by Saci Lloyd
I shook my head. “Nobody asks any questions in our family. They’re too scared of what they’ll find out.”
After that we listened to tunes and didn’t say anything all afternoon. Adi’s the same—when he’s got stuff going on, he doesn’t want to talk, either.
And just to finish off the day, later on I picked up a message from my cousin Amy from Washington.
Adi took one look at it. “Print it out so we can burn it!” he snarled, reaching for a lighter. We watched the flames lick up the page into a big ball of carbon. I love that boy; he’s so totally on my side.
Tues., March 3
Elise Penatata phoned from the Carbon Department. She is coming around next Friday to start our Carbon Offenders Recovery Program. I heard Mum going, “Once you meet us, I’m sure everything will be fine. . . . I mean, we’re not criminals or anything, ha, ha, ha!” And then there was a long silence while she went “Umm, uh-huh” and her face turned bright red. She put the phone down and stood for a minute drawing a squiggle on the phone pad—before filling her lungs with oxygen and shouting: “I am really, really angry with you right now, Kimberley Brown! This is not just your life.”
Then Kim’s voice. “I am really, really angry with you right now, Julia Brown! Cos of you I don’t have a life.”
Fri., March 6
Kim’s been shut in her room in carbon cold turkey all week. Even though I hate her, I took her in a cheese and onion toastie. She was shivering in fetal position on the top of the comforter, her eyes all glazed like a wild animal that’s been run over by a car.
Even the Leaders are behaving better than us. Two of them, Delaney and Conrad, have actually started going to school. They hang out with a load of IT and engineering nerds like Brains Fitzsimmons and that crew. Maybe they needed a crisis to make them get serious. Doubt it, though.
At 6:30 Mum got all of us in the living room to wait for the carbon pigs. Since that letter she’s been in manic-control-superdrive, but when the doorbell rang, she looked terrified. That’s the trouble with people who need control; when it starts to slip away, they’ve got nothing left.
Dad let Elise Penatata in. She talked at us for an hour. Blah, blah, the U.K. is achieving its targets; blah, massive reduction in CO2 emissions in the atmosphere; blah, blah, setting an example to the world; blah, the personal is political; blah, blah. She kept putting her head on one side and doing this weird smile, sort of peeling her lips back over her pointy teeth, like a weasel on drugs.
Dad’s eyelids started to close.
“And this brings us rather neatly to your daughter. The Carbon Department can, of course, work with a certain level of overspending, but this is a flagrant breach of the rationing rules. Kim has spent nearly all of her month’s two hundred points on flights alone and is now a hundred and fifty points in deficit due to her energy use in London. We cannot allow you to use cash to buy your way out of carbon debt. You must pay back the energy.” Elise snapped her little teeth. “It is not for me to presume to interfere in the private affairs of a family, but . . .” (Huh. Whenever anyone says but like this you better watch out big time) and then she basically told my parents how crappy they were—about how out of control Kim was, how they were setting a bad example, how they had to get their act together. It was harsh. She shamed them big style and they just sat there and took it, Mum’s face all white and Dad staring at his shoes.
Suddenly Kim jumped up from the sofa. “Back off my parents, you bitch. I’m the problem, not them . . . and I want to try again!” She burst into tears and then Mum burst into tears. Even Elise squeezed out a few drops—and then they turned and looked at me super evil because I was not crying. Kim’s up to something, I know it.
Anyway, the deal is the whole family is on CO Death Row for a month till we get our emissions right down again. The only cool thing is that Kim’s gonna be reprogrammed at the Carbon Offenders Rehabilitation Outreach Centre on Lee Road.
As she was leaving, Elise turned to us. “It’s not so bad—this could be a really positive thing, y’know, bring you together as a family. . . . You might even enjoy it!” There was dead silence while she clipped her metal pencil back onto her clipboard. “Well, I shall see you in a month’s time then,” she said stiffly.
Sat., March 7
So much for family togetherness. March is going to be the month of a thousand nights. Day 1 and I’m already going crazy. Every one of us is sitting in the dark in our own separate freezing rooms. Our ancestors couldn’t have had it this bad—at least they had candles and corsets and cards and lutes and shit. Oh yeah, and servants, too.
