Double Cross (9 page)

'Callie, are you even listening to me?' Sammi asked.

Not as such, no.

'Of course I am. Every word.'

'Yeah, right. What did I just say then?'

'Bliss is going round telling everyone how she and
Lucas have a hot date this Saturday. He's taking her to the
cinema and for a meal and to a party afterwards and it's
going to be sooooooo divine.'

Sammi and I were the last ones to reach the athletics
track. And I for one was glad to get there. Sammi had
been going on about Lucas and Bliss for the last ten
minutes, and to be honest, her assumption that I had to be
upset was getting on my nerves. Mrs Halifax gave us a
look, then tapped meaningfully at her watch, but for once
she didn't have a go. The weather was over warm rather
than over hot, so at least it wouldn't be like trying to
exercise in an oven.

'Aren't you bothered?' Sammi whispered as we joined
in with everyone else's warm-up exercises.

'Why should I be?' I frowned. Arms outstretched, I tipped
over to one side then the other, stretching out my waist.
What a waste of time. Compared to the physical training
regimen the L.M. had put me through, this was a doddle.

'Well, you and Lucas used to be together.'

'With the emphasis on "used to be",' I pointed out.
'Lucas is free to go out with anyone he likes, though I pity
his taste.'

'So it's definitely you and Tobey now, huh?'

'We'll be working on stamina today, so everyone five
times around the track please,' Mrs Halifax called out.

Ignoring the groans coming from all directions, I immediately
took off at a steady pace with Sammi beside me. I'd
avoided her question rather nicely, I thought. Twenty
steps later and Sammi was puffing like a faulty car exhaust.

'You . . .' – puff – '. . . didn't . . . answer . . . my
question. Oh my God!' – wheeze – 'I'm dying!'

'Sammi, you need to exercise more and smoke less.' I
frowned at her. 'Those cigarettes will kill you.'

'Answer . . . my . . . question . . .'

'What was it again?'

Sammi glared at me.

I smiled at her. 'Well, your nosiness, Tobey and I are
just friends.'

'How boring,' said Sammi, disappointed.

Tell me about it!

'We shouldn't . . . have to run . . . in this heat . . .'
Sammi rasped. 'This is . . . just cruel . . . and unusual . . .
punishment.'

I took pity on her and eased my pace to a gentle jog, so
gentle I was practically walking.

'You and Tobey . . .' – huff – 'd'you wish . . .' – puff –
'. . . it was more?' Sammi asked.

I shrugged. Nana Meggie had a saying – if wishes were
horses, beggars would ride. I glanced at Sammi, trying
hard to keep my face neutral. I was running at about onetenth
of a kilometre an hour and Sammi was still having
trouble.

'Why don't you just . . . tell him that?' Sammi coughed.

'It's not that simple,' I sighed. 'Tobey needs to figure it
out for himself.'

'Oh, please. Callie, he's a guy. You'll have one foot in
the grave before he catches on,' Sammi scoffed, finally
getting her breath back.

'Then I'll wait.'

'You need to take him in hand, then take him to bed –
not necessarily in that order,' said Sammi, winking at me.

'I don't think so.'

'I thought you liked him.'

I shrugged. 'I do. I more than like him. But that would
be a bad idea.'

'Why?'

'If it doesn't work out, that's our friendship ruined. I don't
want to risk that,' I admitted. 'Besides, there's no rush.'

'Except that Misty is determined to set more than just
her eyes on Tobey,' said Sammi. 'So you'd better watch
her – and him.'

'If Tobey really wants a girl who doesn't know a proton
from a crouton, that's his business.'

'Wouldn't it bother you?'

Yes.

'No.'

'Misty says Tobey's one of the few boys in the school
who knows what he's doing.'

'And the way she puts it about, she would know,' I
replied with disdain.

This conversation was getting to me. I increased my
pace, hoping Sammi would get too puffed out to talk so
much.

'All I'm saying is' – wheeze – 'if you really like Tobey
you'd better let him know and soon' – cough – 'or he's
going to take what Misty keeps offering – if he hasn't
already.'

