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Authors: Malorie Blackman

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BOOK: Double Cross
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eighteen. Callie

It was hard to say who was more shocked, me or Tobey.
I never – and I mean
never
cried, at least not in front of
other people. But the moment I saw Tobey, the tears just
spilled out of me. After staring at me, Tobey took me by
the hand and practically pulled me into his house before
kicking the door shut.

'What is it? What's happened?' he asked urgently.

I shook my head, desperately trying to stem my tears. I
lowered my gaze. I didn't want Tobey to see into my eyes.
He'd seen far too much already. It wasn't fair to expect him
to fill all the frightened, empty spaces inside me, and if he
knew what was happening, he'd surely try. And probably
fail. But try nonetheless. Uncle Jude said tears were a
luxury of the weak. I couldn't afford to be weak, not now.
But I felt like a dead girl walking and that was the truth.

Tobey pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me.
He didn't say anything, for which I was grateful. He just let
me get all the tears out of my system. When I finally pulled
away, I was deeply embarrassed and Tobey's shirt was so wet
it was practically transparent. Hesitantly, I looked around.

'Jessica's out. So is my mum,' Tobey told me.

I exhaled with relief, then tried to pull myself together,
without much success.

'Callie, talk to me. What's wrong?' Tobey asked.

I shook my head, not yet trusting myself to speak. Tobey
took my hand and led me into his kitchen. He made me a
cup of coffee, ladling in three sugars even though I never
have sugar in my coffee. He pushed the hot mug into my
hands, ignoring me when I shook my head.

'Drink it,' he ordered. 'You look like you need it.'

Tentatively, I took a sip, but it burned my top lip. Fresh
tears filled my eyes. Not because of the coffee – it wasn't
that. But now that I'd started crying, I couldn't seem to stop.

'D'you want to talk?' Tobey asked.

I nodded.

'Come on then.' And Tobey led the way upstairs to his
bedroom.

nineteen. Tobey

Callie sat on my bed, her fingers lightly tracing the
lightning-fork pattern on my dark-blue duvet cover.
Her lips were a straight line across her face, her forehead
was furrowed. She picked up her coffee from my bedside
table and forced herself to drink some more. Her now
hazel-coloured eyes were staring straight through my
floorboards, through the foundations of the house and
down into the planet's core. I opened my mouth to offer
her pocket change for her thoughts, then decided against
it. I didn't need to be psychic or even terribly astute to
know who was on her mind. Nana Jasmine.

How long before the memory of her nana stopped
slashing at her? How long before the thought of Nana
Jasmine brought a smile to her eyes instead of turning them
a shimmering hazel? No one deserved to die the way
Jasmine Hadley did. But Callie wore the memory of her
death like a hair shirt. It was an accident. Why couldn't she
see that? I sighed inwardly, wishing there was some way to
lessen the hurt Callie was feeling. After all, we might be
something less than lovers, but at least we were something
more than friends. And I hated to see Callie this way.

But then there were my own troubles. With each second
I expected the police to start hammering at my door. How
stupid could one person get? A world of trouble was about
to descend on my head and I had no one to blame but
myself. And Dan. But mainly myself. I wondered about
Ross Resnick, if indeed it had been his finger in that parcel.
Where was he? Was he alive or dead? No doubt Louise
Resnick's present had been courtesy of Creepy McAuley.
The Dowds and McAuley's lot had been trying to wipe
each other out for years and the police seemed to be no
closer to putting a stop to it. McAuley or the odd Dowd or
two occasionally made it to court, but that's as far as it ever
went. Witnesses against any of them invariably developed
the strangest forms of selective amnesia, or else they just
disappeared like a magician's trick. In spite of my best
efforts, I was now knee-deep in something I'd fought long
and hard to avoid. And if Mum found out . . .

'Tobey, are you OK?'

I sat down beside Callie. ''Course. But you're not, are you?'

Callie looked at me, her eyes momentarily unfocused.
A smile, fake as silicon boobs, tugged her mouth upwards.

'I'm fine now.'

'Liar,' I suggested.

A hint of a genuine smile appeared. 'What makes you
think something's wrong, apart from my tears showering
you earlier?'

I bit back a smile. 'Hard as it is to read your poker face,
I can see something's gnawing at you.'

Even without the tears, Callie seriously believed that she
could suppress her every thought and feeling, that her face
was like one of those classical masks. I didn't bother pointing
out the obvious. We sat in silence. A couple of times, Callie
opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.

'Callie, what happened to your nana Jasmine was a
tragic accident,' I ventured at last.