The hydro gig’s coming up next week. There’s nothing going to stop me going, even if I have to walk there. I had to get off the bus today cos I didn’t have enough credit to get me all the way to school. I am a carbon leper.
Mon., March 9
The Smart Meter’s gone like a military dictator. It cut the cooker and the fridge off, so tonight we sat around the table in coats and gloves, eating cold beans and ice cream.
“Oh, by the way, I’m joining a Women’s Skills Group.” Mum scraped the inside of her carton.
Dad forked a bean. “Uh-huh?”
“Nothing formal, just a few women from publishing sort of clubbing together to share tips, darling.”
Dad rolled his eyes ever so slightly but got busted, anyway.
“I saw that,” she muttered. “Anyway, it sure beats moping around here like a wet hen.”
The front door slammed. Kim stood there in the doorway. We all looked down at our plates.
Tues., March 10
Cool afternoon. I finished up my fuzz pedal case in Design Tech. I gave it one last layer of gunmetal gray paint and scratched dirty angels on the lid and it looked pretty good. Even Dave Beard lisped, “Very original, Laura.”
Anyway, I was packing away my tools at the end of class when Adisa strolled in.
“Hey, let me see!” he cried in a weird happy voice, picking up the pedal case. He turned to Ravi.
“So cool—it’s for our band. Laura plays bass, y’know?”
Ravi glanced at me. “Safe. How long you been into that?”
“Oh, jussa bit, no big deal.”
“Don’t let her fool you, she’s good. Anyway, gotta go . . . You on your bike, Laur?”
“Yeah.”
“What about you, Rav?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Well then, neighbors, you’ll be ridin’ back to your yard together, huh?” Adi turned and strode off down the corridor. Me and Rav stood there for a moment in super-bad silence.
“Okay, then,” he said. “I’ve just got to get my jacket. Wait here 2 minutes?”
“Sure.” Heart pounding.
And then along came Thanzila Amar.
“Oh, hey, Ravi,” she pouted. “How’s my vid phone coming on?”
His eyes went a bit dazed. “All fixed up.”
Thanzila gave a little squeal. “Really? Can I pick it up, like, now?”
“Er, yeah, it’s in my—uh . . . locker. . . .” He turned to me. “Um . . . this might take awhile. So, catch you later?”
“Sure. No problem.”
I’d like to put Thanzila in my locker and leave her there over the Easter holiday. Wouldn’t look so hot then, would you, girl?
The hydro tomorrow. Can’t wait!
Fri., March 13
Adi caught me in the Yard at break this morning.
“So?”
“What?”
He shot me a fierce look.
“All right . . . He was going to ride home with me then Thanzila rocked up so he didn’t.”
“Gotta use your assets, Laura Brown.”
“What assets?”
He shook his head in disgust. “See you tonight at 6. OK?”
I watched him walk away. Sometimes I’m so jealous of him—he always knows where he’s at and what’s going on. He’s been with the same girl, Sarah, for 2 years. They’re dead close, no big dramas, no big scenes.
1 A.M. Fired up like crazy. The hydro were so-oo cool. Once we got to Brixton, me, Claire, and Adi followed the crowd to their warehouse just off Coldharbor Lane. The place was full of hard-core kids going mental, screaming hydro, hydro till the band came out. The set was awesome. It was like a 10-meter tower of recycled shit, wires, and circuits poking out everywhere. Looked like it was gonna come crashing down on us. The best bit was the chorus of their last downloader polootzute when a whole bunch of kids took over the stage on hydro skates. They were flying thru the air, climbing the walls, looping above the crowd. A skater shot right over the top of us, liquid spraying off the back of his board.
“Urggh, what’s that?” I shouted.
“S’hydrogen combustion! By-product is water,” screamed Adi. “Here they come again, girl. Duck!”
