Lifted

by Hilary Freeman

  ‘Right, er, thank you, Joe,’ said the presenter, abruptly ending the call.

  Moron, thought James Collins.

  ‘Time for another caller. We’ve got Hazel from Kent on the line. Hazel, what do you think of Robyn Hood?’

  ‘Shocking,’ said Hazel. ‘In my day, teenagers didn’t do things like that. They had respect. It wouldn’t happen if they brought back National Service.’

  James sighed, reached over to his radio tuner and found a music station instead. He put his foot on the accelerator and didn’t give the mystery blogger another thought all the way to Manchester.

  As for Ruby, while her exploits were being discussed and her character dissected across the airwaves, she was at school, daydreaming about Noah. Every time she tried to make herself concentrate on what the teacher was saying, or attempted to read a paragraph of her history textbook, an image of his face would leap into her head, and she wouldn’t be able to stop herself thinking about him. It was one of the weirdest feelings she’d ever experienced. Two weeks earlier, she would have sworn she wouldn’t fancy Noah if he were the last guy on earth. Now, she couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else, least of all Ross. She decided that kissing somebody for hours must produce some kind of chemical reaction which messes with your brain. Like a natural love potion. Why else would she have butterflies every time she thought of Noah? Why else would she be longing to kiss him again? She kept stealing glances at him across the corridor or in the playground, when she hoped he wasn’t looking. Objectively, he was still far too lanky, with bad hair and rubbish clothes, but he had such lovely eyes, especially when he smiled, and such gorgeous thick lashes. She could gaze at them for hours. How could she not have noticed that before? How could her friends not have noticed it either?

  At lunchtime, she, Amanda and Hanni sneaked out to Burger King. Only sixth formers were officially allowed off the school premises during school hours, but it was rare that anybody noticed, as long as you were back at class after lunch and didn’t cause any trouble in the local shops. Ruby didn’t feel very hungry, so she ordered a portion of fries and picked at them, while the others scoffed burgers.

  ‘Ruby, hon, are you on a diet?’ asked Amanda.

  ‘Hardly, I’m eating fries!’

  ‘I wouldn’t call that eating. You have to put the food in your mouth, chew it and swallow it to make it count. I should know.’ Amanda’s older sister had suffered from anorexia, so she thought she was an expert on eating disorders and had the right to comment on her friends’ calorie intake. She became anxious if anyone ordered a salad, or refused a piece of chocolate.

  ‘Honestly, Mand, I’m just not hungry.’

  Amanda fixed her with a critical stare. ‘I’m a bit worried about you, Ru. You hardly ever want to come out these days. And you never hang out with Ross and the guys. He’s a bit miffed.’

  ‘If he was that bothered, he would call me,’ said Ruby, irritated. ‘Or hasn’t he worked out how to use a phone yet?’

  ‘Fair point,’ said Amanda. ‘I know you two aren’t serious. But he is cute, I’ve always thought so. Are you sure you want to leave him hanging? I can’t see him waiting around for you.’

  Ruby shrugged. ‘He’s selfish and unreliable and vain. I’m fed up of him, Mand. You can have him if you like.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant! I don’t want your cast-offs, thanks. Hey, what’s up with you lately? You’ve been acting dead weird, staying in a lot, always going straight home from school. Are you OK? Hanni, has she said anything to you?’

  Hanni shook her head and gave Ruby a sympathetic glance.

  ‘Nothing’s up, honest. I’m fine,’ said Ruby. ‘I’ve just had a load of coursework and family stuff, you know.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Hanni. ‘We know.’

  Ruby took a deep breath. She didn’t need to be a clairvoyant to guess what the answer would be before she asked the question, but she had to ask it anyway. ‘So, what do you two think of Noah?’

  ‘Noah the nerd?’ said Hanni, raising her eyebrows.

  Ruby nodded.

  ‘Are you serious? What’s there to think about?’

  ‘I don’t know … I just think he’s a nice guy. There’s more to him than you think. He’s … Don’t you think he’s got lovely eyes?’

  Amanda giggled loudly. ‘She’s lost it. Hanni, she’s totally lost it! Ruby, sweetie, you’re so out of his league! You can have guys like Ross, why on earth would you be interested in Noah? I doubt he’s into girls, anyway. Just computers. And maybe trains.’

