I took another step forward, my eyes still focused on the mirror across from the drawing room – which was my mistake. I tripped over the telephone cord making the phone drag slightly across the table. It wasn’t much of a noise. But it was enough. Dad looked around and saw me via the hall mirror just as I could see him. His guest turned around.
‘Sephy, go to bed – NOW.’
Dad didn’t even wait for me to leave before he slammed the drawing-room door shut. I’d barely gathered my scattered wits when the door opened again and Dad marched out alone, slamming the door shut behind him.
‘What did you see?’ he demanded as he strode over to me.
‘P-pardon?’
‘What did you see?’ Dad grasped my shoulders. A drop of spit came out of his mouth and landed on my cheek but I didn’t wipe it away.
‘N-nothing.’
‘What did you hear?’
‘Nothing, Dad. I just came down for a drink. I’m thirsty.’
Dad’s eyes blazed with rage as he scowled at me. He looked like he wanted to hit me.
‘I didn’t see or hear anything. Honest.’
Long moments passed before Dad’s grip on my shoulders slowly slackened off. His contorted face relaxed.
‘C-can I get my drink now?’
‘Go on then. Just hurry up.’
I walked off towards the kitchen even though I wasn’t thirsty any more. My heart was slamming against my ribs and my blood was roaring in my ears. I knew without turning around that Dad was still watching me. Once I reached the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of water and headed back up to my bedroom. I was out of Dad’s sight in the kitchen but I still went at a ‘normal’ pace, as if somehow he could see me through the walls. I left the kitchen and started to head upstairs, my glass of water in my hand.
‘Princess, wait . . .’ Dad called me back.
I turned my head.
‘I’m sorry I bit your head off.’ Dad forced a smile as he came up the stairs behind me. ‘I’ve been a bit . . . edgy all day.’
‘That’s OK,’ I whispered.
‘You’re still my princess, aren’t you?’ asked Dad, hugging me.
I nodded, trying to get past the lump in my throat. Trying not to spill my water.
‘Off you go to bed then.’
I carried on walking up the stairs, my pace carefully careless. And Dad stood in the hall, watching my every move.
four. Callum
I tipped everything out of my school bag and onto my bottom bunk-bed – for the umpteenth time. Ruler, pencil-case, pens, pencils, exercise book, calculator. I went through the list Heathcroft High had sent to my mum and dad. I had everything they’d specified and yet it still felt as if there was something missing, as if it wasn’t enough. I took the corner of my bed sheet and rubbed it over the calculator again. No amount of polishing would ever make this dinosaur calculator look brand new. I rubbed my hand over my tired eyes.
‘Don’t be so ungrateful. At least you’ve got a calculator.’ Just keep telling yourself that, Callum . . .
Slowly, carefully, I started packing all my school stuff back into my bag.
I’m lucky . . I’m lucky . . . I’m lucky . . . I’m going to school . . .
I played that one thought over and over again in my head, scared to let it go in case of what might happen. Someone knocked at my door. It was either Mum or Lynette. Jude didn’t knock, he just barged straight in and Dad never came into our room. If he wanted to talk to me, he always called me out on to the landing. I hoped it was Lynette.
Mum popped her head around the door. ‘Can I come in?’
I shrugged, placing my calculator on top of the other stuff in my bag. Mum came into the room, carefully shutting the door behind her. I could guess what was about to come next. She sat on my bed, picked up my school bag and immediately emptied everything out. Very carefully, Mum started packing all my stuff back. Moments passed before she spoke. ‘I just wanted to say that whatever happens tomorrow, well done for getting into Heathcroft High.’
That I hadn’t expected. I stared at her.
‘What d’you mean, whatever happens tomorrow?’
‘Nothing.’ Mum’s smile wobbled before disappearing altogether. ‘It’s just that . . . that I want you to be happy.’
‘I am happy.’ I frowned.
‘I don’t want to see you . . . upset. I don’t want you to get hurt.’
What on earth was she talking about? ‘Mum, I’m only going to school. I’m not going into the army!’
Mum’s attempt at a smile was back. ‘I know. But I think you and your father are underestimating how much of a . . . challenge it’s going to be. I don’t want to see you upset. Besides which . . . well, we’ve heard some rumours . . .’
‘What kind of rumours?’
‘Some of the Crosses aren’t happy about noughts going to their schools. We’ve heard rumours that some of them are determined to cause trouble. So, no matter what happens, don’t let yourself be provoked into lashing out. Don’t give them a reason to kick you out.’
‘Is that what you’ve been worrying about?’
Mum didn’t reply.
‘Don’t worry,’ I told her. ‘I’ve got into Heathcroft now and nothing, not even dynamite, is going to get me out again.’
‘Good for you.’ Mum stroked my cheek. I brushed her hand away. I mean, please!
‘Too old for that?’ Mum teased.
‘Much too old,’ I replied.
‘Too old for a kiss goodnight?’
I was just about to give Mum my honest opinion
