Noughts & Crosses 3 page

I did as requested. I sat so close that our arms and thighs were squashed against each other. I could feel Callie's body heat warming me through my clothes.

'What d'you smell of ?' I asked, sniffing at her neck.

'Why? Is it minging?' Callie sniffed at her wrist doubtfully. I suppose she had the same perfume I'd given her on her wrists as well. And of course she didn't reek. She smelled lovely.

'You smell of biscuits,' I told her.

Callie's eyebrows shot up. 'Thanks.'

'That's a compliment.'

Looking deeply unimpressed, Callie said, 'Tobey, a few words of advice. Don't tell Misty or any of your other girlfriends that they smell of biscuits. Tell them they smell of flowers, that they smell sexy, erotic, exotic, good enough to eat even, but not that they smell of biscuits.'

'But I like biscuits,' I protested.

'Is this another of your wind ups?' Callie said suspiciously.

I grinned at her, deciding that no answer would be the best answer in this case. I really did love the way Callie smelled and she smelled of biscuits, but I suspected if I pressed the issue, she'd go home and flush the rest of my Crossmas present to her down the loo.

Callie sighed and lay back on her elbows. I wished she wouldn't do that. It made her boobs stick out even more. Once again I had to force myself to concentrate on the area above Callie's shoulders.

'Fancy watching a film once we've finished our homework?' Callie asked.

I was instantly on my guard. 'What kind of film?'

'Angie's Mystery is on at nine o'clock,' Callie suggested.

'What's that?'

'It's a contemporary social drama set in—'

'Never mind where it's set. No.' The words 'social drama' were all I needed to hear to make up my mind on that one.

'Or there's Lovelorn on at the same time on Channel—'

'Hell, no! If it's got "love" in the title, I'm gone,' I told her straight. 'Can't we watch an action or a horror film?'

'What if I told you Lovelorn is an action musical.'

An action musical? Yeah, right.

'Nice try!'

Callie sighed. 'What's wrong with a romantic drama?'

'Callie, I'm not watching some drippy film that's all angst and sickly sweet sentimentality so you can sit there sighing and sniffing next to me,' I said. 'No way.'

'There's nothing wrong with the odd cathartic cry,'

Callie informed me. 'I learned that when Nana Jasmine died.'

'Well, I wouldn't know,' I replied.

Callie tilted her head as she regarded me. 'No, you wouldn't,' she agreed. 'Didn't you cry when your dad left?'

'Nope.' I wasn't going to cry over that. It wasn't like he hadn't run out on us before. And if he ever came back, he was bound to do a runner again. Crying over him would be like crying because the sun rose each morning.

'When was the last time you cried?' Callie asked with a frown.

'Years and years ago,' I said truthfully.

'There's nothing wrong with crying. Sometimes it's the only thing that makes things better.'

'I'm not even sure I know how any more.' Crying wasn't me. 'Can we change the subject please?'

Callie sighed, but did as I asked. 'So what d'you reckon your sister's excuse for bursting in on us will be this time?'

I shrugged. 'Who knows? Getting back one of her magazines?'

'Hunting down her college homework?' said Callie.

Like I'd keep any of her wigs or hairdressing stuff in my room. Jess went to hairdressing college just one day a week, but the stuff she brought home was pushing me and Mum out of the house.

'How about checking up on Cuddles, my pet snake . . . ?' I suggested.

'Despite the fact that Cuddles died over five years ago,' Callie pointed out wryly.

'Ah, but Jessica can commune with friendly spirits,' I reminded her. 'Snakes included.'

'Your sister is a woman of many talents.'

'If only that included minding her own—'

The door was flung open, its hinges protesting with a severe creak.

'I hope I'm not disturbing you two. Did you call me, Callie?' said Jessica. 'I thought I heard you call me.'

Callie and I exchanged a look. I didn't even have to glance down at my watch.

'I win,' I said softly.

'I did call you actually,' said Callie. 'I'm just about to make mad, passionate love to your brother and I wondered if you'd like to watch?'

'Ugh! Callie, I thought you had better taste.' Jessica's face contorted at the thought.

'Nope. I love the way Tobey and I get down and dirty. Watch us, Jessica. You might learn something.'

