brown hair, eyes the same shade of grey. Jude’s got black hair and brown eyes and looks like Mum. Lynny and I don’t look like Mum or Dad particularly. Maybe that’s part of the reason why we’ve always been close. Closer than Jude and I. She was the one who looked after me when Mum had to work and couldn’t take me with her. But now she can’t even look after herself. She’s a bit simple. She looks her age, twenty, but her mind is outside time. She’s away with the fairies as my grandma used to say. She wasn’t always that way. Three years ago something happened which changed her. An accident. And just like that the sister I knew was gone. Now she doesn’t go out, doesn’t talk much, doesn’t think much as far as I can tell. She just
is
. She stays lost in the middle of her own world somewhere. We can’t get in and she doesn’t come out. Not often anyway, and certainly not for any length of time. But her mind takes her to somewhere kind, I think, to judge by the peaceful, serene look on her face most of the time. Sometimes I wondered if it was worth losing your marbles to find that kind of peace. Sometimes I envied her.

‘So where have you been all this time?’ Mum resumed her previous conversation.

And I’d thought I’d got away with it. I should’ve guessed that Mum wouldn’t let the matter rest. Once she
gets a bee in her knickers . . .

‘Just walking, I told you.’

‘Hhmmm . . .’ Mum’s eyes narrowed but she turned around and headed back to the cooker for the mince. I breathed an outward sigh of relief. Mum was obviously tired because for once she’d chosen to believe me.

Lynette gave me one of her secret smiles. She turned to spoon pasta onto her plate as Mum returned with the pan of mince.

‘Ready for school tomorrow, Callum?’ Dad said warmly, seemingly oblivious to the instant tension rising up around the table like razor wire.

‘Ready as I’ll ever be, Dad,’ I muttered, pouring myself a glass of milk from the dinner jug so that I wouldn’t have to look at anyone.

‘It’ll be tough, son, but at least it’s a start. My son is going to Heathcroft High School. Imagine that!’ Dad took a deep breath, his chest actually puffing up with pride as he smiled at me.

‘I still think he’s making a big mistake . . .’ Mum sniffed.

‘Well, I don’t.’ Dad’s smile vanished as he turned to Mum.

‘He doesn’t need to go to their schools. We noughts should have our own schools with the same opportunities that the Crosses enjoy,’ Mum retorted. ‘We don’t need to mix with them.’

‘What’s wrong with mixing?’ I asked, surprised.

‘It doesn’t work,’ Mum replied at once. ‘As long as the schools are run by Crosses, we’ll always be treated as second-class, second-best nothings. We should look after and
educate our own, not wait for the Crosses to do it for us.’

‘You never used to believe that,’ said Dad.

‘I’m not as naïve as I used to be – if that’s what you mean,’ Mum replied.

I opened my mouth to speak but the words wouldn’t come. They were just a jumble in my head. If a Cross had said that to me, I’d be accusing them of all sorts. It seemed to me we’d practised segregation for centuries now and that hadn’t worked either. What would satisfy all the noughts and the Crosses who felt the same as Mum? Separate countries? Separate planets? How far away was far enough? What was it about the differences in others that scared some people so much?

‘Meggie, if our boy is going to get anywhere in this life, he has to go to their schools and learn to play the game by their rules. He just has to be better at it, that’s all.’

‘That’s all?’

‘Don’t you want something more for your son than we ever had?’ Dad asked, annoyed.

‘How can you ask me that? If you think . . .’

‘I’m sure everything will be fine, Mum. Don’t worry,’ I interrupted.

Mum clamped her lips together, her expression thunderous. She stood up and went over to the fridge. I could tell from the way she took out the water bottle and slammed the fridge door shut that she wasn’t happy. My going to school was the only thing I’d ever heard my parents argue about. Mum twisted the top off the bottle and tipped it so that it was directly over the yellow painted pottery jug she’d made a few weeks back. Water gushed out, rising up in the jug to slosh over the sides and down
onto the work surface, but she didn’t alter the angle of the bottle.

‘You’ll soon think you’re too good for us.’ Jude punched me on the arm for good measure. ‘Just don’t go getting too big for your boots!’

‘Of course he won’t. And you’ll be on your best behaviour at Heathcroft, won’t you?’ Dad beamed. ‘You’ll be representing all of us noughts at the school.’

Why did I have to represent all noughts? Why couldn’t I just represent myself?

‘You must show them they’re wrong about us. Show them we’re just as good as they are,’ Dad continued.

‘He doesn’t need to go to their stuck-up school to show them that.’ Mum came back to the table, slamming the water jug down on the plastic tablecloth.

Milk and water, water and milk – that was all we ever had with our dinner. Unless we were extra short of money, in which case it was just water. I lifted my glass of milk to my mouth and closed my eyes. I could almost smell the orange juice Sephy’s family nearly always had at their dinner table. Chardonnay for her mother and a claret for her dad and a choice of fizzy water, fruit juice – usually orange – and/or fizzy ginger beer for Sephy and her sister, Minerva. No bottled tap water for them. I remembered years ago when Sephy had snuck me my first taste of orange juice. It was icy-cold and oh, so sweet and I held each sip in my mouth until it became warm because I was so loath to swallow. I wanted the orange juice to last – but of course it hadn’t. Sephy snuck me orange juice as often as she could after that. She couldn’t understand why I loved it so much. I think she still can’t.

