Lifted (12 page)

There was just too much to think about. Her brain was beginning to hurt. Before she could change her mind, she found Noah’s number in her address book and pressed
Call
. She had butterflies in her tummy, which she thought weird, because calling Noah really shouldn’t have made her nervous.

‘Hey!’ she said, when he picked up.

‘Hey Ruby, how are you?’ he said. He sounded flustered, and that made her feel jittery too.

‘I’m OK,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Listen, have you seen my blog? It’s all gone mental.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I haven’t looked at it since … Not for a while, anyway. What’s happened?’

‘Just look!’

‘OK, OK,’ he said. ‘I’m logging in now. Hang on a second … Wow! You have so many followers. Where did they all come from?’

‘I don’t have a clue! I thought you might know something.’

‘Nothing to do with me, I promise,’ he said. ‘I haven’t told anyone anything.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Jeez, I’ve just read some of the comments! They’re a bit full-on.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Ruby said. ‘A bit nasty and scary. They can’t find out who I am or where I live, can they?’

‘Course not,’ said Noah. ‘There’s no way. I’ve got it all encrypted for you.’

‘Phew,’ she said, allowing herself to be reassured, even though she wasn’t certain what encrypted meant. ‘Thanks. Where did they all come from? I mean, why are they reading my blog?’

‘I dunno. I can find out exactly for you if you like.’

‘Yeah, how?’

‘By … It’s techie stuff. Don’t think you want to know. Honestly.’

She giggled. ‘I guess not.’

‘It’s probably key words. Thinking about it, that
Robin Hood film is about to come out, isn’t it? Robin Hood stuff is everywhere.’

‘I didn’t think of that. So they all think my blog is something to do with the film?’

‘Maybe. Hey, people could think it’s some sort of viral marketing campaign. They must be really confused.’

‘Yeah.’ She laughed again. ‘They’re looking for Sherwood Forest and they get our local high street.’ She paused for thought. ‘God, Noah, it’s weird knowing all those strangers have read what I wrote and are judging me. I think some of them really hate my guts.’

‘They’re just nutters. Ignore them. And look, some of them think you’re great. Did you read this one? It’s from someone called Charley. He cleared his throat.
I love your blog,
she says,
I shoplift too and you totally understand how I feel. I don’t feel so alone now
.’

‘Wow!’ Ruby said. ‘I didn’t think I was actually helping people. That’s cool.’

‘Yeah, and this one … They don’t give a name.
Stealing gives me a lift too. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop. I don’t even want the stuff. Now I’ve read your blog, I’m going to take it all down to the charity shop tomorrow
.’

‘I’m an inspiration!’ said Ruby, in a self-mocking tone, although she was beaming inside. She liked having that much attention, even if nobody knew who she was. ‘That’s so weird. Oh my God.’ She couldn’t help grinning. ‘So how are you, Noah?’

‘I’m good,’ he said. ‘I’m fine. I haven’t seen you
around much this week. What have you been up to?’

‘Oh you know, this and that.’

‘Right,’ he said.

‘But none of
that
,’ she added. ‘I really have been trying.’

‘That’s great,’ he said. He sounded happy for her. ‘I knew you could do it.’ There was a silence. ‘Uh, about the other night … I was hoping we’d bump into each other …’

Ruby felt her face glow hot. ‘I know. I guess we’ve both been busy.’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Probably. I would have called you, but I realised you didn’t give me your number when I gave you mine. I should have asked. Anyway, I’ve got it now … I was going to say … Listen, what are you up to?’

‘You mean now?’ she asked.

‘Yeah. It’s just, I don’t know if you want to … I was wondering if … Do you want to come round?’

‘I don’t know. I mean, I was just about to write a blog entry,’ she said, truthfully. To her surprise, going round to Noah’s struck her as an appealing idea. She didn’t want an excuse not to go. ‘But it won’t take long,’ she added. ‘Give me half an hour.’

It was strange writing for an audience, instead of only for herself. It made her self-conscious about which words she used and, for the first time, she felt she didn’t know where to start. Conscious of the time, she decided just to bash something out. People would think whatever they
wanted to think, anyway. They always do. Instead of what really happened at Zenda, she wrote what she imagined would have happened had that expedition been successful. It was a short piece of fiction, based partially on reality, a bit like doing her English language coursework. She wondered what her English teacher would think were she to hand in her blog one day. What a way to confess that would be! She felt a bit of a fraud for lying, but it was her blog and she could write whatever she wanted, couldn’t she? If thousands of people were reading it now, it wouldn’t be fair to disappoint them by admitting she’d been caught, that it had terrified her, and so she wasn’t planning to shoplift again. But she didn’t put in as much detail as usual, for fear of tripping herself up (and, more trivially, because she wanted to make sure she had time to redo her make-up before she went round to see Noah). When she’d finished, she felt satisfied and full of anticipation for the comments she might receive. Noah will understand why I’ve lied, she told herself. And isn’t lying better than stealing?

