I am Not A Number

by Lisa Heathfield

  He’s convincing, I’ll give him that. I know a lot of people will be lapping this up, oblivious to how much will be destroyed for this so-called life. Like our voice, our freedom. I nudge Luke gently with my arm and he nudges me back. Thank God for his sanity in this madness.

  ‘We know,’ the soldier continues, ‘that much of the country voted for us. People knew it was time for change. And we believe in the importance of solidarity. We know that you want to be as proud of the party you voted for as we are proud of you. Therefore, from today, you are all instructed to wear a band on your arm depicting your allegiance.’

  Mr Edwards takes a step backwards. It’s obvious that he didn’t know this was going to happen.

  The soldier’s smile doesn’t seem friendly to me. ‘Some of you look confused,’ he says. He looks like a snake. ‘Let me explain it more clearly. You are about to come up here and choose a band of either the Traditionals or the Core Party. You will wear that band at all times.’

  There’s not even a murmur. Two hundred silent students. I glance around, but everyone just stares at the front.

  Two soldiers appear from the side door carrying a box each. And both are carrying guns slung over their shoulders. They put the boxes on a table. Across the front of one there’s the red slash against the green of the Trads, the other has a rectangle of purple with four yellow upward steps. One soldier slices a knife across the top of one box, then the other.

  ‘The decision of which band you choose must be your own,’ Chris Stewart says from the front. ‘Don’t be influenced by your friends. And if your parents were foolish enough to vote for the Core Party, know that you don’t have to follow them. They may be frightened of change, but this is your chance to stand up to them, to be your own person. Break free of their chains.’

  ‘What an idiot,’ Luke whispers so quietly that it’s probably only me who hears it.

  ‘The front row first,’ Chris Stewart says. No one moves until he points to the girl on the end. ‘You,’ he says. ‘Come and choose your band. The rest will follow in silence.’

  She’s a new girl. I don’t know her name, but she goes straight to the Traditionals’ box. She reaches in, pulls out an elasticated green band and pulls it over her school jumper to the top of her arm, turning it so that the red slash is clearly visible. Chris Stewart pats her on the back and she smiles up at him as though he’s some sort of hero or something.

  It’s Shaun Williams next and he doesn’t even hesitate before he chooses the Trads. Then James and Ashwar from my tutor group and Tristan. He’s not laughing now as he pulls the green band up his arm.

  I don’t know if they all really want to, or if it’s the men holding guns behind them that make them do it.

  Sara is first in the second row. I know her mum voted for the Trads as she wanted a change. She said other governments had led us nowhere and she wanted to give someone else a chance. Her dad couldn’t decide so he hadn’t voted. But Sara? She’s been my best mate since our first day in this school and her head is screwed on right.

  She gets to the front and hesitates. She looks at Stewart who watches her, before she walks past the Core’s box and puts her hand into the one for the Trads. I drop my head down. Luke reaches over for my hand and this time he doesn’t let go.

  I don’t want to see any more of it. I don’t want to believe that it’s happening. So I close my eyes. Are they doing this with Year Eight? Are they going to make my sister choose?

  ‘I’m not ashamed.’ The voice that makes me look up is Conor’s. He’s pulling a purple Core Party band up his arm, positioning it so that the yellow steps are visible for everyone to see.

  ‘Ignorance is not something to be proud of,’ Chris Stewart says, glaring at him. I think Conor is going to say something else, but the soldiers with the guns stand straight and he walks back to his seat.

  There are a handful of people in the rows in front who have the purple band. The logo of the steps are meant to represent walking up to a brighter, better future, yet not enough people seem to be listening. Or are they just scared? I wish my dad was here, as he’d tell them not to be intimidated. But he lives so far away now that he might not even know this is going on.

  It’s my turn. Our line stands up and I follow Jen along the length of chairs. Luke is behind me. The air, all of the sounds, seem to have been sucked from the room as we walk to the front. I can’t tell which I feel more – defiance or fear. But there’s never any doubt about which I’ll choose.

