Lifted (11 page)

Going 2 C Noah xx
, she texted, as she turned into her street. She took a small compact out of her bag and studied her face close up in the mirror. Her eyes were a bit puffy and her nose was red, but she didn’t look too bad, considering. She toned down the redness with some powder, and smoothed her hair with her hand. It didn’t occur to her to question why she cared what she looked like for Noah; she never had before. She wondered if he could see her coming from his usual vantage point at his
bedroom window. But when she looked up there was no sign of him. Please be home, she thought. She rang the doorbell and waited. Please be home, she repeated to herself. A tall silhouette loomed up through the frosted glass and then, to her relief, Noah peered around the front door.

Noah knew he shouldn’t have been excited to see Ruby, but he couldn’t help himself. His heart started racing whenever she was nearby. ‘Hi,’ he said brightly, as though he couldn’t believe his luck. Then he reminded himself of what she’d made him do and how he should really be annoyed with her, and he tried to appear more serious. He cleared his throat. ‘Hello.’

‘Hi, Noah,’ said Ruby. She was sheepish. ‘I wanted to come round and thank you. I’m totally sorry about what happened. I mean it. You saved my life again!’

‘You’d better come in,’ he said, trying not to smile too broadly. He opened the door for her. She hadn’t been in his house for years and he could see her eyes darting around, taking everything in. The hall would still have looked the way she recalled it, with the same
colour paint and all the same pictures and hooks and mirrors.

‘Your house smells just like I remember,’ she commented. ‘Nice, like lots of different perfumes all mixed up together.’

He shrugged. ‘Course. That’s because of all my sisters.’

‘Poor Noah,’ she teased. ‘At least you’re not an only child though. Believe me, it sucks.’

He nodded. ‘Do you want to come up to my room?’ he asked tentatively. ‘My sisters are all home. I mean, we can talk better there.’

‘Sure,’ she said. She followed him up the stairs and into his bedroom. He sat down on his bed and was hoping she’d join him, but she sat in his office chair instead. She swivelled around in it, checking out his bedroom, just as she had the hall. He knew she’d be surprised at how bare it was. All the toys were gone, the walls were now plain white, and he’d taken down all his old posters. There was just a bookshelf, a desk, a wardrobe and the bed, which was covered in a duvet with a black and white geometric pattern.

‘Where’s all your stuff gone?’ she asked.

‘It’s been tidied away’ he said. ‘And thrown away, some of it. It helps me think, not having too much clutter.’

‘Oh,’ she said. She laughed. ‘I wouldn’t know! My room is such a mess. Yours looks very grown-up.’

He shrugged, although he was pleased she’d said it.
He liked being thought of as grown up, especially by Ruby. ‘So …’ he said, unsure how to steer the conversation back to what had happened earlier.

‘So …’ she said. She giggled, nervously.

‘What happened before? You nearly gave me a heart attack.’

‘I don’t really know,’ said Ruby, quietly. ‘Sorry.’ She told him the whole story and he listened without interrupting. As she described how she felt when she’d been caught, she looked like she was going to cry again, and it made him want to hug her.

‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘I’m not angry with you.’

She sniffed. ‘Really?’

‘Well, maybe a bit.’

She smiled. ‘I need to ask you, how did you pay? How come you’ve got a credit card?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘In fact, it’s probably better if you don’t know.’

‘Oh,’ she said, surprised. Thankfully, she didn’t ask any other questions. ‘Look, I promise I’m going to pay you back. Every last penny. I promise.’

‘You don’t have to,’ he said. ‘Really.’

‘I will, honestly.’

He took a deep breath. ‘I’d rather you just stopped stealing, Rubes.’ He’d never called her that before; it just slipped out. It was what her dad used to call her, and saying it felt good. And maybe he’d now earned the right to be close to her, because she smiled. He added, ‘I
don’t want you to get into big trouble.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘And I’m going to try. I promise. Honestly.’

He could never have predicted – or dreamed of – what happened next. Without another word, Ruby got up from her chair and walked over to him. Then she put her hands on his shoulders and she kissed him. She kissed him! It was far better even than he had imagined, her lips so much softer and sweeter. She pulled back, much too soon.