'I'm not going to have sex with Tobey or any other guy
just to keep him,' I argued. 'How pathetic is that. If that's
what it takes then he's not worth having in the first place.'

'If you . . . say so,' wheezed Sammi doubtfully.

'I don't just say so, I mean so.'

I broke into a sprint which Sammi tried to match. There
was no more talking as she tried to equal my pace. And she
did try. But she didn't succeed. I finished my five laps with
breath to spare. Sammi gave up after three, collapsed on the
ground, and even Mrs Halifax's threat of a demerit slip
couldn't shift her. By the time the lesson was over, I
seriously wondered if Sammi was going to have a heart
attack. We were back in the changing rooms getting dressed
– well, most of us were. Sammi was sitting down with her
head between her knees, dragging air into her burning
lungs. I tied my jumper around my waist, before getting my
bag out of my allocated PE locker. Glancing in the mirror,
I saw my hair was all over the place. I used my fingers to
unplait my ponytail, before digging out a comb. My hair
reached well past my shoulder blades. During the forthcoming
summer holidays I'd decided to get it cut short,
more for convenience than any other reason. Plus Sammi
reckoned short hair would suit the shape of my face.

'You should wear your hair loose more often,' Jennifer
Dyer, one of my Nought friends, told me. 'It really suits
you like that.'

'Thanks, but—'

'Nah, it looks much better plaited up,' Maxine, another
friend, interrupted. 'You look too much like a blank— I
mean, you look like a Nought with your hair loose.'

The changing room went quiet. Jennifer's face was
bright red. I turned to glare at Maxine. What a bitch!
'It's only hair, Maxine. And luckily for me I can wear it
any way I want to,' I told her, pulling my hair back into a
ponytail and re-plaiting it. I smiled at Jennifer. She
returned my smile, gave Maxine a filthy look and carried
on getting dressed. Maybe I'd put off cutting it for a while.
Then again, maybe I wouldn't.

Sammi began to straighten up. She looked almost
human again. 'Running is for horses, not people,' she
complained. 'And anyone with boobs bigger than a thirtytwo
A should be excused from anything more strenuous
than walking.'

I glanced down at my own boobs. According to
Sammi's rule, I wouldn't have had one bit of serious
exercise since I turned twelve.

'Callie, what's going to happen to the Isis Hotel
bombing investigation now?' Talia asked, changing the
subject.

My perplexed frown told her I didn't have a clue what
she was talking about.

Talia dug into her bag and pulled out her mobile phone.
A couple of screen taps later and one of the latest news
items of the day was displayed.

The Nought man caught up in the bomb blast
which killed Jasmine Hadley has finally been
identified as Robert Powers, who was a guest
at the Isis Hotel. With no known links to the
Liberation Militia, the authorities have
concluded that Robert Powers was unfortunate
enough to be in the wrong place at the
wrong time. Though flying glass and debris
caused a number of roadside injuries, the Isis
Hotel outrage claimed only two lives.

'So are the authorities no closer to finding out who
planted the bomb then?' asked Talia.

'How should I know?' I raised my gaze from her phone
to ask.

'There's no need to snap my head off. I was only
asking.' Talia frowned.

'Sorry, it's just . . . I'm sorry,' I blustered. 'I have to go
now.'

Snatching up my bag, I walked away from my friends
without a backward glance. I had to get out of there.
Right away from all of them. I needed to be alone. Behind
me, Sammi rounded on Talia.

'What the hell is wrong with you, Talia? Callie's grandmother
died in that blast. D'you really think she wants to
be reminded of that every two seconds?'

I didn't wait for Talia's answer. I ran as fast as my school
bag slamming against my back would allow.

Robert Powers?

Who on earth was Robert Powers?

I'd assumed that the Nought man killed with Nana
Jasmine was Uncle Jude. It had to be him. Did they find
papers or a passport relating to Robert Powers on Uncle
Jude's body? No, that couldn't be right. It would never
have taken so long to identify him if they'd found identification
papers. They must've had to reconstruct the
Nought victim's jaw and teeth, and after that it was a question
of finding the relevant dental records. And those
records had revealed the dead man to be someone called
Robert Powers. But Robert Powers and Jude McGregor
had to be one and the same person. They just had to be.
There was no other explanation.