I took a sip of my drink. My juice had too obviously passed through a cow first! I guess I didn’t have enough imagination to turn milk into orange juice.

‘He’ll soon be as stuck-up as them.’ Jude prodded me in the same place where he’d just punched me, turning his finger this way and that to make sure that it really hurt.

I put down my glass and glared at Jude.

‘Come on then . . .’ Jude whispered for my ears only.

I carefully placed my hands on my lap, my fingers interlocked.

‘What’s the matter? Am I embarrassing you?’ Jude teased maliciously.

Beneath the table, my fingertips were beginning to go numb, I was pressing them together so hard. Ever since I’d passed the exam and got into Heathcroft, Jude had become totally unbearable. He spent every waking moment trying to goad me into hitting out at him. So far I’d managed to resist the intense temptation – but only just. I had sense enough to know that if Jude and I got into a fight, he’d wipe the floor with me. I hated it here so much. Oh, to get away. Far away. Even if I couldn’t get up and physically leave the table, I had to get out of here before . . . before I exploded.

Sephy . . . Sephy and the beach . . . and Maths . . . and our kiss. I smiled as I remembered her insisting that I wipe my mouth before our first kiss. She did make me laugh.

That’s right, Callum. Just drift away. Out of the house . . . back to the beach . . . back to Sephy . . .

She did make me laugh . . .

‘You’re not listening to a single word, are you?’ Mum’s rasp cut through my reverie.

‘I was listening,’ I denied.

‘What did I just say then?’

‘My new uniform is over my chair and I’m to get up extra early and have a wash before putting them on. My writing books are in the school bag under my bed,’ I repeated.

‘You heard me. That doesn’t mean you were listening!’ Mum replied.

I smiled. ‘What’s the difference?’

‘My reaction!’ Mum said at once. Smiling reluctantly, she sat down. The atmosphere wasn’t perfect, but at least it was better than it had threatened to be less than five minutes ago.

‘A son of mine at Heathcroft School.’ Dad shook his head, his spoon poised before his lips. ‘Imagine that!’

‘Shut up and eat your food, fool!’ Mum snapped.

Dad looked at her and burst out laughing. Everyone else joined in – except Lynette.

I spooned pasta and mince into my mouth, smiling as I chewed. To tell the truth, I was looking forward to school tomorrow. I was actually going to secondary school. I could make something of myself, do something with my life. Once I had a proper education behind me, no-one could turn around and say, ‘You’re not smart enough or good enough’. No-one. I was on my way UP! And with a proper education behind me, nothing could stand between Sephy and me. Nothing.

I moved the cursor over to
SHUT DOWN
and clicked, yawning as I waited for my PC to switch off. It seemed to be taking for ever tonight. At last, there was a clunk and the screen went black. I pressed the button to switch off my monitor and switched off the loudspeakers. Now for a quick drink and then bed. First day of school tomorrow. I groaned at the thought. School! I’d see all my friends again and we’d have the usual conversations, about the places we’d visited, the films we’d seen, the parties we’d posed at – and before long it would be like we’d never been away from school at all. The same old faces, the same old teachers, the same old, same old! But that wasn’t strictly true, was it? At least tomorrow would be a bit different from the start of every other new term. Four noughts, including Callum, were starting at my school. Maybe he’d even be in my class. And if he wasn’t we were bound to share some lessons together.
My best friend was going to attend my very own school
. That one thought alone was enough to make me grin like a silly idiot!

‘Please God, let Callum be in my class,’ I whispered.

I walked out of my room and headed along the landing. Callum in my class . . . That would be so great! I was looking forward to showing him the playing fields and the
swimming pool, the gym and the music rooms, the dining hall and the science labs. And I’d introduce him to all my friends. Once they got to know him, they’d think he was as great as I did. It was going to be wonderful.

I crept down the stairs. As thirsty as I was, I didn’t relish the prospect of running into Mother. She was so miserable. I couldn’t understand it. I could still remember when Mother had been all smiles and hugs and jokes – but that was long ago and far away now. About three years ago. Since then, there had been a complete change. Her sense of humour had grown old and died before the rest of her and these days her lips were turned down in a frown that was permanently carved into her skin.

I shook my head. If that’s what growing old was about then I never wanted to grow old. At least Dad was still fun – when he was around, which wasn’t often. Every adult I met for the first time loved to tell me how great my dad was – how he was so smart, so funny, so handsome, how he was destined to go all the way to the top. I’d’ve liked to discover those things about my dad for myself. A man with oily hands and a sweaty smell who came to Mother and Dad’s last dinner party had spent his entire time with me talking about how Dad would be Prime Minister one day and how I must be so proud of him. I mean, that man could’ve won a gold medal at the International Games for being the most boring person in the world. Why on earth would I care about Dad becoming the Prime Minister? I saw little enough of him as it was. If he became Prime Minister I’d have to watch the telly just to remember what he looked like.

‘Those bleeding heart liberals in the Pangaean Economic Community make sick! They said we in this
country had to open our schools to noughts, so we did. They said we had to open our doors to recruiting noughts into our police and armed forces, so we did. And they’re still not satisfied. And as for the Liberation Militia, I thought letting a few blankers into our schools would spike their guns . . .’