Callie pulled at the back of my T-shirt, almost strangling me in the process. I fell backwards before my Adam's apple was cut in two. Callie pounced. That's the only word for it. She pounced. Before I could blink, her lips were on mine and her tongue was darting into my mouth. And damn, it felt good. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her closer.

'That is so gross.' Jessica's voice barely registered. 'I'm outta here. You two have moved beyond sad into pitiful.'

I was vaguely aware of my bedroom door being slammed shut, but I didn't care. I pulled Callie closer still. Blood was rushing round my body, then to one particular part of my body. Callie smelled good, tasted great and felt even better. It took a few seconds to realize that Callie was trying to push away from me. I reluctantly let her go.

'We can stop now,' Callie told me, her warm breath fanning over my face. 'Your sister has gone.'

Sod my sister.

'Let's hope that cures her of her nosiness. For some reason Jessica didn't fancy the idea of watching you get your leg over.' Callie laughed.

'Godsake, Callie. Even I'm grossed out by that idea.' My lips twisted at the thought.

Callie sat up abruptly. Her smile had vanished. 'Making love with me would gross you out? Thanks a lot.'

I stared at her, then sat up myself. 'I meant . . . that's not what I meant. I meant about my sister being present.'

Callie's head tilted to one side. 'It's OK, Tobey. I get it. I'm not Misty.'

Was she nuts?

'I don't want you to be Misty. God forbid.'

Callie shrugged. She dug into her school rucksack and took out a couple of books. I sighed inwardly. She didn't believe me. Or was she winding me up as payback for earlier? Because if so, she was doing a first-class job. Usually I was streets ahead of her when it came to teasing, but over the last few months, the scales had been tipping in the other direction. She got to me like no one else.

'Callie, there's nothing going on between me and Misty,' I said.

'If you say so.' Callie still didn't look me in the eye.

'I do. And it means a lot to me that you believe that.'

'Why?'

'It just does,' I said, trying and failing to keep the impatience out of my voice. 'OK?'

'OK,' replied Callie. 'Ready to work on our school project now?'

Well, if she wanted to concentrate on homework, then I could too. Two could play that game.

'Now, about the Second World War – what point of view d'you want to write our newspaper article from? The POV of us winners or the losers?' Callie asked.

'I don't mind,' I said. 'You choose.'

'Which is what you always say whenever I ask you to make a decision,' said Callie, the faintest trace of irritation creeping into her voice. 'If you made an actual decision for yourself, would you get a nosebleed, or maybe a brain aneurysm?'

'What's wrong now?' I asked, exasperated.

Callie contemplated me, her head tilting to one side again. 'Tobey, what are we? Apart from uncomplicated?'

'We're friends,' I replied at once. 'We're good friends. Aren't we?' What was Callie getting at?

Callie nodded. 'I guess so.'

'Don't you know?'

'I'm waiting for you to figure it out, so you can tell me,' said Callie.

'What does that mean?'

'I'm waiting for you to figure that one out as well.' Callie smiled. 'Let's get on with our homework.'

Sometimes I don't understand Callie. At all.

I'm a reasonably smart guy, but I just don't get her.

Damn, but she's complicated.

Five. Callie

Sometimes I don't understand Tobey. At all.

He's the smartest guy I know, but he just doesn't get it.

Damn, but he's dense.

Six. Tobey

'Tobey, you still haven't told me about your careers meeting. How did it go?' asked Mum.

'Fine.' I grinned, putting down my glass of orange juice. 'Mrs Paxton was really encouraging. She reckons any university in the country will take me with the grades I can achieve if I don't let my work slip. And she's personally going to write my university reference.'

Mum smiled faintly at my enthusiasm, but I couldn't help it. Both Mrs Paxton, our head, and Mr Brooking, the school careers advisor, had basically told me that the world was mine, as long as I was prepared to keep working for it. It didn't matter what Dan and some of my friends outside of school said: I was going to go to university. Every time I thought of my future, it made me smile. And nothing and no one was going to hold me back or even break my stride.

My family were all sitting down having breakfast together, which was kind of rare as Mum's a nurse at Mercy Community Hospital, so she worked shifts. Jessica was still half asleep and picking at her fried egg and bacon. My plate was almost empty and I was eyeing Jessica's egg. If she wasn't going to eat it then I had room left in my stomach, as long as the egg wasn't cold. But if I took too much interest in Jess's breakfast, she'd gobble it up and swallow it down just to spite me.