He was very understanding, although the truth was they didn’t do much talking. Somehow, within minutes of arriving at Noah’s house, Ruby found herself kissing him again. Or maybe it was he who kissed her. Either way, this time Ruby couldn’t make any excuses. While kissing someone once could be called an accident, doing it twice means you must really like them.

I steal from expensive stores and give to charity shops

March 24

I’m getting better at this. Better and bolder. The other day, I went into one of those really posh shops, the ones where everything is made of silk and leather and cashmere, and where all the customers have swishy, glossy hair with highlights, and perfect nails with matching lipstick, and I took two tops. One of them was a bright apple-green blouse with a pussy bow, and the other one was a wine-red coloured tunic, with purple and pink winter roses splattered all over it. They were both made from pure silk and were crazily expensive for tops, and I have no idea when anybody would wear them, but they felt so soft and so smooth, and they even smelled expensive, which would make you want them anyway. I knew I couldn’t resist them, even though if I’d put either of them on I’d have looked like I was a kid who’d raided the dressing-up box.

I was in and out of the shop in ten minutes, the tops folded neatly in my bag. The tags weren’t hard to get off; they were the type you can deactivate with a magnet. I decided to split them between two of my favourite charity shops, telling each of them the same story about how my mum had bought a top for a posh do, but had put on so much
weight she couldn’t wear it any more. Like all the best lies, it was almost true: Mum is always getting rid of clothes because she’s put on weight. It’s all those cakes and biscuits she bakes for everyone; she says she never eats them herself, but I’ve seen her scoffing the broken bits (she tells herself they don’t count because they’re not actual biscuits). Mum hates getting rid of her clothes. She’ll keep them for a couple of years first, in the hopes that she’ll get back into them, but she never does.

The charity shops were very grateful for ‘Mum’s weight gain’ – the volunteer at the sick animals shop put the applegreen blouse straight on the mannequin in the window. She said she could probably sell it for fifteen quid. The tunic with roses on has been priced at twelve. Job done.

Posted by Robyn Hood at 9:32 PM
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When Ruby woke up on Monday morning, she was a celebrity, although she didn’t yet know it. Over the weekend, a national newspaper journalist had found out about the growing popularity of Robyn Hood’s blog and written an article blaming young people like her for all society’s ills. Maybe it was a good thing she didn’t see it, because it called her ‘morally vacant’, ‘deluded’ and ‘in serious need of discipline and education’. Within hours, almost a hundred thousand people had looked at her blog. By Monday, other papers had picked up on the story, and it had begun to be discussed on the radio and on TV. Ruby’s mum, who had the day off work, actually heard one of the broadcasts as she made lunch, although she was, of course, totally oblivious to the fact that it was about her daughter, or that the blog in question was
produced in the room directly above her head.

‘And today, listeners, we’re talking about shoplifting. A mystery teenage blogger who claims to steal from expensive stores and give her spoils to charity shops is generating furious debate. Do you think that she’s a modern day Robin Hood? Is she deluded? Why, as a government report revealed last week, is shoplifting on the rise? Have you ever done it? Did you get caught? Call in now with your stories and views.’

Interesting, thought Pam Collins, only half-listening as she scraped butter across a slice of toast and planned her afternoon activities. She was going to have her hair done and she had a dentist’s appointment, and she also needed to pop into the supermarket, and pay in a cheque.

Ruby’s dad heard a similar radio phone-in show as he drove up the motorway to a conference. He had stopped off at a service station for a coffee and only tuned into the discussion halfway through.

‘
So what you’re saying is that if you give what you’ve stolen to a good cause, it’s OK?
’ said the presenter.

‘
Yeah, it’s for charity, innit?
’ said a man with a deep voice.

‘
But surely being charitable means donating your own possessions, not those that belong to someone else? I’ll remind you, the blogger who calls herself Robyn Hood is shoplifting and then giving the goods to charity shops to ease her own conscience.
’

‘
Yeah,
’ said the man. ‘
It’s cos it’s all so expensive, right?
’

‘
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?’