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

all those years pretending to be my friend, just praying for this moment.’

Shut up! Shut up . . . Ignore her, Callum. Just ignore her. Put a strait-jacket on your feelings. Don’t let her see how much she’s getting to you . . .

‘What about the night we spent together in my room?’ she asked. ‘Didn’t that mean anything to you?’

‘You mean, the couple of days before you murdered my father?’ I asked, harshly.

‘Your father died trying to escape . . .’

‘My father chose to die because he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life in prison for something he didn’t do.’

Sephy’s gaze lowered briefly. She looked up again and said, ‘I didn’t murder your father, Callum. I didn’t want him to die.’

‘You and your kind killed him,’ I told her, zipping up the camcorder case.

‘So you are going to kill me. But not you personally, I bet,’ Sephy’s voice trembled. ‘That’s not your style, is it? You set me up so your friends could capture me. You’re real good at letting others do your dirty work for you.’

I spun around at that. ‘You wouldn’t be the first dagger I’ve killed. Not by a long shot.’

‘And I’d be easy to kill, wouldn’t I?’ Sephy said quietly. ‘’Cause I don’t count. I’m nothing. Just a black dagger bitch. Just like you’re a white blanker bastard.’

And now I was furiously angry. Just like I’d wanted to be before I could do what I had to do next. I grabbed her left hand and before she could pull away, I drew my knife across her index finger. Sephy gasped, tears instantly springing to her eyes. And my anger died with such a suddenness that I knew it hadn’t been real to begin with. Manufactured to get me through the moment. The day. My life.

‘Sorry . . .’ I mumbled, wrapping her T-shirt around her finger. I concentrated on getting her blood on to the T-shirt. I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t. The white cotton of her shirt soaked up the blood like blotting paper. I unwrapped the shirt and dragged her still bleeding finger up and down it. The final proof for her father that we were deadly serious. The final proof that we were deadly. Sephy kept trying to pull her hand back but I wouldn’t let her.

‘I bet you enjoyed that,’ Sephy hissed at me.

‘No, I didn’t,’ I snapped back, letting go of her wrist at last.

Sephy put her finger into her mouth, wincing as the wound stung anew. She took her finger out of her mouth to look at it. It was still bleeding. The cut was deep – for both of us. Deeper than I’d intended. A scratch would’ve been deeper than I intended. She went to put her finger back in her mouth but I grabbed her hand again. She struggled, trying to pull her hand away. Maybe she thought I was going to cut her again. I put her finger in my mouth. And she was instantly still. I don’t know how long we sat there, watching each other. A second? An hour? Sephy moved first. She slowly pulled back her finger.

‘When you all decide you don’t need me any more,’ Sephy whispered, ‘I want you to . . . do it. One favour though. It’s the last thing I’ll ever ask you. J-just make it quick. OK?’ And she turned around and lay down on her side of the bed, her back towards me.

I stared at her back, my fists clenched, reining myself in so tightly, I thought my back would snap. Only when I could trust myself to stand without falling to the floor did I get up. I left the room, carefully locking the door behind me. I leaned against the door, my eyes closed. I had to do this, make it through this. And I would. I turned to walk back to the living room, only to find my brother further down the corridor, watching my every move.

‘Yes?’ I asked, annoyed.

Everywhere I turned at the moment, Jude seemed to be watching me.

‘Give me the disc.’

I handed over the T-shirt and Sephy’s hair before taking out the camcorder. I opened it up, took out the video disc and put it in its case before handing it over.

Jude held it up carefully, before slipping it into his pocket. He looked long and hard at the T-shirt. When at last he looked at me, his grin was full of admiration and relief. ‘Now I know for sure whose side you’re on. Well done, little brother. Pete and I are going to deliver all this as well as our demands. Leila and Morgan will guard the house. Sephy Hadley is your responsibility. Understand?’

I didn’t answer. It was unheard of for the first- and second-in-command to go off on a joint mission together like this. Why wasn’t Jude going with Morgan? Or Pete going with me? Why did Jude want to be with Pete? There was something going on here . . .

‘We should be back by morning,’ Jude continued. ‘If the General’s second-in-command arrives before we get back, make him welcome – after he’s given you the password.’

‘Which is?’

‘Golden Man.’

Jude went to move past me. I stood back against the wall to let him go. Jude was my brother but I trusted him less far than an elephant could jump. More than ever I sensed the need to watch my back, my front, my sides and every other part of me – if I wanted to keep them in one piece, that is.

ninety-seven. Sephy

The door opened again. I didn’t even bother turning around this time. I lay on my side facing the wall. Rubbing my sore hand over my aching stomach, I fervently wished the pain away.

‘Dinner,’ came Callum’s rough voice.

I ignored him and carried on rubbing my stomach, waiting for the sound of the door closing. It didn’t come. Callum’s footsteps echoed across the hard cement floor.