'You think so?' Callie whispered. She looked up at me
with the saddest eyes I've ever seen.

'I know so,' I replied. 'She just had the misfortune to be
in the wrong place at the wrong time.'

Callie's gaze skittered away from mine. 'I guess.'

'Callie?' There was something else going on here. I
frowned. 'What aren't you telling me?'

Callie looked me in the eye, her watchful gaze never
wavering. 'Tobey, d'you remember that morning we spent
together on Nana Jasmine's beach, the day of the explosion
at the Isis Hotel?'

Callie's birthday and the day Callie's nan died. I
nodded. Of course I remembered.

'I wanted to stay on that beach with you for ever.
Especially when you kissed me. I was scared to leave you.'

'Why did you then?' I asked.

Callie could no longer look at me. Her gaze bounced off
my rug, my painted walls, the navy-blue curtains, anywhere
but me. 'D'you remember I had a carrier bag that day?' Her
voice was so quiet, I had to move closer to hear her.

I frowned. 'Vaguely.'

Silence.

'Callie . . .'

'The carrier bag had a bomb in it. The same bomb that
killed Nana Jasmine.'

I stared at her. Whatever else I'd been expecting, it sure
as hell wasn't that.

'Are you sure?' I regretted the inane words the moment
they left my mouth. 'I mean, where did you get it from?'

'I made it. Uncle Jude taught me how and he gave me
everything I needed to make it.' Callie's fingers twisted
relentlessly in her lap. Head bowed, I watched as a tear
dropped onto the back of her hand, quickly followed by
another, and another.

Jude McGregor . . . The Jude McGregors of this world
swept through life, spreading poison like weedkiller over
every person who crossed their path. I placed a hand under
Callie's chin, turning her face towards my own. 'Who was
the target?'

'Grandpa Kamal,' Callie said at last.

I inhaled sharply. 'How did your nana . . . ?' There was
no good end to that sentence, so I left it trailing.

'Somehow Nana Jasmine guessed what I was going to
do. She took the bomb and went to Jude's hotel to
confront him with it. They both died and it was all my
fault. But now . . .'

Silence.

'Yes?'

'The Nought killed in the explosion has been identified as
some man called Robert Powers. Uncle Jude wasn't killed at
all. Tobey, I killed . . . I murdered an innocent man.'

I shook my head, still trying to take it all in. 'Callie, it
was an accident.'

'Robert Powers is dead because of me. I'm responsible.
And Uncle Jude is still out there . . . He's going to come
after me. I just know it.'

I stared at her. 'You haven't heard anything from him
since the bomb went off, have you?'

Callie shook her head.

'Suppose, just suppose you're right and it wasn't your
uncle who was killed,' I said carefully. 'If you haven't
heard from him by now, there's no reason to think he'll
come after you.'

Callie sighed. 'Tobey, you don't know him. He won't
stop until he's had his revenge. Look at the way he waited
years before using me to get back at my mum.'

'He won't get to you, Callie, because I won't let him,'
I told her.

Callie smiled faintly, but said nothing. I knew what she
was thinking. Much as she might appreciate the sentiment
behind my words, she didn't think I'd stand much of a
chance against the likes of Jude McGregor.

'Tobey, I think . . . I'm dying inside – all over again.
And I can't bear it.'

'I'm here and I won't let that happen,' I told her, my
arm slipping round her shoulders. 'Callie, you're not
alone, I promise.'

'That's not how it feels, in here.' Callie's finger tapped
repeatedly at the place over her heart.

'Callie, don't . . .'

'What, Tobey? Don't what? "Don't say that"? "Don't
feel that way"? What useless advice d'you have for me?'
Callie glared at me, but I wasn't about to spout platitudes –
that was my sister's speciality, not mine. I knew better.

'I'm on your side, babe,' I said softly. 'You know that.'

Callie expression slowly softened. 'I'm sorry.'

She smoothed back her long curly hair with both hands.
I watched her lick her lips before she turned back to me.
Moments passed as I tried my best to put into words how
I felt.

'You're not the only one . . . hurting, Callie,' I said at last.

Callie regarded me, taken aback. I met her gaze
unflinchingly. I didn't try to hide anything.

'What's wrong, Tobey?' she asked.

'I . . . I got stopped earlier today on Chancellor Street.
Two Noughts in a car . . .'

At once Callie's expression was all concern. I didn't
need to say any more. She didn't need to hear any more.
She understood.

'Are you all right?'