Well, maybe just one . . .

What if it wasn't Uncle Jude who had died, but
someone else? Oh, my God . . . What if some innocent
man was in the wrong place at the wrong time and died
because of the bomb I made?

And what if Uncle Jude was still alive?

As soon as I got home from school, I fixed myself a quick
snack of scrambled eggs and beans on toast, then tried to
settle down to my homework. But chemistry just wasn't
lighting my fire the way it usually did. My head was too
crammed with other thoughts.

Money!

Damn it! I had none and there was no prospect of any
forthcoming.

Heathcroft School had provided me with a full scholarship,
but just living day to day cost money. I only ever
went on school day trips. My mum's pockets weren't deep
enough for fortnights away skiing or singing abroad with
the school choir. I'd even had to turn down the odd
birthday party invitation or two because I couldn't afford
to buy a decent birthday present. If only I could get the
image of Dan's watch out of my head. I wasn't jealous.
That wasn't it. I didn't want to own a watch like it or a
designer jacket or any of that other nonsense.

I just wanted my share.

I wanted the choices, the options that money would
give me.

My mobile phone roused me out of my mega-brood.
Who was phoning me? I wasn't in a particularly talkative
mood. But it was Dan. I took the call.

'Hi, Dan. You OK?'

'I'm fine,' Dan replied, 'but I need your help.'

'Help with what?' I frowned.

'I need to make some deliveries before eight tonight
and I won't be able to do them all by myself.'

'Dan, I've already told you I'm not working for
McAuley. And I don't appreciate you dropping my name
to him either.'

'I didn't drop your name.'

'McAuley cornered me on the street a couple of days
ago and he knew all about me.'

'Not from me, he didn't,' Dan denied.

Hmmm . . .

'Or at least . . .'

'Yes?'

'Well, I might've mentioned you in passing as a friend
of mine who's cat-clever, but that's all.'

'Dan, you arse. To someone like McAuley, that's
enough,' I said. 'So you can forget it. I'm not doing a
damned thing for that man.'

'You wouldn't be doing it for him. You'd be doing it
for me. You just need to drop off two packages for me
whilst I do the other three and—'

'Which part of "no" don't you understand? The N or
the O?'

'Tobey, it's just packages. You drop them off and
that's it.'

'Why can't you deliver them?'

'I told you. I have to be somewhere at eight o'clock and
I won't make it without your help.'

'What's in the packages?'

'I don't get told and I'm not stupid enough to ask,' Dan
replied. 'It's healthier that way.'

'No frickin' way, Dan. This conversation is over.' I was
about to hang up on him, but what he said next brought
the phone back to my ear.

'I'll pay you. I'll give you half of what I make tonight.'

Half my brain told me to hang up anyway. But the
other half turned my left hand into a magnet and wouldn't
let me put down my phone.

'How much are we talking about here?' I asked at last.

The figure Dan mentioned made me catch my breath.
No wonder Dan could afford designer threads and top-of-the-range
watches. It would take me six months at
my Saturday job to make the kind of money he was
talking about.

'Come on, Tobey. It's just two packages,' Dan cajoled.
He could sense that I was wavering.

Not wavering but drowning.

'Just two packages . . .'

I was on dangerous ground now. In my mind, two
deliveries was already turning into a few. If all I had to do
was deliver a few packages, then really, where was the
harm? In fact, if I delivered a limited number of Dan's
packages, think of the money I'd make. Enough to pay my
university fees. Enough to live off when I was studying.
Enough.

I liked the sound of that word. Enough.

I had to admit, the spectre of bank loans that I might
never be able to pay back and debts up to my eyebrows
didn't appeal massively. But there was no way I'd get to go
to university otherwise. Mum just didn't have the money.
And I needed to go to university like I needed to breathe.
For too many Noughts and for far too long, the door to
higher education had been locked, sealed and bolted. But
others had given up blood, sweat and rivers of tears to kick
that door open for me. How could I not walk though it?
Failure just wasn't an option.