When it was over hundreds of us stood out on the street. An old gas Audi pulled up at the lights. It had those tinted windows so you couldn’t see inside. Suddenly all the kids started chanting Pig, pig, pig! Then a girl broke out of the crowd, jumped onto the hood, and sprayed a massive H symbol all over it. Whoever was inside must’ve been freaking out—this girl on the hood, thousands of crazy kids all around. As soon as she jumped off, the Audi shot the lights.
“That was cool,” muttered Claire as we waited for the bus.
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Oh, come on, you’ve got to admit that took guts.”
“Surrounded by an army of her mates?”
Claire glanced across at me. “Well at least she didn’t just talk about it. She did it.”
“What are you saying?”
“Nothing.”
“Yeah, you are. You’re saying I haven’t got the guts to do something like that.”
“Well, have you?”
Adi put his arms around both our shoulders. “You two. Let it go.”
I sat all the way home in silence. Adi walked me to my corner.
“Don’t let her get to you, Laur. She loves winding you up.”
I sighed. “Yeah, I know.”
When I got to my front door I turned. He was still there, watching. I waved good night.
Claire just texted me. Bet you wouldn’t dare.
I hit her back. Watch me.
Sat., March 14
Saw Kieran in Alfredo’s today, surrounded by paper. He was too busy even to look up.
Sun., March 15
I went around to Arthur’s and listened to horse racing from Kentucky on the net in front of his heater. He could see I was shivering, so he turned on an extra bar just for me. I asked him again if he’d be my needy person for my Care Energy preservation, and this time his NHS glasses went all misty.
I was climbing back over the garden fence when I saw Ravi locking up his shed. He looked up.
“Hey, Laura, sorry about the other day.”
“That’s okay. Did you give Thanzila her stuff?”
He grinned.
“What’s so funny?”
“That girl—she’s pretty out there . . .”
A second’s silence and then we both burst out laughing. Suddenly Mum’s voice came shrilling out of the kitchen window. “Darling! Laura! Could you come here a mo?” Pause. “Now!”
“Gotta go.”
“Yeah—see you in school . . . tomorrow?”
When I got to the kitchen, I nearly didn’t go in. It was packed with strange, posh women. One woman even had an upturned shirt collar, like Lady Diana. And then it clicked. Had to be the Women’s Skills Group. Mum was standing at the chopping board. Smiling bright.
“In my opinion, offal is the way forward. It’s nutritious, extremely local, low on Carbon Points and, of course, ha ha ha, terribly trendy!”
She caught sight of me. “Oh, hello, darling! Everybody, this is my youngest daughter, Laura—we often make this dish at home together! Sweetie, come on in.”
I took a step forward, and then I saw what was on the chopping board. A pile of animal entrails, swimming in blood.
Kim walked in. “Gross,” she snorted, before snatching up her house keys and striding out again.
Then Mum made the mistake of actually looking at the oozing organs. Her eyes rolled back and she staggered. What could I do? I went over and picked up a gizzard.
“Thank you, darling,” she gasped, nailing her smile back on.
So I stood there and demonstrated gizzards until Mum finally let me go.
When they’d all gone I crept back into the kitchen to get a Coke. Mum was wiping up blood spatters. And then I caught sight of my dad. He was on the sofa, pretending to read the paper, but really he was looking at Mum. His eyes weren’t all kind, like normal.
Mon., March 16
Ravi smiled at me in the Yard. Maybe he does like me. Like that. A little bit.
Tues., March 17
Tonight we had band practice at Adi’s for the first time in ages. Basically, his mum had banned us from the garage because she’d got a new freezer and had taken away Adi’s band points to power it up. But there is some justice in the world cos the freezer broke down without anyone knowing. His mum only found out when the neighbor’s dog started howling outside the side door cos of the stink. Plus Adi’s brother, Shola, had done a home biology experiment with blowfly eggs in the garage 2 weeks before, and they hatched and multiplied big time. Adi said it was awesome—a total fest of rotting meat and swarming flies. So the angels are back and it’s got a kind of gothic death vibe in there now. Cool.