'I'm still standing,' I said, my pathetic attempt at a joke.

'What did they want?'

'The usual. Wanted to know what side of Meadowview
was my spiritual home.'

'And you said?'

'"I don't live here. I'm just visiting a friend" – unquote.'

'What did they do?' asked Callie, her unease growing
rather than lessening.

'Drove off. They lost interest.'

'What on earth were you doing round the Chancellor
Estate?'

'I had to see someone,' I said reluctantly.

'Tobey, are you sure you're OK?'

'They didn't touch me,' I replied, adding to make a
joke of it, 'I'll strip down to my hair follicles and you can
check me over very slowly if you like – just to confirm it.'

Callie raised an eyebrow. 'Thanks, but I'll take your
word for it.'

We sat still. Silent seconds were batted back and forth
between us.

What does it mean when you can't even admit you live
in a certain place any more in case you're caught slipping?

'Something is very wrong when your postcode could be
the signature on your death warrant,' I said.

'You did the right thing—'

'The cowardly thing,' I interrupted.

'The
right
thing,' Callie insisted. 'Whatever it takes to
survive, Tobey. You know that. And better a lie than a
knife in the gut for being in the wrong place at the wrong
time. You can't afford to be stupid – none of us can.'

'I just wish . . .' I began. I didn't finish the rest. It was
pointless. Wishes didn't come true, not around
Meadowview.

'So do I.' Callie knew what I was trying to say without
me having to say it. She shook her head. 'Every time
there's a fatal stabbing or shooting and it's Noughts
involved, it's in the paper for a day, if that, and the
politicians say it's tragic and then it's "as you were,
everyone". And the rest of the country breathes a huge
sigh of relief that it didn't happen in their back yard.'

Things had changed since my mum's day. Schools could
no longer openly discriminate against us Noughts and
everyone had to stay in school until they were at least
sixteen – Nought or Cross. OK, so the Equal Rights
bill currently wending its way through Parliament
wouldn't change all attitudes overnight – especially in
the blinkered wrinklies over thirty. But it was a start, a
step. It's just . . . it was so hard to be patient when patience
was taken as a sign of weakness or, worse still, a sign of
acquiescence in the status quo. Dan, Alex McAuley,
the Liberation Militia and even I had grown sick and tired
of being patient. We all wanted our share and we wanted
it now. And if we didn't get it, if it was denied us, well,
why wait? Just take. The trouble was, everyone was
taking. Nought, Cross, it made no difference. When
you got right down to it, it was all about territory,
for everyone on the planet. If countries could fight over
it, then why not individuals? What's mine is mine,
what's yours is mine. All together now. Everybody sing.

I thought of Dan and his box of knives and his
protestations that the streets weren't safe. There was a lot
of that kind of thinking going on. That kind of thinking
had turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy.

'It's not right,' Callie said, sparks in her eyes. 'Those
guys in the car and the others like them, they're all hag
fishes. Uncle Jude was right about that if nothing else.'

We both sat in brooding silence.

'Callie, that's not the only thing that happened today,' I
admitted.

'What else?' Callie frowned.

'I did something incredibly stupid and I have a feeling
it's going to come back to haunt me.'

'What did you do?'

I opened my mouth to tell her, then thought better of
it. I'd got into the middle of something and now I was up
to my armpits in alligators. Did I really want to drag Callie
into my mess?

'I'd better not say,' I replied, turning away from her.

Now it was Callie's turn to place her hand on my
chin and turn my face back towards her own. 'Was it
something really bad?'

I nodded. We regarded each other.

'So one way or another we're in the same boat?' asked
Callie.

I nodded again.

'What do we do about it?'

I thought about all the things I could say, but none
of them seemed even remotely adequate. She looked
at me. I looked at her. Neither of us said a word. We
spontaneously leaned towards each other. And I kissed
her. Just my lips against hers to begin with. And though
she was surprised, she didn't pull away. Her hands crept up
my arms to hold my shoulders. That was all I needed, to
wrap my arms around her. I opened my mouth, my
tongue darting out to touch her bottom lip. Callie opened
her mouth immediately. My tongue slipped inside. Maybe
I should've licked or nibbled her lips first. But my tongue
had other ideas. And to my surprise, Callie kissed me just
as intently and as intensely as I kissed her. It was just meant
to be friendly kissing, two friends comfort kissing
because in that moment we both desperately needed to
touch and be touched. We both needed to know that
for just a few moments life wasn't a journey that had to
be travelled alone. But with each second it became something
more.

BOOK: Double Cross
5.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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