eleven. Sephy
It was time for History. I hate History. It’s a total waste of time. There was only one good thing about it. Callum was down to take History as well. My friend Claire tried to sit next to me.
‘Er . . . Claire, could you sit somewhere else today. I’m saving this seat for someone.’
‘Who?’
‘Someone.’
Claire gave me a scathing look. ‘Be like that then.’ And she flounced off without a backwards glance. I sighed and watched the door eagerly. Callum and the other noughts were the last ones to come in. Others barged past them and Callum let them get away with it. I wouldn’t have.
I smiled at Callum and indicated the seat next to me. Callum looked at me, then looked away and sat next to another nought. Others in the class looked from me to him and back again. My face burned with humiliation. How could he show me up like that? How could he? I know what he’d said the previous evening, but I wanted to show him I didn’t care who knew we were friends. It didn’t bother me one little bit. So why would Callum turn his back on me like that?
Mr Jason entered the room and launched into the lesson before he’d even shut the door. And within the space of two minutes it was clear he was in a foul mood – even worse than usual. Nobody could do anything right, especially the noughts.
‘Who can tell me one of the significant events of the year 146 BC?’ Mr Jason asked tersely.
146 BC! I mean, who cared?!! I decided to wind down and sleep with my eyes open until the lesson was over. Callum bent down to get something out of his bag. From my position I couldn’t see what. CRACK! Mr Jason smacked a big heavy History textbook down on Callum’s desk.
‘What’s the matter, boy?’ Mr Jason asked. ‘Too poor to even pay attention?’
Callum didn’t answer. Some in the class tittered. A few didn’t. Mr Jason was being a real pig and when he walked past me, I glared at him to let him know exactly what I thought about the way he was carrying on. That put his back up as well. I got told off twice in less than thirty minutes. But I didn’t care. Mr Jason wasn’t important. I had other things on my mind – like how to prove to Callum that I really didn’t care if people knew he was my friend. In fact, I was proud of it. But how to do it…? And then it came to me! Eureka! The perfect solution. If only this lesson would hurry up and finish. All I could think about was lunch-time. I was desperate to be one of the first to get to the food hall. When at last the buzzer sounded, I was the first out of my chair. Trying to be the first out of the room, I barged past my teacher.
‘Er, d’you mind?’
‘Sorry, sir.’ I tried to carry on moving past him. Big mistake!
‘As you’re in such a tearing hurry you can wait until last to leave the classroom.’
‘But, sir…’
Mr Jason raised a warning hand. ‘Any arguments and you’ll be lucky to get lunch at all.’
I shut up. Mr Jason was a real, ill-tempered, ill-mannered slug. And he had to toil hard to work his way up to that. So I waited whilst everyone else grinned smugly at me as they strolled past. I was late getting to the food hall when today of all days I wanted to be one of the first. Callum and the other noughts already had their food and were sitting down by the time I walked through the food-hall doors. All the noughts were sitting at a table by themselves, just like yesterday.
I lined up in the food queue. I wasn’t going to do anything out of the ordinary, so why was my heart bumping in such a strange way? I collected my chicken and mushroom pie with the usual over-boiled trimmings, my jam tart with over-sweet custard and my carton of milk and, taking a deep breath, I headed for Callum’s table. Callum and the other noughts glanced up as I approached their table, only to look away again almost immediately.
‘D’you mind if I join you?’
They all looked so shocked, it wasn’t even funny. The other noughts continued to look stunned, but Callum’s expression turned. I sat down before he could say no and before I could bottle out.
‘What d’you think you’re doing?’ he snapped.
‘Eating my lunch,’ I replied before cutting into my pie. I tried to smile at the other three noughts but they instantly returned to eating their food.
‘Hi. I’m Sephy Hadley.’ I thrust my hand under the nose of the nought girl I was sitting next to. She had a dark brown plaster on her forehead which stuck out on her pale white skin like a throbbing thumb. ‘Welcome to Heathcroft.’
She looked at my hand like it was about to bite her. Wiping her own hand on her tunic, she then took mine and shook it slowly.
‘I’m Shania,’ she said softly.
‘That’s a pretty name. What does it mean?’ I asked.
Shania shrugged. ‘It doesn’t mean anything.’
‘My mother told me my name means “serene night”,’ I laughed. ‘But Callum will tell you I’m anything but serene!’
Shania smiled at me. It was tentative and brief but at least it was genuine – whilst it lasted.
‘How’s your head?’ I asked, pointing at the plaster.
‘It’s OK. It’ll take more than a stone step to dent my head.’
I smiled. ‘That plaster’s a bit noticeable.’
‘They don’t sell pink plasters. Only dark brown ones.’ Shania shrugged.
My eyes widened at that. I’d never really thought about it before, but she was right. I’d never seen any pink plasters. Plasters were the colour of us Crosses, not the noughts.
‘Sephy, just what d’you think
