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

mean, did she really think I was that stupid? Jeez! I knew a one-way mirror when I saw one.

I had nothing to say to them. I had nothing to say to anyone about my ordeal in the cabin in the woods. I didn’t even want to think about it. It hurt my head and stung my eyes and broke my heart to think about it. Not the kidnapping so much, although that’d been bad enough. But Callum . . . I couldn’t bear to think about Callum. And yet every thought seemed to find its own way back to him. He was never out of my mind. And it was driving me crazy.

I entered the kitchen and made myself some dry toast and a cup of weak blackcurrant tea. It helped. A bit. A very little bit.

‘Oh, there you are,’ Minnie entered the kitchen to sit opposite me at the breakfast bar. ‘You OK?’

‘Yes. Apart from this tummy bug?’

‘You’ve been sick for the last couple of mornings, haven’t you?’ Minnie frowned.

‘How d’you know?’

‘I’ve heard you calling on the porcelain telephone!’

I raised an eyebrow and carried on eating my toast. I wasn’t in the mood for any of my sister’s so-called jokes.

‘When’re you going to talk about what happened to you when you were kidnapped?’ Minnie asked.

‘Never.’

‘You shouldn’t bottle it up inside . . .’

‘Back off, Minnie. OK?’ I snapped. ‘My being kidnapped won’t reflect badly on you in any manner, shape or form so you can leave me alone now.’

‘What’re you talking about? I’m concerned about you.’

‘Yeah, right!’ I took another bite of toast.

‘What happened to you out there?’ Minnie asked softly.

‘I was kidnapped. I escaped. Now you know as much as I do.’ I chewed my last piece of toast and swallowed it down with a sip of rapidly cooling fruit tea.

‘Sephy, are . . . are you pregnant?’

‘What’re you talking about? Of course I’m . . . not . . .’ The words trailed away to nothing. I stared at my sister, in a daze.

‘So you could be?’ Minnie said grimly. ‘Who was it? One of the kidnappers?’

‘I can’t be . . . I can’t be pregnant . . .’ I whispered, aghast.

‘Who was it, Sephy? You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.’

I sprang up and raced from the room, like if I could only run fast enough I could leave my sister’s words far behind me.

Come on, Sephy! Just do it. The pregnancy test doesn’t work unless you actually use it! Just do it. And one minute later, you’ll know. If it stays white you’re not pregnant. You’ll have ducked a bullet and no one need ever know. And if it turns blue . . .

For heaven’s sake, do it. Anything’s better than this not knowing.

I picked up the leaflet and read the instructions again. It seemed straightforward enough. One indicator stick included. Just add urine. Nothing to it. So get on with it. I took a deep breath and followed the instructions. Which was silly of me, because I knew I wasn’t pregnant.

I couldn’t be. Not now. Not like this.

I placed the now-wet indicator stick on top of the toilet cistern whilst I washed my hands.

All I had to do now was wait. Just one minute to go.

The longest minute of my life. I sat down on the closed toilet lid, my back to the indicator stick as I counted up to sixty. I stopped at fifty-nine, unable to even think the next number, never mind say it.

I’m not pregnant. Just because I’ve been a bit sick in the mornings . . . That doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a delayed reaction to everything that’s happened to me over the last few weeks. That’s all. Steeling myself, I turned around, my eyes closed. I opened my eyes slowly. I didn’t even have to pick it up. I could see its colour very clearly.

What am I going to do? God help me, what am I going to do?

one hundred and six.

Callum

Now I don’t have anything. Not even the Liberation Militia. And there’s still three months to go before I meet up with Morgan and my brother again. I miss them. When you work with people for so long, your life in their hands and their lives in yours, they almost become family. Sometimes even closer than real family. I thought about going to see Mum. I even got so far as to stand outside my aunt’s house. I had so many questions I wanted to ask her. But then I changed my mind. Some things are best left unsaid. And seeing me would hurt Mum even more than not seeing me, especially as there was no way I could stay.

Sometimes when it’s late at night and I’m all alone in a room or sleeping rough on the streets, I look up at the moon or one of the stars and imagine that at that precise moment, she is looking at the very same thing.

Why did she cry?

I guess I’ll never know. I doubt if I’ll ever see her again.

I’ve finally figured it out. I’m dead. I died a long time ago, woke up in hell and didn’t even realize. Thinking about it, I must’ve died just before I started at Heathcroft school. That’s what happened.

I know I’m right.

one hundred and seven.

Sephy

There came the lightest of taps at the door. I quickly wiped my eyes and jumped off the bed to sit at my dressing-table. I picked up the first thing to hand, a comb, and began to comb my hair.

‘Come in.’

Minnie entered my room, closing the door quietly behind her. I watched her via my dressing-table mirror. She’d been watching me very strangely for the last few days. Or was it the last few weeks?

‘Sephy, are you OK?’

‘Is that what you came in here to ask me?’ I frowned.

Minnie nodded.

‘Yes, I’m fine. Now stop asking me that,’ I snapped.

‘I’m concerned