Anyway, the real news is that Stacey’s-friend-Chris’s-cousin-from-Vauxhall’s-buddy-at-work said to Stace that he’s gonna get us a gig at the Hope and Anchor in Greenwich in a couple of months. This is it, the beginning!
Claire caught up with me at the end. “When?”
“Friday night. Come around to mine.”
She grinned. “Can’t wait.”
What am I doing? Now I’ve got to scratch up a Jeep to impress Claire bloody Connor.
Wed., March 18
There’s a fuel protest happening. Truck drivers are blocking gas stations all over West London. They’re angry cos the gov’s piled this massive tax on fuel and they say they’re already on the edge cos of rationing, anyway.
Thurs., March 19
The protest is getting bigger. It’s spreading over London.
Ravi sneaked me a piece of Wrigley’s Extra in Design Tech and whispered, “What you up to this weekend?”
“Nothing.”
“D’you wanna hook up or something?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll call you.”
Oh yeah!
Fri., March 20
Claire came over at 8. As soon as she stepped inside she grabbed my hand.
“There’s only one way to go.”
“What d’you mean?”
She opened the front door a couple of centimeters and nodded toward Tracey Leader’s Jeep.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding. That is death.”
Claire’s massive eyes lit up. “Cool.”
“For you, maybe; but I live here.”
“She ain’t ever going to know.” She curled her lip. “Well, if you won’t, then I will. Thought you had more guts.”
“Claire, stop talking shit. I’ve got guts, it’s just too close . . .”
“Yeah, right.”
I knew I was being manipulated, that she was messing with me, but I just had to face up to her.
“You got a key on you?”
She gasped. “You gonna do it?”
I pushed past her. “Never mind. I’ve got one.”
And before I could stop to think, I was crouched on the pavement by Tracey Leader’s Jeep.
“Keep a lookout!” I hissed. Claire ran to the corner by the trash cans.
I took out my house key and scratched one deep H into the side door. Oh, man, it felt so good! Flash! I looked up. Claire taking a photo on her cell phone.
“Quit it!”
Suddenly there was the sound of footsteps. Claire whis
pered, “Fat bird coming.”
“What’s she like?”
“Blonde hair; rough.”
I looked up. “Shit—it’s Tracey. We’ve got to hide. Now.” I crawled over to the trash cans.
“Move up!”
“Where?”
“Behind you!”
We crawled into a disgusting, stinky pile of trash. Footsteps up close now. Pause. Then a gasp.
“No. Way.”
I peered around the side of a trash can. Tracey was punching in a cell phone number.
“Yeah, Karl. Some bastard’s keyed up my car with a shitty H thing. Find who it is and bring ’em to me.”
We stayed behind that trash can for about a year till we got up the guts to come out.
I’m lying on my bed now, thinking about it. What the hell did I do that for?
Sat., March 21
Stayed indoors all day. No call from Ravi. Now a bunch of drivers are running their trucks off sunflower oil cos there’s no tax on it. They did a mass ram raid on about 50 supermarkets around the M25 motorway and ran off with thousands of cans of oil. Weird.
The mayor did a broadcast. He said: “This behavior is unacceptable. We must pull together. Rationing will, by its very nature, involve some hardship until the transition to alternative fuels is in effect.”
Thanks for that, mate.
Sun., March 22
I’ve spent the day hiding from the Eye of the Leader and pretending to myself that I’m not waiting for R to call, like a stupid girl. But I am a stupid girl.
In the end I ran next door and buzzed Kieran. It took him ages to open the door, and when I got in there I could see why. The entire apartment, from wall to wall, was covered in scrawled-on, screwed-up bits of paper. Kieran was all pale, but when he saw me, he laughed and gave me a giant hug.
“Oh, Laura, Laura, I’ve had an epiphany!”
It was so nice to be with someone who was (a) happy, and (b) pleased to see me. Even if the someone was clearly either (a) insane, or (b) coming down off drugs.
“Let’s celebrate!” He ran around his apartment, flicking on lights and stereos and TVs and cranking the boiler up, too. I threw myself on the sofa like a prisoner out on day release.