  ‘It’s not like that,’ said Ruby, backtracking. Her friends were never going to accept Noah as potential boyfriend material, she realised. They couldn’t even begin to look at him the way she did, as a guy, instead of a geek. ‘I was just thinking aloud. You know, he’s my neighbour, and he’s helped me with my computer, and I just think he’s got nice eyes. I don’t mean anything by it.’

  ‘That time you came to pick me up for school,’ said Hanni, suspiciously. ‘You were with him then. It’s obvious he has a thing for you. Have you been seeing him?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. He’s just an old friend. We often bump into other in the street and have a chat. I do think he might have a bit of a crush on me though.’ She laughed.

  ‘Phew,’ said Amanda. ‘I was a bit worried about you there. I thought you had a serious bad taste issue.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Hanni. ‘Imagine kissing him. You’d need to stand on a step ladder.’

  ‘And you might get burned by the sun!’ Amanda spluttered.

  ‘Don’t be mean,’ Ruby said, remembering with the flicker of a smile what it was really like to kiss Noah. She wanted to say, ‘The truth is, kissing him is amazing, much nicer than kissing Ross – he’s a real natural,’ but she didn’t want her friends to choke to death on their burgers. Instead, she half-heartedly joined in with their laughter at Noah’s expense. It made her feel sad and conflicted. She might have decided she liked Noah, but what her friends thought was important too. She needed a boyfriend who would get on with them, whom they respected, who was someone they’d want to hang out with. Noah was none of those things. It didn’t mean she couldn’t see him, but maybe it was better if they kept their relationship a secret, for now at least. He’d understand, wouldn’t he? He was already the keeper of her biggest secret, and he’d told her he liked being the only person who knew who she really was. Maybe, then, he’d enjoy having a secret relationship too. It was quite romantic, if you looked at it a certain way.

  ‘So, are you going to dump Ross, then?’ asked Amanda.

  ‘Nah, I’ll just leave things how they are. As in nowhere. We’re not officially going out, never have been, so I don’t officially need to dump him, do I?’

  ‘True,’ said Hanni. ‘And he probably wouldn’t take it very well, would he? He’d get all macho about it. It’s best if you let him think he’s dumped you.’

  Ruby shrugged. She had zero interest in what Ross felt. ‘If he wants.’

  The man at the next table got up to go, leaving his newspaper behind, ‘Hey,’ said Amanda, reaching over to grab it. ‘Look, Hanni, there’s a story about Cheryl Cole here for you.’

  ‘Ooh, let’s see,’ said Hanni. She skimmed the article, then pushed the paper away, nonplussed. ‘That’s not news. I already knew that weeks ago.’

  ‘Give it here,’ said Amanda. She went through a few pages, just glancing at the pictures and reading the headlines, until something caught her interest. ‘Hey, you know we were going to see Robin Hood on Friday night, did you hear about this?’ She turned the paper around so the others could see.

  Robyn Hood, Princess of Thieves

  An anonymous teenage blogger who calls herself Robyn Hood is causing a stir online. This gym-slip outlaw, who really does wear tights under her school uniform, BRAGS about shoplifting pricey gear from designer stores and then donating it to CHARITY shops. In her detailed internet diaries she BOASTS about the BUZZ she gets from stealing jewellery, nicking und
erwear, swiping silk tops and pilfering knitwear. She even gives readers TIPS on how to shoplift themselves …

  ‘Yeah,’ said Hanni. ‘I heard about it on the radio before I went to school.’

  ‘What a muppet!’ Amanda said. ‘Why go to the trouble of stealing stuff if you’re not going to keep it?’

  ‘For the buzz I think.’ Hanni chewed her lip. ‘But then she feels guilty and wants to get rid of it. Sort of makes sense.’

  Ruby put down her fries. Acid was rising in her throat and she felt as if she was about to throw up. ‘I don’t feel very well,’ she mumbled, scrambling out of her seat as quickly as she could. The toilets were on the other side of the restaurant and she didn’t know if she would make it. She was lightheaded and her heart was beating so fast it felt as if it was going to explode from her chest. Retching, she managed to find her way inside a cubicle just in time. Afterwards, she sat on the closed toilet seat for a few minutes, her head between her knees, breathing as slowly and deeply as she could. None of her thoughts were coherent.