  I don’t look at the soldiers, at their empty eyes and loaded guns, as I pull the purple band over my wrist and the sleeve of my jumper. The material it’s made of is stretchy and clings to my arm. I twist it so that the steps face out and as I walk back to my seat I keep my head held high. I look calm, but if you sliced me open now you’d see my heart struggling to keep up with its beating.

  I sit down and for a while I don’t look at Luke. I know his dad is a strong Core supporter as he goes to meetings with my mum and my step-dad, Darren. And I know Luke’s thoughts and that he’d want to choose that. But did he? With bullets so close by, did he stay strong to his beliefs?

  ‘Look at me, Rube,’ he whispers. I do. He has a purple band on his arm.

  I want to smile, but I can’t.

  In the corridor, everyone is strangely quiet. No one quite looks in each other’s eyes.

  ‘I want to find Lilli,’ I say to Luke. ‘She’s normally in the canteen at first break.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ Luke says, putting his hand in mine. I try not to see people’s arms, but there are far, far more green bands than purple. I’ve never felt vulnerable in school before, but I do now. It almost feels like being dropped in the sea and circled by sharks. I have to remind myself that everyone is just the same as they were this morning. No one has really changed.

  At least it feels normal in the canteen. It’s not as busy in here as it is at lunchtime, but there’re still lots of people talking and plates being thumped on to trays. Luke and I walk past tables, towards the one where Lilli and her friends are huddled together. They’re the girls she came up from primary school with. The Tight-Knits they used to call themselves, before other kids took the mick.

  Lilli is laughing but stops the moment she looks at me. She moves her arm back, but I’ve already seen the green band.

  ‘She chose the Trads,’ I say to Luke, pulling him to slow down. He looks confused, but when he glances at Lilli I know he sees it too.

  ‘Ruby,’ he says, putting his hands on my shoulders. ‘She would’ve felt alone in there and just copied her friends.’

  ‘But she’s not a Trad.’

  ‘I know. But this is what they want to happen. They want Core families to rip themselves apart, so they can show proof that we’re the bad ones.’

  ‘Darren’ll be furious.’

  ‘He won’t. He’ll understand,’ Luke says. ‘And if she falls out with him then she’ll need you by her side.’ He bends down to kiss me. ‘You can do this.’

  My sister’s table is completely quiet when we get to it.

  ‘Hey, Lils,’ I say, hating the fact that my voice sounds so forced happy. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yes,’ she says, but she doesn’t look it.

  ‘What are you eating?’

  ‘Just a doughnut.’

  Her skinny arm has that green armband clamped round it, but I concentrate on looking at her face instead.

  ‘Enjoy it,’ I say. ‘I just wanted to check you’re all right.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Good. Love you, Chicken Bones,’ I tell her, faking a smile. She doesn’t make a fuss that I just called her that in front of her friends. Instead, she looks like she might cry, which’ll be far more embarrassing for her than some stupid nickname. So I pull Luke away with me.

  As we walk out of the canteen I look around. Hannah Maynard has a green band on. Her boyfriend, Tre, who I know is a Core, has a Trad band glaring from his arm. By the door we
pass Hunter Melville. He’s kind of like the boss of Year Eight. He puts his arm out to show me as we walk by. A Core. I smile at him, genuine now. At least there are bits of surprising light in this grim day.

  I don’t see Sara again until lesson four. I’ve wanted to text her, but Mr Edwards has clamped down on phones so bad recently that I don’t want to risk him taking mine for a few days. Sara’s sitting in her usual seat, the empty chair next to her waiting for me.

  ‘Hey,’ she says.

  ‘Hey back,’ I say. ‘Have you been hiding from me?’

  ‘No.’ Her face is shocked and tells me she has. ‘It’s a weird day.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Miss Hajiev walks into the classroom. She has the green band with the slash of red on her arm. So they’re even getting teachers to do it too.