And more immediately, with the currency Dan was
talking about I could buy a store-bought birthday card and
a proper present for Callie. She deserved so much more
than I could give her and she never once threw that fact
back in my face. I still had one last year at school, plus
university to get through before I could even hope to start
making serious money. So where was the harm?

I mean, how long before Callie got fed up with me
because I couldn't afford to take her anywhere or buy her
anything? How long before money came between us? I
hated money. The lack of bits of metal and paper was
ruling, not to mention ruining, my life. But this . . . Dan's
packages . . . Dan's world . . . this was something else again.

'It's just two packages?' I said, holding my phone like it
was the enemy.

'Yeah, just two. I'll give you the easiest two,' said Dan.

'Thanks, mate. I knew you wouldn't let me down.'

'You knew more than me then,' I said sourly. 'Where
are you and what time do we do this?'

'I'm outside your front door and how does now sound?'

Like the beginning of a long, slippery slope.

I sighed. 'I'll be right out.'

After a moment's thought, I took my lightweight
hooded jacket out of my wardrobe and headed downstairs.
'Mum, I'm going out for a while.'

'Have you finished your homework?' Mum emerged
from the sitting room to ask.

'Yeah. It's all done except chemistry and that doesn't
have to be handed in until next week.'

'Where're you going?'

'Just out with Dan.'

'Where to? Another football match?'

'No. Not today. We're just going to hang out for a
while. After all, it is Friday.'

'Tobey, I don't know about this . . .'

'We won't be long. A couple of hours at most,' I tried to
reassure her. 'We'll probably go for a meal or something.'

'What's Dan up to these days?' Mum asked.

'Same old, same old.'

'Is he still working for the postal service?' asked Mum.

'That's right,' I replied, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

'How come you hang around with Dan more than your
other friends from school?'

That wasn't true. That was just Mum's perception
'cause she wasn't keen on Dan.

'Dan's been my friend since infant school.' I shrugged.
'Just because he didn't get into Heathcroft doesn't mean
I'm going to drop him.' Besides, I didn't have to try to be
something I wasn't when I was with him. At least, that's
how I used to feel. I wasn't so sure any more. Now it felt
like I needed to work out who I was, rather than who I
wasn't. I wasn't the same Tobey I was six years ago. I'd
changed. Dan hadn't.

Mum scrutinized me. 'All right, then. I'll see you later.
Just . . . just keep your head down. OK? And if you see
any trouble . . .'

'Walk away.' I finished Mum's mantra. 'I'll do my best.'

'Better than your best, Tobey,' she retorted. 'I don't
want the police knocking on my door – for any reason.
Understand?'

I nodded and headed out the door before Mum could
say anything else.

Keep your head down
. . .

I'd bet my next ten Saturday job pay packets that Lucas
Cheshie was never told to keep his head down. I bet he
was always told to do the exact opposite.

Dan wasn't lying. He stood outside my front door,
bouncing impatiently from foot to foot. We immediately
headed off along the street.

'Thanks, mate,' said Dan.

I nodded, ignoring the gnawing in my gut that kept
telling me this was a
really
bad idea. Anything could
happen.

If I got caught . . .

But all that money . . .

'Dan, I'm just helping you out because I need the
money. OK? I don't intend for this to become a habit.'

Dan raised appeasing hands. 'Don't worry, blanker. I
know you're just helping out a mate.' He grinned at me.
'But I really wouldn't mind your help on a few other
deliveries I got lined up over the coming weeks. And at
least I know I can trust you. You'd get fifty per cent of
everything I make and that's more than I'd do for anyone
else. Can't say fairer than that.'

'No, Dan.'

'You say no, but your empty pockets say yes. And after
all, the desire for money is the most infectious disease on
the planet.'

'It's not a disease I intend to catch. I need some money
to tide me over and then that's it,' I told him.

'Whatever you say, Tobey.' The smug grin on his face
was very eloquent.

'This is just to buy a belated birthday present for Callie,'
I insisted. 'I'm not thinking beyond that at the moment.'

Dan smiled at me. We both knew that wasn't true.