  ‘Are you all right in there?’ It was Hanni’s voice. ‘We’re worried about you.’

  ‘I’m OK,’ Ruby said, shakily. ‘I’ll be out in a minute. Go back to the table.’

  When she was sure Hanni had left, she opened the cubicle door and went to the sink to wash her hands and her face. Her legs felt as if they wouldn’t carry her and she had to lean against the sink for support. The fluorescent lighting above the mirror did her no favours. There she was, the Robyn Hood, and she looked terrible, her skin pale and blotchy.

  When she came back to the table, both her friends peered at her with concern.

  ‘God, Ru, you look so white. What’s wrong?’ said Amanda.

  ‘I don’t know. I must have eaten something dodgy for breakfast.’

  Hanni put her hand on Ruby’s arm. ‘I think you should go home. We’ll cover for you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Ruby said. She wanted to be alone, to have time to think. Now the shock was wearing off she no longer felt nauseous, but her head was beginning to throb. She picked up her coat and her bag. ‘I think I’ll go now, if that’s OK.’

  ‘Course it is. We’ll call you later,’ said Amanda.

  ‘Look after yourself,’ said Hanni.

  Ruby walked home slowly and cautiously, as if she was no longer sure that the paving stones would bear her weight without cracking. It was a journey she had made every day for years, and yet everything seemed different, shifted, slightly out of focus perhaps – she couldn’t put her finger on what had changed. She bowed her head, afraid to make eye contact with anybody who passed by. What if they were someone who had read her blog or gossiped about her? What if they could tell that she was Robyn Hood?

  It still seemed incredible to her that she’d had no inkling of what had been going on around her. Weren’t your ears supposed to burn if people talked about you? How could she not have realised that tens of thousands of people were discussing her actions and her private thoughts, criticising her, hating her even? Tens of thousands of people. It was one thing seeing a few hundred comments on her blog – and that had been enough of a shock – quite another knowing that she was being written about in the papers and picked apart on the radio.

  By the time she reached her front door, her mood had transformed. The shock was fading and, instead, she was beginning to think about what being famous could mean. She was growing excited, euphoric even. Wasn’t this what she’d always wanted? To be someone? To be talked about? To be a celebrity? To make a mark? She went straight into her bedroom and switched on her computer. What else had been written about her? She had googled her name a few times, like everyone had, but, aside from her Facebook page, she had only ever found two mentions of Ruby Collins, both related to her school netball team. Googling Robyn Hood brought up so many hits she didn’t know where to start looking. Instead, she decided to do a newspaper search. She’d never looked at the newspapers online in her life, but now she had the urge to read every one. Several of them had stories about her, and one of them, the boring one that Mum brought home with her from work sometimes, even had comments from the Archbishop of Canterbury! Apparently, the reason she – and people like her – shoplifted was because of the breakdown of society and the destruction of local communities. Ruby didn’t really understand what he meant but she was fairly certain that wasn’t what motivated her. Funny, she thought, if only he’d asked me I’d have told him I did it because sometimes I feel bored and frustrated. Hasn’t he read my blog? For a second, Ruby flirted with the idea of sending the Archbishop a letter telling him he didn’t know what he was talking about, but she had no idea where to send it. What was his address? Archbishop of Canterbury, Canterbury? And what should she call him? Dear Sir? Dear Archie?

  Her thoughts started to run away with her. Maybe she’d be invited to the premiere of the Robin Hood film next week. Maybe she’d do the chat-show circuit. The hosts would love her, and whatever bands were on their shows that week would hear her singing to herself in the green room and ask her to sing live with them. A single would be sure to follow. Maybe she’d be able to start hanging out with Lily Allen and Robert Pattinson and Brangelina. This was far better than going out shoplifting. The buzz was so much bigger, so much more intense …

  And then it struck her. If she wanted this to continue, she would have to give people – give her fans – what they wanted. And what they wanted was more of Robyn Hood’s blog. What they wanted was for her to engage them with exciting tales of her dangerous exploits, to shock them and surprise them and anger them. If the blog was going to maintain their interest, Robyn would have to take greater risks and steal more expensive things. She certainly couldn’t get caught.