'Mum, it's actually going to happen.' My smile widened.

'Hopefully,' said Mum.

'Not hopefully. It's gonna happen,' I amended. 'I'm going to university.'

Mum just shrugged.

'To do what?' asked Jessica.

'Something that'll make me a lot of money like an Economics or a Maths degree or maybe Business Studies with Information Technology,' I replied.

'That'll make you money?' Jessica said sceptically.

'Working with money makes money,' I said. 'Everyone knows that.'

'Don't you want to do a degree because you're interested in the subject rather than for the money you'll make at the end of it?' asked Jess.

'I'm being practical.'

'What would you do if you didn't have to worry about a job at the end of it?' my sister asked.

'I dunno.' I'd never really thought about that as it wasn't going to happen. 'Maybe Politics or Law. Something like that.'

'Tobey, don't set your heart on university,' Mum said gently. 'I can't afford three or four years' worth of fees, not on top of what I have to fork out to Jessica's college. I just don't have the money.'

'I know, Mum. Don't worry, I've got it all worked out. I'll take out a student loan to cover the tuition fees. And I'll start saving the money I earn from every holiday job I have from now on.'

'It's not just tuition fees,' Mum warned. 'You'll have to pay rent and bills and buy books and food.'

'University is for the rich or those prepared to be in debt until they're middle-aged. It's just another way of keeping us Noughts down,' Jess added.

'Isn't it more of a poor-versus-rich thing?' I frowned.

'Please,' Mum groaned. 'No politics at the breakfast table. It's too early.'

Going to university had always struck me as more of a social class thing than a race thing. As long as I wasn't going to one of those snooty, snotty 'historical' universities where they interviewed you first to ascertain your family's bank balance and social standing, what was the problem? If I got good grades in my end-of-school exams and I paid the tuition fees, surely that was enough for most universities and they wouldn't care that I was white? Mrs Paxton reckoned I had the right stuff to get into any university in the country. So, enough. I wasn't going to give voice to my doubts or argue the point. I was in too much of a good mood.

'Jess has a point, though,' said Mum. 'I mean, is that what you really want? To be in debt until your hair turns grey?'

'That's why, after university, I'm going to get a job that makes a lot of money so I can pay off the loan faster,' I said.

My good mood was rapidly evaporating. Mum and Jessica were only trying to make sure that I knew what I was letting myself in for, but they were both beginning to jump up and down on my nerves.

'Why d'you want to go to university anyway?' Jessica sniffed.

'Because I can,' I snapped. 'Because less than twenty years ago, a Nought going to university was unheard of, unless they were super rich. Because that door is open and all I have to do is walk through it.'

'For all the good it'll do you,' Jessica muttered.

'And that right there is why you'll be doing the same job in the same place for the same wage in thirty years' time.' I glared at her. 'Your attitude is why you'll always fail.'

'Thanks a lot,' Jess said indignantly.

'Does the truth hurt?' I asked with just a modicum of spite.

'Tobey, that's enough,' Mum admonished me.

'She started it,' I said childishly.

I sipped at my coffee, glaring at my sister. She gave as good as she got.

'So, Jess, how's college?' Mum asked, trying to draw her attention.

'Too much writing,' said Jess. 'Why on earth do I have to write essays on hair textures and nutrition and the structure of hair follicles? I want to cut and style hair, not lecture on it.'

'You do get to cut hair as well though, don't you?' Mum sounded worried.

Jessica wasn't keen on writing. Never had been.

'Yeah, but not enough,' my sister sighed. 'The four essays we had to do this year plus my exam next week count for sixty per cent of the total end-of-year mark.' Her eyes clouded over. Something was wrong . . .

'How d'you get the other forty per cent?' I asked.

'Practical work at my work placement and one practical assignment in front of my tutor,' said Jess.

'What's the pass mark for this year then?' I frowned.

'Seventy per cent.'

'And what happens if you fail?' I asked.

'She leaves college and gets a full-time job,' Mum answered before Jessica had the chance.

