Noughts and Crosses, Malorie Blackman [types of ebook readers .txt] 📗

well have been sitting on the moon.

‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’ At first I thought he wasn’t going to answer.

‘What would you like me to say?’

‘I said I’m sorry,’ I tried again.

‘I know.’

I watched Callum’s profile – unreadable and implacable. And it was my fault. I understood that much, even if I didn’t quite understand what I’d done.

‘It’s just a word, Callum.’

‘Just a word . . .’ Callum repeated slowly.

‘Sticks and stones, Callum. It’s one word, that’s all,’ I pleaded.

‘Sephy, if you’d slapped me or punched me or even stabbed me, sooner or later it would’ve stopped hurting. Sooner or later. But I’ll never forget what you called me, Sephy. Never. Not if I live to be five hundred.’

I wiped my cheeks but the tears still came. ‘I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean you. I was . . . I was trying to help.’

Callum looked at me then and the expression on his face made my tears flow faster. ‘Sephy . . .’

‘Please. I’m so sorry.’ I dreaded to hear what he was going to say next.

‘Sephy, maybe we shouldn’t see so much of each other any more . . .’

‘Callum, no. I said I was sorry.’

‘And that makes everything all right, does it?’

‘No, it doesn’t. Not even close. But don’t do this. You’re my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

Callum turned away. I held my breath.

‘You must promise me something,’ he said softly.

‘Anything.’

‘You must promise me that you’ll never ever use that word again.’

Why couldn’t he understand that I hadn’t been talking about him? It was just a word. A word Dad had used. But it was a word that had hurt my best friend. A word that was now hurting me so very, very much. I hadn’t fully realized just how powerful words could be before this. Whoever came up with the saying ‘sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me’ was talking out of his or her armpit.

‘Promise me,’ Callum insisted.

‘I promise.’

We both turned to look out across the sea then. I knew I should go home. I was so late for dinner it was almost breakfast-time. Mother would go ballistic. But I wasn’t going to leave first. I didn’t want to get up. So I didn’t. I shivered, even though the evening wasn’t cold.

Callum took off his jacket and put it around my shoulders. It smelt of soap, and chips – and him. I hugged it tighter around me.

‘What about you?’ I asked.

‘What about me?’ he replied.

‘Aren’t you going to get cold?’

‘I’ll survive.’

I moved in closer and put my head on his shoulder. His body stiffened and for a moment I thought he was going to move away, but then he relaxed and though he didn’t hug me the way he usually did, he didn’t shrug me off either. One word . . . one word had caused all this trouble between us. If I lived to be five million, I would never, ever say that horrible word again. Ever. The sun was beginning to set now, burning the sky pink and orange. We sat and watched in silence.

‘I’ve been thinking it over and . . . well, we can still be together outside school but I don’t think you should talk to me when we’re in school,’ Callum said.

I was more than stunned. ‘Why on earth not?’

‘I don’t want you to lose any of your friends because of me. I know how much they mean to you.’

‘You’re my friend too.’

‘Not when we’re both at school I’m not,’ Callum told me.

‘But that’s just silly.’

‘Is it?’

My mouth opened and closed like a drowning fish, but what could I say? Callum stood up.

‘I have to go home now. You coming?’

I shook my head.

‘Your mum will hit the roof and then the nearest orbiting satellite!’

‘It’s Monday. She’s visiting friends,’ I told him.

‘What about your dad?’

‘You know he’s never home during the week. He’s at our town house.’

‘And Minerva?’

‘I don’t know. Probably with her boyfriend. Don’t worry about me, Callum. I’ll stay here for a little while longer.’

‘Not for too long, OK?’

‘OK.’ I handed back his jacket.

Almost reluctantly, he took it. Then he walked away. I watched, willing him to turn around, to turn back. But he didn’t. It was as if I was outside myself, watching the two of us. More and more I was beginning to feel like a spectator in my own life. I had to make a choice. I had to decide what kind of friend Callum was going to be to me. But what surprised – and upset me – was that I even had to think about it.

eight. Callum

‘D’you know what time it is?’ Mum ranted the moment I set foot through the door. She and I rarely had any other conversation.

‘Sorry,’ I mumbled.

‘Your dinner’s in the oven – dried out and not fit for eating by now.’

‘It’ll be fine, Mum.’

‘So where have you been until ten o’clock at night?’ Dad surprised me by asking. He didn’t usually nag me about coming home late. That was Mum’s department.

‘Well?’ he prompted when I didn’t answer.

What did he want me to say? ‘Well, I said goodbye to Sephy at the beach almost two hours ago, but then I hid in the shadows and followed her home to make sure she got back OK. Then it took me over an hour to walk home.’ Yeah, right! That little snippet of truth would go down like a lead balloon.

‘I was just out walking. I had a lot to think about.’ And that part at least was the truth.

‘Are you OK, son?’ Dad asked. ‘I went down to Heathcroft as soon as I heard what was going on, but the police wouldn’t let me in.’

‘Why not?’

‘I had no official business on the premises – unquote.’ Dad couldn’t mask the bitterness in his voice.

‘Those rotten, stinking . . .’

‘Jude, not at the dinner table please,’ Mum admonished.

Glancing at Jude, I saw he had