  Ruby sighed. She would just have to make it up. She leant back in her chair, opened up her blog and began to write a new entry.

  Chapter 17

  Noah felt uncomfortable reading Ruby’s latest blog. It was all rubbish, of course, all a fantasy. At the time she claimed to have been out shoplifting she had actually been with him. Still, it was better that she was making things up than stealing again, and risking getting caught. In the blog, she said she’d visited the designer floor of the local department store and stolen a crimson dress worth five hundred pounds from under the noses of two shop assistants and a security guard. Five hundred pounds, he thought, you could get a second-hand car for that, or a holiday! Brazenly, she said she’d worn it home, under her own clothes. She said it looked too pristine to be second-hand, so she’d roughed it up a little bit, dulling its sheen and creating a few loose threads. Then, she said, she’d gone back to the high street and dropped it off at the sick animals charity shop, telling them that it had been her school prom dress and she’d never have another occasion to wear it, so she wanted it to go to a good cause.

  He was impressed by the way Ruby had described the dress. She’d used all kinds of tempting words, like luscious and silky, which made it sound like something anyone would want. Any girl, obviously. He was sure his sisters would have killed each other for it. If it had existed. Later, Ruby would tell him that she’d found a dress on an internet shopping site and copied its description, adding a few extra, imaginative details of her own. It was a make she knew the department store sold, so there was no reason the dress couldn’t have been shoplifted from there, no reason at all why people would doubt her tale.

  Noah wasn’t so sure. Even if he hadn’t known the truth, it was obvious to him that the whole story was made up because its tone was completely different from her earlier, genuine blog entries. Ruby’s true accounts were honest and thoughtful. This was just boastful, with no hint of the fear or guilt that he knew she felt when she went out shoplifting. He wasn’t sure he liked Robyn Hood; he’d never have fallen for her.

  Just a few days before, he would have said life was as close to perfect as anything not designed like a microchip could be. Ruby had admitted that she liked him too – in actions rather than words – but they count more, don’t
they? Not only that, but she had stopped stealing – or so she’d said, and he was inclined to believe her, in spite of what she had written in her blog – and he had really thought he’d now have a shot at being her boyfriend. Finally, after all these months of daring to dream about it. He’d have settled for her friendship, if that was all that was on offer, but she’d wanted more. It hadn’t seemed real or possible until he said the words out loud, so he’d confided in his eldest sister (leaving out the shoplifting parts of the story, and obviously not going into any detail about the kissing bit), and she was thrilled for him. She didn’t even tease him about it much, although there was more hair patting than usual, and whenever she saw him she’d grin broadly and wink.

  But now Ruby’s blog had taken on a life of its own and he had a gnawing feeling in his gut that the attention it was receiving would draw her away from him. When he’d spoken to her, a few hours earlier, she had been so excitable and breathless he could barely make out what she was saying. She kept going on about being famous and how weird it all was, and asking him if he’d read the stories about her blog in the papers, or heard anything about it on the radio or TV. After her call he’d spent a good hour going through the articles and comments on the web and they had only made him feel anxious and irritable. All those people talking about Ruby – or rather, Robyn – knew nothing about her. Not like he did. They were just speculating about her, judging her, jumping to conclusions. He wanted Ruby to himself for a while, not in a creepy way, but so he could spend some proper time with her. He’d waited long enough! He certainly didn’t want to share her with a load of strangers. Why Ruby even wanted to be famous made no sense to him. He couldn’t think of anything worse than being followed, having people crawling all over your life, trying to burrow their way in, like those insects that lay eggs under your skin.

  Thinking about it all made him feel angry but he couldn’t articulate why, or say exactly where, or at whom his anger was directed. He had a feeling of helplessness, of being out of control. It made him want to hit something, but he wasn’t a violent person, so he took his rage out on a computer game instead. That didn’t help; he was too angry to concentrate and so his score was pitiful, which made him feel even angrier and more frustrated than ever. It occurred to him to take Ruby’s blog down, to make it disappear forever, so that everybody would go away and leave him alone with her, but he knew that wouldn’t be fair or right and, most of all, it would just make her hate him.