'They let you redo the year again as long as you pay the fees,' Jessica said, studying the peeling and chipped veneer on our table.

'No, Jess. If you fail this year, no more college,' said Mum sternly.

'How many of this year's essays have you done?' I asked.

'What is this? Some kind of inquisition?' Jessica exploded. 'I've done my essays. OK? I really want to be a hairdresser. I'm not about to mess that up.'

'Well, excuse me whilst I just run round the kitchen after my head.' I scowled. 'I was only asking.'

'When's your final exam, Jessica?' asked Mum, casting me a warning look.

'Next Thursday,' Jess replied, moderating her tone only slightly.

Mum glared at me. I got the message.

'I'm sorry, Jess,' I said reluctantly. I hated saying sorry to my sister. 'I didn't mean to upset you.'

Jessica shook her head slowly. 'It's all right for you, Tobey. You've never failed at anything in your life. God help you the first time you do fail, because you won't be able to handle it.'

'Then I won't fail.' I shrugged.

'And it's that simple, is it?'

'Yeah.'

I downed the rest of my orange juice and took my empty plate and glass to the sink. My appetite for more was gone.

Seven. Tobey

The summer morning was already blindingly bright and blazing hot with a promise of a lot more sunshine to come. A heat haze rose up from the pavement, creating a muddled urban mirage of shimmering skyscapes and flickering, glistening buildings. To be honest, I was already sick of the heat. Roll on autumn. I pulled the strap of my rucksack further up my arm to rest upon my shoulder. The thing was heavy and uncomfortable and made me walk with my whole body tilted to one side. But that wasn't why I was in a bad mood.

Breakfast with Mum and Jessica had been bad enough. But then Callie had let me down. She must've decided to walk to school by herself today, in spite of telling me last night that she'd knock for me. I was so used to going to school with Callie that when it didn't happen, it felt strange, like I'd set foot out of my house and forgotten something vital.

But I shouldn't have been surprised. More often than not these days, Callie was a silent companion. Since her nana had died, she'd changed. According to the newspaper reports, some anonymous Nought guy had died in the explosion as well. The authorities didn't seem to be straining themselves to establish his identity. Or maybe it'd been reported on page thirty-odd of the dead guy's local newspaper and hadn't managed to make it any further up the 'does-anyone-give-a-damn?' scale.

What had happened in that hotel the day Jasmine Hadley died? Was she really so unlucky as to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Was life really that arbitrary? It would appear so.

An executive jet-black WMW – known as 'white man's wheels' – pulled up alongside me, its back window gliding down in expensive silence.

'Tobey Durbridge, isn't it?'

I stepped back, pulling my rucksack closer to my side. The WMW before me was almost limousine-like in its proportions. It had to be custom-made. The alloy hubcaps had been polished to a high shine and I could see my distorted reflection in them. I took another step back, as did my reflection. We both had the same idea.

A Nought man's face moved into view. I recognized him at once. Alex McAuley. Aka Creepy McAuley (only ever said behind his back) or Softly McAuley (occasionally said to his face by close friends only) because he could be kicking your head in and he'd never once raise his voice. No one – as far as I knew – had ever heard him shout. He didn't need to. His dark-grey suit covered a middleweight boxer's physique. He was still in shape, even though he was in his mid thirties. He wore his blond hair swept back off his face. His light-brown eyebrows framed hard, ice-blue eyes. The single yellow diamond stud he wore in his left ear twinkled like a giggle in the morning sunlight. He smiled at me, pulling back thin lips over perfect, high-price, sparkling white teeth. I fought my natural instinct to take another step back or, better still, do a runner. It wouldn't do any good anyway. I saw the silhouette of another Nought man in the back seat of the car next to McAuley. Between them was a state-of-the-art laptop, McAuley's no doubt, with a memory stick attached. The driver and the guy in the passenger seat were also looking at me. McAuley's car was full. The rumours were true. He never, ever travelled alone.

I answered the expectant look on his face. 'Hello, Mr McAuley.'

'Ah. So you know me?' he replied, his tone soft and lilting.

I didn't bother responding to that one. If he needed his ego stroked he'd have to find someone else to do it for him.

'I've been hearing a lot about you, Tobey Durbridge,' he said.

