four. Troy
* * *
Yeah, that wiped the smile off your face, Liberty Jackman!
Mrs Paxton has been hassling me since the beginning of term to run for head boy. During our last conversation on the subject, she said, ‘Head boy would suit you and your temperament, Troy. You could really shake things up in a constructive way. We should all strive to make a positive difference.’
Do me a favour. ‘No thanks, Mrs Paxton.’
The head wasn’t going to give up. ‘Just think about it. Promise me you’ll consider it?’
I smiled politely and nodded while thinking, I’d rather be kicked in the bollocks, thanks for asking!
To be honest, I suspect she was expecting me to run because of my family background. What? Did she think that with my sister Callie and what happened to her dad, Callum McGregor, I’d want to stand up for truth, justice and the Heathcroft High way? If so, then disappointment was coming at her, top speed. In fact, if that’s what she was expecting, then it’s kinda insulting. Not a fan of people assuming they know all about me. My family’s personal business is private and I’ve worked hard to keep it that way. Apart from Mrs Paxton, a couple of teachers who’d been at Heathcroft High forever and one other person at school, my family’s secrets are safe. I haven’t even told my best mates. In all my years at Heathcroft, no one has ever confronted me about Mum and Callum McGregor, and that’s the way I like it.
So, as far as I was concerned, the school election? Count me out. And it would’ve stayed that way if Libby had kept her mouth shut. She’s glowering at me. Is that supposed to make me back down? Apologize? Tremble? Do me a favour! God, but she really is pathetic. And to think that during our first year at school we were actually friends. Best friends.
Libby walks over to stand before me. I rise to my feet. Tense. Waiting. What’s she going to do?
‘You won’t win, Troy,’ Libby leans forward to whisper. For my ears only.
‘That’s OK with me,’ I reply, equally softly. ‘Just as long as you lose.’
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Nought footballer Dolph Lilac quits because of ‘racism’
Nought footballer Dolph Lilac called a press conference earlier today to announce his retirement from professional football. ‘I’m just sick and tired of it. Not the game but the so-called fans,’ said Dolph. ‘The verbal and physical abuse comes flooding at us Nought players in every game. Each time one of us Noughts gets the ball, the clicking noises and chants of “maggot” start and we have rotten meat flung at us by idiots in the crowd. Far from racism in football being eradicated, it seems to have actually got worse over the last few years and the AFC are doing nothing about it except spouting platitudes about how it’s a bad thing.’
Dolph Lilac went on to say, ‘Last week, after I scored the winning goal for my team, opposition fans invaded the pitch and I was actually in fear for my life. Enough is enough. After talking it over with my wife, I’ve decided to call it a day.’ The Albion Football Commission has since issued a statement in response: ‘Dolph Lilac is wrong to say we are doing nothing. We have called for an inquiry into last week’s pitch invasion and will be seeking a ban of at least two games for any season-ticket holder found guilty of threatening behaviour.’
NOW
* * *
five. Troy
* * *
How long have we been down in this basement? Over an hour? It feels like it. The air down here is thick, heavy, unpleasantly warm. Libby and I have been sitting on this crate, contemplating our fate, and the inactivity is getting to me. It’s taking everything I have and then some just to keep it together. I glance at Libby. Her expression might be carved from stone.
‘You OK, Libby?’ I ask softly.
‘No. Are you?’
A moment’s pause. ‘You’re right. It was a stupid-ass question.’
Libby smiles faintly.
We keep our voices low and quiet as we both watch the top of the stairs, straining to hear something. Anything.
Silence.
We exchange a look. I’m scared to shout and bang on the door and draw attention to us. I’m scared to stay still and quiet and hope they just forget about us. Basically, I’m scared shitless. Libby slips her hand into mine. I freeze. My first instinct is to pull away, but I don’t. Giving her hand what I hope is a reassuring squeeze, only then do I let it go.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ says Libby. ‘We haven’t seen our abductors’ faces. That’s good, right? A positive sign? That means they have no reason to … to kill us ’cause we can’t give their descriptions to the police. Right?’
The desperate hope in Libby’s voice … I can’t stamp on that.
So I nod and say, ‘Yes, but we should still try to figure out who took us and why.’
‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ Libby says softly.
‘So have I,’ I confess. ‘In my case, the line forms on the left.’
‘Why?’
Oh God! I really don’t want to say, but what choice do I have? This is not the time for hiding or dressing up the truth.
‘Because of my sister.’ It feels strange, almost traitorous to state it out loud, but having the words out rather than within has an unexpected effect. They settle me. I’m calmer.
Libby studies me then shakes her head. ‘You’re wrong. I have a line forming on the right.’
I frown, my question evident from the tracks furrowing between my eyebrows.
Libby answers my unspoken question. ‘I’m so sorry, Troy. It’s hard to say it but … I think we’re here because of my dad.’
THEN
* * *
six. Libby
* * *
As I walk along the corridor towards the library, I allow myself a slight smile. My campaign is going well. I’ve got my friends Raffy, Eden and Maisie lobbying on my behalf, talking me up and extolling my virtues. They’re the only real friends I have at this school. We’re four Nought girls who’ve come through school together. If it wasn’t for them on and at my side, I don’t know how I would’ve survived. Eden is already talking about all the things I can do when I’m head girl, like I’ve already won. According to her, I’m ahead in the straw poll they took last week when they went round all the upper-school classes asking everyone how they intended to vote. Since then Troy has joined the race. OK, so Troy is also gaining traction in the fight for votes, but I’ve made a point of going round to each classroom during the lunch hour and speaking for a few minutes about what I stand for and what I intend to do for each and every student. And I steer well clear of ‘us and them’ rhetoric. I’ve learned from my mistake in the common room. Luckily for me, memories are short. Well, not Troy’s – but I don’t want to think about that.