Noughts and Crosses by Malorie Blackman (historical books to read TXT) 📕

‘I’m not a member of the L.M. I never have been,’ Callum denied harshly.

‘How did you know about the bomb at the Dundale then?’

Callum pressed his lips firmly together. I recognized that look, he wasn’t going to say a word.

‘You should’ve let me get blown up, Callum. Sometimes . . . sometimes I wish you had . . .’

Callum kissed me then. And it wasn’t like the first time we’d kissed either. He wrapped his arms around me and closed his eyes and kissed me. And after a startled moment, I did exactly the same.

And it wasn’t bad, either.

But it wasn’t enough. Our kiss deepened and his hands began to wander, and so did mine.

And it made things better. But it wasn’t enough.

fifty-six. Callum

Of course I admit it. Things went too far. We didn’t go all the way. Not all the way. But I’d only meant to kiss her to show that I didn’t care if she reeked of ruddy cider. I wouldn’t even care if her face was covered with puke . . . well, maybe that’s going a bit far! But I wanted to show her . . . Anyway. I’m going to have to be more careful. Sephy’s just a kid really. We both stopped in time. Not just one of us. I think we both realized we were moving too far too fast.

But now, the thing is, I’m doing my head in thinking about her. Jude would bust a gut if he could read my mind. He’d probably literally do it too. I’m only sixteen and Sephy’s not even fifteen yet. In my world the trouble never stops. In hers, it never starts. This drinking nonsense is just her way of getting attention. I mean, it’s not even as if she’s getting drunk on proper booze. Not whisky or gin or vodka but cider, for goodness’ sake! She’s bored, that’s all it is. I wish she could live half my life. Just half. That’d soon give her something to occupy her time.

Come on, Callum, think of something else or you’ll never get any sleep. I wonder what she’s doing at this precise moment. Lying in bed thinking of me? I hope so.

Dear God, if you really are out there, somewhere, please find some way for Sephy and I to be together when we’re older. For good and all when we’re older. Together for ever. Dear God, please. If it’s not too much to ask. If you’re out there . . .

Callum for goodness’ sake, stop daydreaming and get some sleep. You’re being totally pathetic. Stop it!

There was no warning. No knock at the door. No warning shouts. Nothing. The first I knew about it was the CRASH when our front door was battered in. Shouts. Calls. A scream. Footsteps charging. Doors banging. More shouts. More footsteps – pound, pound, pound up the stairs. By the time I was fully awake and had swung my legs out of bed, smoke was everywhere. At least I thought it was smoke. I dropped to the floor.

‘Jude? JUDE!’ I yelled, terrified that my brother was still asleep. I jumped up, looking around for him.

It was only then that I realized it wasn’t smoke filling my room, filling the house. The strong smell of garlic caught in the back of my throat and brought instant tears to my eyes. I coughed and coughed, my lungs threatening to explode from my body and my eyes were streaming. Tear gas. I struggled to my feet and groped my way to the front door.

‘DOWN! GET DOWN!’ A voice, no, more than one voice, screamed at me.

I turned in the direction of the voice, only to be pushed to my knees, then down to the ground. My chin hit the hard floor, making me bite down on my tongue. My arms were jerked behind my body. Hands bent back. Cold, hard steel cutting into my wrists. My eyes hurt. My lungs hurt. My tongue hurt. I was pulled to my knees, then yanked up. Pushed and pulled and punched forward. I couldn’t see. I closed my burning eyes – and I admit, I was crying by now, trying to clear the tear gas, desperate to stop the pain. My lungs were being filed with sandpaper. Stop breathing. Just stop. But I couldn’t. And each breath was strong as ammonia, sharp as a razor.

‘JUDE! MUM! DAD!’ I called out, only to choke over the words. Only to choke. I couldn’t take much more. My body began to seize up, curl in on itself. And suddenly we were out. Out of the house. Out into the cool, night air. I tried to draw a breath. My lungs were being sliced. I gasped. More air – clean, fresh air. Just as I was pushed into the back of a car, I heard my mum crying.

‘MUM!’ I called. I blinked, and blinked again, looking around, trying to see her. Shapes and shadows swam before me. The car took off. My hands were still handcuffed behind my back. My whole body hurt.

And I still didn’t know why.

fifty-seven. Sephy

I can’t keep doing this, bouncing between Mother and Minnie and school and Callum like a pinball. Everyone’s controlling my life except me. And I can feel it’s going to get worse, not better. I need to do something. I need . . . I need to get out of here.

But Callum . . .

I don’t want to lose him. I don’t want to leave him. But I must. Callum’s a survivor. I’m not. He’ll understand if I explain it to him. I can’t think when I’m around him. He confuses me. Around him, all I do is think about him. Sad, but true! Pathetic, but true!

He kissed me tonight. And held me. And ran his hands over my back and my bum and my waist. And pressed me against him. And it felt