‘How come the only time you move faster than greased lightning is when food is involved?’ Mum said, her lips twitching somewhere between disgust and amusement.
‘It’s called incentive, Mum,’ Jude grinned.
Amusement won. Mum started to laugh. ‘I’ll give you incentive, my lad!’
And for once I was grateful to Jude for drawing attention away from what I’d been doing all afternoon. I glanced around the table. Already Lynette was turning away, her head bowed as always, her attention on her lap – as always.
‘Hi, Lynny . . .’ I spoke softly to my big sister. She looked up and gave me the briefest of smiles before returning her gaze to her lap.
My sister looks like me – the same brown hair, eyes the same shade of grey. Jude’s got black hair and brown eyes and looks like Mum. Lynny and I don’t look like Mum or Dad particularly. Maybe that’s part of the reason why we’ve always been close. Closer than Jude and I. She was the one who looked after me when Mum had to work and couldn’t take me with her. But now she can’t even look after herself. She’s a bit simple. She looks her age, twenty, but her mind is outside time. She’s away with the fairies as my grandma used to say. She wasn’t always that way. Three years ago something happened which changed her. An accident. And just like that the sister I knew was gone. Now she doesn’t go out, doesn’t talk much, doesn’t think much as far as I can tell. She just is. She stays lost in the middle of her own world somewhere. We can’t get in and she doesn’t come out. Not often anyway, and certainly not for any length of time. But her mind takes her to somewhere kind, I think, to judge by the peaceful, serene look on her face most of the time. Sometimes I wondered if it was worth losing your marbles to find that kind of peace. Sometimes I envied her.
‘So where have you been all this time?’ Mum resumed her previous conversation.
And I’d thought I’d got away with it. I should’ve guessed that Mum wouldn’t let the matter rest. Once she gets a bee in her knickers . . .
‘Just walking, I told you.’
‘Hhmmm . . .’ Mum’s eyes narrowed but she turned around and headed back to the cooker for the mince. I breathed an outward sigh of relief. Mum was obviously tired because for once she’d chosen to believe me.
Lynette gave me one of her secret smiles. She turned to spoon pasta onto her plate as Mum returned with the pan of mince.
‘Ready for school tomorrow, Callum?’ Dad said warmly, seemingly oblivious to the instant tension rising up around the table like razor wire.
‘Ready as I’ll ever be, Dad,’ I muttered, pouring myself a glass of milk from the dinner jug so that I wouldn’t have to look at anyone.
‘It’ll be tough, son, but at least it’s a start. My son is going to Heathcroft High School. Imagine that!’ Dad took a deep breath, his chest actually puffing up with pride as he smiled at me.
‘I still think he’s making a big mistake . . .’ Mum sniffed.
‘Well, I don’t.’ Dad’s smile vanished as he turned to Mum.
‘He doesn’t need to go to their schools. We noughts should have our own schools with the same opportunities that the Crosses enjoy,’ Mum retorted. ‘We don’t need to mix with them.’
‘What’s wrong with mixing?’ I asked, surprised.
‘It doesn’t work,’ Mum replied at once. ‘As long as the schools are run by Crosses, we’ll always be treated as second-class, second-best nothings. We should look after and educate our own, not wait for the Crosses to do it for us.’
‘You never used to believe that,’ said Dad.
‘I’m not as naïve as I used to be – if that’s what you mean,’ Mum replied.
I opened my mouth to speak but the words wouldn’t come. They were just a jumble in my head. If a Cross had said that to me, I’d be accusing them of all sorts. It seemed to me we’d practised segregation for centuries now and that hadn’t worked either. What would satisfy all the noughts and the Crosses who felt the same as Mum? Separate countries? Separate planets? How far away was far enough? What was it about the differences in others that scared some people so much?
‘Meggie, if our boy is going to get anywhere in this life, he has to go to their schools and learn to play the game by their rules. He just has to be better at it, that’s all.’
‘That’s all?’
‘Don’t you want something more for your son than we ever had?’ Dad asked, annoyed.
‘How can you ask me that? If you think . . .’
‘I’m sure everything will be fine, Mum. Don’t worry,’ I interrupted.
Mum clamped her lips together, her expression thunderous. She stood up and went over to the fridge. I could tell from the way she took out the water bottle and slammed the fridge door shut that she wasn’t happy. My going to school was the only thing I’d ever heard my parents argue about. Mum twisted the top off the bottle and tipped it so that it was directly over the yellow painted pottery jug she’d made a few weeks back. Water gushed out, rising up in the jug to slosh over the sides and down onto the work surface, but she didn’t alter the angle of the bottle.
‘You’ll soon think you’re too good for us.’ Jude punched me on the arm for good measure. ‘Just don’t go getting too big for your boots!’
‘Of course he won’t. And you’ll be on your best behaviour at Heathcroft, won’t you?’ Dad beamed. ‘You’ll be representing all of us noughts at the school.’
Why did I have to represent all noughts? Why couldn’t I just represent myself?
‘You must show them they’re wrong about us. Show them we’re just as good as they