My heart flipped like a pancake. Didn't like the sound of that. Not one little bit.

McAuley raised his eyebrows when I failed to reply. 'Aren't you going to ask me what I've heard?'

I shook my head.

'You're not the least bit curious?'

'If it's bad, it'll crush my ego, in which case I'd rather not hear it. And if it's good, it'll make my head swell, in which case I'd better not hear it.'

McAuley considered me. I was pinned by his gaze like a lepidopterist's butterfly. 'Curiosity moves us forward,' he said.

Around McAuley, curiosity could also move you under – buried two metres under, to be precise – but I decided to keep that to myself.

'You know when to keep your mouth shut, don't you?' McAuley smiled, even though there was nothing to smile about. Mind you, if I'd forked out the kind of money he must've spent on all those porcelain veneers, I'd show them off too. 'Tobey, how would you like to work for me? I could always use a smart boy like you.'

I'd rather have my toenails extracted one by one without benefit of a general anaesthetic, but McAuley was just the man to make that happen.

'Well? I asked you a question, Tobias.' McAuley's eyebrows began to knit together and, if anything, his voice grew quieter.

'I'm still at school, sir.'

'I have little jobs that need doing over the odd weekend and a couple of evenings a month – nothing onerous. And I'm very generous, as you'll find out.'

I'm a fish and he's the fisherman and he's got his hook in my mouth. My silence will let him reel me in. Say something, Tobey. Godsake! Speak.

'I'd rather not, sir,' I replied quietly.

Inside McAuley's car, his crew began to laugh.

'You're very polite, aren't you? "I'm still at school, sir." "I'd rather not, sir,"' McAuley mimicked. 'Three bags full, sir.'

A single line of sweat trickled down from my left temple in front of my ear, but I didn't dare wipe it away. My heart was a punching bag being viciously pummelled over and over.

'Tobey, you don't want to say no to me,' McAuley said softly. 'I don't like that word. I mean, I really don't like that word.'

A children's book. A first reader. My photo, legs pumping, terror on my face. See Tobey run. Run, Tobey, run.

I stood still, my feet glued to my shoes, my shoes glued to the pavement. My useless frickin' body. Adrenalin coursed through me. Fight or flight? I couldn't do either. Useless.

'I'm a good man to work for, Tobey.'

Why can't I just slide away on McAuley's oily smile?

'I'm a loyal friend and I look after my own. Ask anyone who works for me. Ask your friend Dan. But I think you'll find I'm also a—'

'Tobey! How come you didn't wait for me?'

Callie's voice reached me before she did. That girl had the ability to go from mute to surround sound in less than a second. She trotted up to me, to stand between me and McAuley.

'You were supposed to wait for me, toe-rag. Thanks for making me run after you. Now I'm all sweaty.'

I pulled at her arm and stepped in front of her.

'What's wrong?' Callie frowned.

My eyes were still on McAuley. His gaze swept over Callie then back to me.

'This your girlfriend then, Tobey?' he asked. 'She's very pretty.'

'No. We're just . . . we walk to school together, that's all,' I replied.

'And we'd better get going, Tobey. We're going to be so late.' Callie grabbed my arm and pulled me after her. I had to trot to keep up. I trailed in her wake, forcing myself not to turn round and look into McAuley's glacier-cold eyes. Half a minute later, his black limo slid past us, the tinted windows now up. Callie and I carried on jogging until the car turned the corner. Callie let go of my arm and dropped her rucksack to the pavement, trying to drag air back into her lungs in rushed gasps.

'Tobey, are you OK?'

'Yeah.' I shrugged.

'You left without me.' There was no mistaking the accusation in her voice.

'I thought you'd already gone to school, that's why.'

'You can knock for me once in a while, you know. It doesn't always have to be me running after you. Would it have killed you to check?' Callie looked up and down the road. 'What did Creepy McAuley want?'

'He offered me a job.'

'Hellfire!' Callie turned to stare at me. 'You didn't say yes, did you?'

'I'm not entirely stupid,' I replied. 'Although saying no to that man might just be the stupidest thing I've ever done.'

'People who work for him usually end up in prison or dead,' said Callie.

Tell me something I didn't know.

'Which is why I said no, Callie.'