‘I should go,’ she said. She looked embarrassed.

Noah wasn’t embarrassed. He was beaming, his eyes big and round. He had never felt so happy in his life. ‘No, don’t,’ he said. All he knew was that he wanted to kiss her again. He pulled her gently on to his lap and put his arms around her waist, drawing her towards him. He didn’t feel awkward or gangly or alone any more. If I’d have known this was going to happen, he thought, I’d have paid five thousand pounds to save her. Or five million.

At the moment she said it, Ruby really did mean that she would try to stop shoplifting. She meant it with all her heart. And she still meant it when she awoke the next morning and, with a coy smile, remembered kissing Noah. She wasn’t sure what had possessed her, but she knew she didn’t regret it for a second. It hadn’t been like kissing Ross, who was all tongue and wandering hands; it was gentle and slow and thrilling. She had felt as if she was falling, and yet at the same time she was perfectly safe. It was the weirdest feeling she’d ever experienced.

She was still adamant she wasn’t ever going to shoplift again when she came straight home from school that Wednesday afternoon, without venturing anywhere near the high street. She was absolutely determined to stop. Had fate not stepped in, then perhaps her life, and
Noah’s, would have taken a very different path. Who knows, maybe they would even have lived happily ever after together in their cul-de-sac.

It wasn’t to be, for bigger, unseen forces were at work. Unknowingly, by writing her blog, by being in ‘the right place at the right time’, Ruby had tapped into the zeitgeist – an invisible ‘feeling’ in the air when, all of a sudden, almost everybody is thinking the same things and talking about the same things, and no one knows why, or how, or where it all started.

First, a report was published by the Government revealing that there had been a massive increase in shoplifting in Britain, particularly by young people. The report might only have made a brief appearance in the news, had it not been for another event. That month, a new film version of the story of Robin Hood was due to be released in cinemas. It starred several of Hollywood’s biggest names and was directed by a multi-Oscar winning director, and it had cost hundreds of millions of dollars to make. There was so much money and so much publicity attached to the film, that unless you lived alone, in a cave, under the ground, in deepest Siberia, you couldn’t have failed to hear about it. Even then, a nosy vole might burrow down to tell you. The film was like a giant snowball, rolling faster and faster, and growing larger and larger, scooping up everything in its path and taking it along for the ride. Its release also ensured that the topic of stealing – particularly the rise
in shoplifting highlighted by the Government report – became
the
major talking point.

Ruby had no inkling that this giant snowball had rolled over her blog, making it a must-read for thousands of strangers. How could she? It probably happened a little like this: lots of people put the title of the new film into a search engine to find out more. What they found, in addition to all the movie publicity, was Ruby’s blog. Noah’s technical wizardry had served her well. When setting up her blog he had made sure that certain key words contained within it would be linked with millions of invisible pathways all over the internet. And so, every time somebody searched for the name ‘Robin Hood’ or even ‘Robyn Hood’ (if they couldn’t spell or type well), or for ‘stealing’ or ‘shoplifting’, it would trigger one of these pathways, and create a direct link to Ruby’s blog. Soon, tens, then hundreds, then thousands of people had stumbled across it. Many of them took no notice of it at all, but there were others who took the trouble to read her words, and some of them liked what they found. These people added Ruby’s blog to their favourites, and some of them told their friends about it, who told their friends. Then there were others, who were shocked or horrified by what they read. They too told other people about the blog; a few of them even wrote about it in their own blogs. The more that it was read, the more prominent it became in the results of every search engine. Within days, Ruby’s blog had a become a snowball of its own, picking
up followers and detractors from across the web.

The first she knew of it was when she logged in to write a new entry, a week after she’d been caught at Zenda. It had taken her that long to calm down and process what had happened, and she hadn’t even been sure that she wanted to blog again. It wasn’t just having to face the humiliation of admitting in print that she’d been caught after all her bravado, it was the fact that unless she went out shoplifting again, she wouldn’t have anything to write about. What, she thought, is the point of having a blog about shoplifting if you don’t do it? It’s like writing about who makes the juiciest burgers, and deciding to become a vegetarian. What changed her mind was the realisation that writing her blog calmed her; she could tell it things she couldn’t tell her friends. If she wasn’t going to go out shoplifting again, she needed this release more than ever. Her last entry had been her bravest to date: it not only detailed what she’d been up to, but also gave practical tips on how best to shoplift.

