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

coming. He’s not going to come. He’s . . .

‘Persephone, move it!’ Mother snapped. ‘D’you want to go to Chivers or not?’

‘I’m coming,’ I called out. I took one more look around, searching the grounds, the path, towards the gate.

Nothing.

He wasn’t going to come. The desire to cry came and died. Dry-eyed I moved towards the car. Karl, the chauffeur, stood by the passenger door, holding it open for me.

‘Sephy!’

I turned as Minnie came hurtling out of the door. She stopped right in front of me.

‘Enjoy yourself at Chivers,’ she said at last.

‘I wish you could come with me,’ I told her.

‘Do you?’

I nodded.

‘Well, Mother can’t do without both of us and as I’m the oldest and my exams are only just around the corner, and going to a new school would be too disruptive, so I might as well stay here . . .’

Mother’s arguments, not Minnie’s.

‘I’m sorry, Minerva.’

Minnie shrugged. ‘Yeah, so am I.’

‘Couldn’t you have another word with Mother? Maybe she’ll . .?’

‘It wouldn’t do any good,’ Minnie interrupted. ‘She’s determined that I should stay.’

‘You worry too much about pleasing everyone,’ I told her.

‘Unlike you. You couldn’t give two hoots for anyone else’s opinion,’ Minnie smiled.

If only that was true. I sometimes acted first and thought about it afterwards but I did care what other people thought. That was the trouble.

‘Don’t . . . don’t get too . . . like Mother – OK?’ I said.

‘I’ll do my best.’ Minnie winked conspiratorially. ‘And you lay off the booze. Agreed?’

‘I’ll try,’ I told her.

‘I thought you stopped for a while?’

‘I did.’

‘What made you stop?’

I shrugged. How to answer that? Feeling wanted. Being cuddled. Not feeling sorry for myself any more. Any number of answers. Lots of reasons.

‘Well, what made you start again?’

I shrugged again. Being lonely. Missing him. The absence of hope until I’d written my letter.

‘Sephy, you’re not Mother. Stop trying to be,’ Minnie said.

I started at Minnie’s words, staring at her. Is that what I was doing?

‘Sephy, please come on,’ Mother called out from behind us.

‘Bye then.’ Minnie bent forward awkwardly and kissed me on the cheek. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that. I couldn’t remember the first time come to that! I headed for the car, still looking around.

He wasn’t coming.

Wave goodbye to Dreamland, Sephy. I sat down next to Mother.

‘At last!’ she said, annoyed.

Oh Callum . . . Why didn’t you come? Didn’t you believe me? Or maybe you didn’t believe in me? Or maybe you were the one who had to have sense enough for both of us. Or maybe you were just scared enough for both of us.

Karl walked around the car to the driver’s seat – and we were off.

Callum, why didn’t you come?

eighty-eight. Callum

Faster. Move. I have to do it. I just have to. Wait. Please wait.

I race like the wind towards Sephy’s house. Faster than I’ve ever run before. As fast as if my life depends on it.

Please God, if you’re really up there . . .

I clamber up the rise to the rose garden, just in time to see a car turn out of the security gates. Sephy is in the back, next to her mum. But she’s looking down, not at me, not anywhere near me.

Please God . . .

‘WAIT! SEPHY, IT’S ME. WAIT!’

Run. Move. I sprint after the car. I stop breathing so drawing breath won’t slow me down. Run. Race. Sprint.

‘SEPHY . . .’

The car is several metres ahead of me now. The driver’s eyes meet mine in the driver’s mirror. Sephy’s Mercedes accelerates smoothly but noticeably away from me.

‘SEPHY . . .’ I speed after the car. My lungs are about to implode and every muscle, every bone in my body is on fire. But I’ll follow that car to hell and back, if I have to. If I can.

Please, please God . . .

I trip over my feet and hit the ground face first. Dazed, I look up, but the car is almost out of sight. I grip Sephy’s letter in my hand, lying on the ground, listening to the sound of all my hopes and dreams moving further and further away. Like listening to the sound of a door being slammed in my face.

THE HOSTAGE . . .

eighty-nine. Sephy

Funny the way things work out. When I first arrived at Chivers, I thought I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. I’d cry myself to sleep over what had been and what might’ve been, over Callum not wanting to leave with me, live with me. He didn’t even bother to say goodbye. It took a long time to stop crying.

And shaking.

I didn’t really believe I was drinking that much and I certainly wasn’t an alcoholic, but after the second day of feeling wretched and wrung out, I finally realized I was suffering from alcohol withdrawal pains. The school nurse reckoned I had the flu and was very sympathetic, but I knew differently. It took three weeks before I could call my body my own again – and even then, I had to fight hard against the sudden cravings I got for a glass or two or three of wine or cider. So I buried myself in schoolwork and activities, the more physical the better. And it had slowly but surely begun to pay off.

Chivers is definitely the best move I could’ve made – under the circumstances. It gave me a chance to remake myself, start from scratch. I stopped hanging on to my childhood and started moving forward. I made new friends like Jacquelina and Robyn, who saved my sanity because they liked me for who I was, not for what my father did, or the money my mother had.

The schoolwork was harder than it’d been at Heathcroft, because at Chivers no-one pushed me, so I had to push myself. And I was terribly homesick for the first few months. I still