First published in Great Britain in 2019
by Electric Monkey, an imprint of Egmont UK Limited
The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN
Text copyright © 2019 Lisa Heathfield
The moral rights of the author have been asserted
First e-book edition 2019
ISBN 978 1 4052 9386 0
Ebook ISBN 978 1 7803 1869 1
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library
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For my brother and sisters Philip, Lara, Emma and Anna – for choosing hope and love as your weapons of choice.
CONTENTS
They say I am number 276.
And that I can’t escape.
They tell me what to do, what to wear, where to go. They try hard to hollow us out, to shrink us, to make us so that we can’t exist.
But they don’t see inside of me. The part of me that they’ll never destroy.
They call me number 276, but that’s not my name.
My name is Ruby West. I am fifteen years old.
And I won’t let them silence me.
‘Our country was sinking into a black hole, but you voted for us to save you. We will re-establish order and we will make you safe. We will make our country strong again.’ – John Andrews, leader of the Traditional Party
It’s his gun I see first. Hard metal tucked into his belt, his fingers touching the tip.
A soldier, in our street.
I’m behind him now, a few metres away. Close enough to see how his green uniform has been ironed with a line down the back, like some weird backbone pushing through the material. And there’s the red slash on his arm to show us he’s a Traditional. As if we didn’t know.
His boots are big, but they’re quiet on the pavement. He’s quiet. And he’s walking so slowly that I have to go past him. He turns and looks at me as I do, but I keep facing straight ahead. I don’t want to see his hair, his eyes.
I smell him though, a jolt of aftershave. And he’s whistling, quietly. I want to run, but I can’t, I must keep walking, concentrate on the houses ahead. I bite my lip, taste my strawberry lip balm.
His whistling stops. I feel his eyes on me, on the undercut above my bare neck.
‘The school day starts soon.’ It’s his voice, speaking to me.
A hand suddenly links through my arm and drags me forward. It’s Destiny. She’s in my year at school and even though I don’t think we’ve ever even spoken to each other, right now I want to hug her.
‘Come on,’ she says. ‘Or we’re going to be late.’
She leads me away from him, away from the soldier and his gun, and we’re running around the corner and leaving him behind.
When we’re far enough away we slow down and Destiny unloops her arm from mine.
‘Thanks,’ I say.
She shrugs and smiles. ‘No problem.’
‘I can’t believe that there are soldiers on the streets,’ I say.