  ‘This thing doesn’t change anything,’ Sara says, pointing to the Trad band on her own arm.

  ‘Course not,’ I say.

  ‘Right, class,’ Miss Hajiev says. ‘You’ve homework to hand in, I believe.’

  There are groans from people as the air tries to click back into its normal place.

  ‘I bet it’s only for a few days.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. But the word just balances there. It doesn’t step into a patch of truth.

  I wait for Luke after school. I want to feel more confident and look everyone with a Trad band in the eye, but instead I keep focused on the floor as I stand here, scuffing my shoe backwards and forwards until I make a strong line in the dust.

  A gob of saliva lands in front of my foot. I look up and Shaun Williams is standing so close, with bully sunk deep in his eyes.

  ‘Core scum,’ he says. People glance over, but no one stops.

  ‘Rather that than be a Trad,’ I say, pulling my bag closer on my shoulder.

  ‘You can’t hide it any more,’ he says. ‘So you’ll just have to keep watching your back.’

  ‘Or what?’ Luke says, appearing at my side. He’s at least a foot taller than Shaun, but Shaun is wider.

  ‘You’ll have to wait and see,’ Shaun says.

  Luke just laughs. ‘We’ll look forward to it. Now ’scuse us, we’ve got better places to be.’ And he grabs my hand as we start to walk away.

  ‘What, like a Core meeting, or something?’ Shaun shouts. ‘I wouldn’t risk going to one of those if I was you.’

  I look back without even meaning to. Shaun raises a finger at me and slices it across his neck. I want to think of an insult, but my mind fills with nothing.

  ‘He’s not worth it,’ Luke tells me. And at least we’re together as we hurry away from the school, away from the weird day, from friends who are suddenly strangers. Through all the streets, only stopping when we get to the low wall that runs along the side of the disused railway track.

  Normally we’re not that careful as we jump over the bricks that lead to the overgrown slope, but today I don’t want anyone to see.

  ‘Do you think it’s a good idea?’ I ask. Part of me wants to get home, even though Mum isn’t back from work for another hour. Maybe I should be there with Lilli – but what are we going to say to each other now I know what she chose? Will she hide the band under her bed and lie to Mum and Darren?

  ‘There are no rules about where we can and can’t go,’ Luke says, looking around before he walks slowly through the long grass. ‘Yet.’

  I follow him. We always try to zigzag to the bottom, so there’s no path to give us away. Not because we’ve ever been frightened of being caught before, but just because this is our place and we don’t want anyone to find it. Today, I just run down, needing to get to the bottom fast enough. Luke holds up the broken barbed-wire fence and I crawl underneath, holding it for him until he’s through.

  We hold hands as we slip behind the line of trees and walk further down until we’re on the track. I never step on the metal bits, even though it hasn’t been used for years. Instead I walk on the piles of leaves in between.

  For the first time since this morning’s assembly I feel as if I can breathe normally. I reach up to yank off the purple band on my arm and stuff it into my bag. Down here, with the branches of trees touching each other above our heads, life feels normal again. There are no soldiers. No strange rules being introduced. No jealous guarding of some national identity. We can say what we want, wear what we want. I start to roll up the waistband of my skirt, so ridiculously high that I know my knickers show.

  ‘If I like short,’ I say, ‘I’ll have short.’ Luke turns to look at me and he nearly falls over.

  ‘Ruby.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Don’t do that to me.’

  ‘I’m not doing anything to you,’ I say. ‘I’m doing it for me.’ And I brush past him, swaying my hips as I hook up my bag on my shoulder.

  Our hut is there as it always is. Something solid in this madness. Something hidden and secret and us. I think it was something to do with the trains – maybe a signalman’s hut. Luke says it was for a rabbit-shooting man. There was an animal skeleton inside when he first discovered it after he moved to our town and that was all the evidence he needed to create a bogeyman in rabbit skin.