'D'you think he'll leave it at that?' Callie's teeth worried at her bottom lip.

I shrugged. 'Who knows? No point losing sleep over it. We'd better get going.'

I picked up Callie's rucksack and handed it to her. We walked to school without saying another word. Callie kept stealing glances at me, but I wasn't in the mood for conversation. She had known me long enough to figure that out for herself.

McAuley knew my name.

Worse than that, I was now a blip on McAuley's radar. It was hard to say which was spinning harder, my mind or my stomach.

'Tobey, you can't work for that man. You just can't.' Callie finally broke the silence between us. 'The Dowds run things around here. If they hear you're working for McAuley you won't be able to walk from your house to school without slipping.'

Slipping. The technical term for entering enemy territory. If I ever agreed to work for McAuley, it was only a matter of time before the Dowds got to hear about it, and then my house and my school and all the routes in between would mean I'd be slipping daily. That's what it was all about in Meadowview. The streets didn't belong to the government or the local authority; they'd been fought over between the Dowds and McAuley's mob. The Dowds ran practically every crooked operation on the east side of Meadowview. McAuley had carved out the west side for himself. He'd established his turf by speaking softly and ensuring that no one but himself and the few good men in his car knew where the bodies were buried. People who opposed him had the habit of 'disappearing' – including two of the Dowd family before an uneasy truce was brokered between them.

Now McAuley wanted me to work for him, even though he knew I lived on the Dowds' patch. And I didn't like what he said about asking my friend Dan for a reference. Surely Dan wasn't stupid enough to talk to McAuley about me? If McAuley didn't have any problem telling me that Dan worked for him, who else had he told? Dan only lived two streets away from me – in Dowd territory.

Damn!

How on earth was I going to extricate myself from this one? Dan might be one of my best mates, but he was stupid as a bag of rocks to get involved with McAuley. Now that I'd seen the man up close and personal, I'd have to try and persuade Dan to get out and stay out of McAuley's clutches. But most important of all, I had to make sure that McAuley kept his eyes off Callie.

Nothing bad was going to happen to Callie Rose.

Not on my watch.

Eight. Callie

Tobey remained taciturn all day. It wasn't like him at all. He laughed everything off, never took anything seriously. But not today. After break, we sat together for our double science lesson, but try as I might I couldn't get him to open up to me. After the umpteenth mumbled monosyllabic response, I conceded defeat. Tobey stood over me as I put my stuff in my locker before lunch. We walked into the food hall together, but we peeled off in different directions once we'd got our lunch. I sat with Sammi and some of my other friends. Tobey sat by himself, but not for long. Some of his mates joined him, but from what I could see he still wasn't saying much. Tobey was a strange one. He didn't have many close friends, but that seemed to be by choice rather than design. He chose his friends carefully, but once he was your friend, he was your friend for life. And the mates he had were fiercely loyal in return. And I'm one of them. Every time I looked up, I caught Tobey watching me. I smiled a couple of times, but he immediately looked away.

For heaven's sake! I wanted to invite Tobey out for a meal or something the following night, but it was hard when he would barely speak to me. I mean, I didn't need three guesses to figure it out why. He was worried about McAuley. And I couldn't say I blamed him. But why take it out on me?

McAuley was a lowlife, just like the Dowds. They climbed high up life's ladder by stockpiling the misery of others beneath them. Even the Liberation Militia were aware of their activities in Meadowview. At least, they were when I was a member. The Liberation Militia didn't bother with them over much. The L.M. considered themselves above that kind of petty wheeling and dealing. Drugs, prostitution, loan sharking, extortion – those kinds of criminal activities were left to the hag fishes, as McAuley, the Dowds and all other 'common' criminals were known within the L.M. – with the emphasis on common. The L.M. considered their cause more noble. They believed themselves to be freedom fighters. Their objective? Equal rights and equal justice for Noughts. And the means? By dispensing their own brand of justice to those they believed deserved it. And if you were innocent and got caught up, then tough luck. The world according to the L.M. The kidnap, torture and murder of the L.M.'s enemies was, in their eyes, honourable. If the government and the Cross-owned media didn't see it that way, if they chose to call the L.M. terrorists instead of freedom fighters, then so be it.

Date: 2015-12-18; view: 542