She logged on to see this, at the bottom of the entry:

Followers: 1633

Comments: 280

At first, she thought she had opened the wrong blog. Surely it must be a mistake? 1633 followers? As far as she knew, Noah was her blog’s only follower, if not its only reader. But then she began to look at the comments and she knew, with certainty, that many, many people really had read her blog.

This blog epitomises everything that’s wrong with society and young people today. Proud of yourself, are you, Robyn? You have no morals. Your parents should be ashamed of you. I’m disgusted.
Barbara Flowers, Kent

You’re going to burn in hell Robyn Hood.
Godisgreat

Way 2 go Robyn! Share the wealth!
Old Socialist

I think you’re making it all up. You don’t even have the guts to reveal your real name.
Anonymous

You’re deluded. Just because you’re giving the things you steal to charity doesn’t make it right. If you want to help a charity shop, go and volunteer at one.
Carol Miller

Where are the charity shops you take your stuff to? I wanna buy your gear.
Maid Marian

I’ve got a shoplifting tip for you: don’t do it!
Mark, Runcorn

I’m sick of being ripped off by big stores too. They don’t even miss the stuff shoplifters take – they’re insured for it.
Anya, Romford

I work in a clothes shop and it’s people like you who make my job a misery and keep the prices high. Get over yourself.
Lisa

I used to shoplift all the time and I never got caught. I only stopped because I got bored of doing it. Bet you will too one day.
Martina, Worcester

Hey Robyn, I want a brand new PlayStation. Any tips on how to steal one? Where’s the best place to go?
Robin Banks

Some free advice for you: don’t think that you can’t get done before you leave the shop. They can do you for concealing something too, if they catch you putting it in your bag or coat. They argue you clearly intended to steal it. It’s worth remembering this.
Natalie, Barnes

Charity begins at home, not at your local department store.
Megan

‘Oh my God! Oh my God!’ Ruby exclaimed, as she scrolled her way down. She was too excited to stay seated, so she jumped up and paced around her bedroom, in an attempt to burn off the adrenalin that was sparking through her body. Her arms and legs felt tingly and hot; she could barely control them. Who were all those people? How had they found her blog? Why were some of them saying such nasty things about her?

‘Oh my God! Oh my God!’ She needed to talk about it. To tell someone. Who could she call? Only Noah, of course. Had he seen the comments on her blog? Why hadn’t he told her about them? Was he upset with her? Thank goodness she’d got his mobile number from him on the evening they’d kissed. She hadn’t used it until now because she wasn’t sure quite what she felt about him. They’d made no future plans when she’d left his house, and they hadn’t bumped into each other in the street since, which she was glad about because she wasn’t sure what she would have said. At school she’d kept out of his way, not exactly avoiding him, smiling and saying hello, but never stopping long enough to have a proper conversation.

She’d been thinking about him a great deal though, more than she had in years (which wasn’t saying very much, given that she’d hardly thought of him at all since they were kids). All she knew was that she liked him and that she’d enjoyed kissing him, but beyond that, she didn’t know what she wanted from him. He
wasn’t her boyfriend or even a proper friend, at least not in the way that her other friends were. It was difficult to see how that would change. What did they have in common, apart from her blog and the fact they lived in the same street? Yet he was such easy company, and being around him made her feel safe and calm – emotions which she rarely felt when she was with her other friends, or anybody else for that matter. It was because she didn’t have to try with him; she could be herself and he accepted it. Nothing she did or said ever shocked or upset him, or made him stop liking her. He
got
her.

How, she wondered, was it possible that they were the same age, when he seemed so much older and wiser than her? Boys were supposed to be more immature, weren’t they? That was why girls her age went out with boys Ross’s age. But Noah made Ross look like a stupid kid. Ross
was
a stupid kid. If she was honest with herself, she much preferred Noah …