  I spin the numbers on our padlock until it opens and am about to push on the door when Luke puts out an arm to stop me.

  ‘Close your eyes first,’ he says.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  And so I do and I’m expecting to feel him kissing me, but instead I hear him rustling in his bag.

  ‘Okay,’ he says and when I open my eyes he’s holding a necklace. It has Ruby spelled out across it in small looping letters. ‘For you.’ And he laughs. ‘In case you hadn’t guessed.’

  Everything else is silent around us. ‘It’s beautiful.’ And I really mean it.

  ‘As are you.’

  He puts it around my neck, his arms leaning lightly on my shoulder as he does the clasp.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘I love it.’ And I kiss him, taking every drop of the dread and confusion of the day and making it disappear. My hand finds Luke’s Core band and I yank it from him. I don’t want to open my eyes and see it there.

  We stumble into our hut and I kick the door closed.

  ‘Wait,’ he says and he pushes me away.

  ‘I don’t want to,’ I tell him, but he ducks away and goes to the table by the wall.

  ‘I want to draw you first. Like that.’

  ‘In my knickers?’ I raise my eyebrows at him.

  ‘No. In your skirt like that.’ He’s all serious now, like he gets whenever he’s near his art stuff. He grabs his sketchbook from beside the wall. ‘If they really are going to ban short skirts, I need something to remember it by.’

  ‘That just sounds like an excuse.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Luke says and smiles that smile that he knows will make me do anything. ‘Seriously, Rube. You look beautiful. I need to catch that.’

  I put my hair back into its ponytail and feel the softness of my undercut, before I hold the necklace Luke gave me and trace my fingers along the letters of my name.

  ‘You know, I love you more than popcorn,’ I tell him.

  ‘With sugar or salt?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘Good. Just checking.’ And he gets his sketching pencils from his bag.

  ‘Are there any biscuits left?’

  ‘A few, I think.’

  They’re in a tin that his grandad used to keep his ration book in. His dad was going to throw it away, but Luke managed to save it and bring it here. It’s on the floor next to a bottle of water. The tin is stiff to open and the smell of it always makes me feel a bit ick, but I’d never tell Luke that.

  ‘Do you want one?’ I ask him.

  ‘I’m all right,’ he says, as I knew he would. He doesn’t eat when he’s drawing. Something about him not wanting to confuse the senses. I watch as he lights a couple of candles next to his paper. They shine up on to him and make him look carved from stone.

  I take t
he tin with me and go and lie on the rug on my side. It’s more of an offcut of carpet we found in a skip one day, but it was brand new, so we carried it between us all the way from Sydney Street, next to the park. I stretch out my legs and have to shuffle up a bit so my feet don’t press into the chair. The biscuit is definitely stale.

  ‘Eugh,’ I say, as I drop the rest of it back into the tin. ‘It’s bendy.’

  ‘They’re meant to be,’ Luke says, his pencil in his mouth as he straightens his sketchbook. ‘They’re called bendy biscuits.’

  He looks up at me and it’s always in this moment that he sees me differently. I’m not just Ruby. I’m sort of more than me. I’m every line, every shadow that makes up the person I am. All my imperfections too. My nose that could be straighter, my eyes that I wish were brown. The strange splodge of a birthmark above my knee that is clear as anything with my skirt like this.

  ‘Hang on,’ I say and I have to move a bit to get the Core band I threw on the floor. I pull it over my head and it squeezes tight over my eyes, before I leave it around my mouth.

  ‘You’re not going to be able to breathe,’ Luke says, but I shrug. ‘Or speak.’ I pull the band back up until it rests on my forehead.

  ‘Good point,’ I say.

  ‘Ready now?’

  ‘Yup.’

  I’m hoping that me lying here like this might distract him enough from his drawing, but my luck’s not in. I could lie here naked and he’d probably still just study me and scribble away, detached yet somehow more involved all in the same moment. Maybe one day I really will strip off completely. See if he manages to keep his concentration then.