Lifted (15 page)

‘I think I’m going to hand myself in,’ joked Amanda.

‘Me too,’ said Hanni. ‘We should go together, say we’re both Robyn Hood.’

Ruby shifted uncomfortably in her chair and pretended to be dozing. She could cope with situations like this by detaching herself from Robyn and telling herself they were talking about somebody else, which, in a way, they were. She was starting to grow used to the intense public interest in her blog. It no longer fazed her, or upset her. She found it exhilarating. Hungry for coverage, she now read the papers religiously online, and pored over her mum’s copy at the kitchen table, (Pam was delighted to see that Ruby was finally taking an interest in current affairs), and listened to the radio whenever she was in her bedroom. She’d changed her radio alarm setting from a pure music station to one with phone-ins and discussions. If there was no mention of Robyn Hood, she felt a pang of disappointment.

But, at the same time, she was also beginning to feel paranoid, certain that at any moment she would be found out. She didn’t believe that the police would be lenient with her, whatever they said. Whenever she wrote her blog – and it was becoming harder to think of things to say, now that she was relying almost entirely on her imagination – she felt anxious about posting it. If a car drove down her street while she was writing it, or she heard voices outside, it would make her jittery.

Since she had absolutely no idea how the internet
worked, she surmised that there must be invisible wires coming out of her computer, which passed through the roof of her house, were beamed into space, and eventually connected to a great big supercomputer, a hub, somewhere in the world. She assumed that the messages sent down these wires could be tracked, perhaps by satellite, or infra-red or some other sort of technology she’d seen used in a film. That meant that the authorities could identify her location within minutes and they could then send the secret services to swoop in through the windows and arrest her. Well, maybe not that last bit – that would be a bit over the top to catch a shoplifter – but they could alert the police and give them her name and address, anyway.

Noah told her it really didn’t work like that – for one thing, the server wasn’t based in her house – but she wouldn’t be convinced. So he told her he could ensure nobody would ever catch up with her blog or track her down.

‘How?’ she asked. She knew she was unlikely to understand the explanation, but it seemed ungrateful not to appear interested.

‘I can just keep changing your IP address and move from server to server,’ he said. ‘I’ll make lots of mirror versions of your blog using different servers. Then, if I need to, I can shut down one IP address and move it to another one, which will already be active.’

‘Right,’ said Ruby. He might as well have told her
that he was going to put her blog on a rocket, fly it to Mars and translate it into Martian. ‘That sounds good. And no one will ever be able to find out where I’m writing it from or who I am?’

‘Not if you don’t want them to,’ he said. ‘I promise.’

‘OK,’ she said, half-heartedly. ‘How do you know all this techie stuff? Who taught you how to do it?’

‘No one, I taught myself. And I swap tips with people, so I’m always learning. It’s not as difficult as you might think.’

‘Yeah, right. I don’t think so – not with my brain,’ she said. ‘So that thing you’re always working on, you know, your project, what exactly is it?’

Noah hesitated. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t say. It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just really big, it could get me into tons of trouble.’

She looked at him quizzically. ‘More trouble than I could get into?’

‘Way, way more trouble. They could lock me up for it big time.’

‘Seriously, Noah?’ Ruby didn’t want to show it, but she found the idea of Noah doing something risky, something illegal, rather thrilling. It made him seem intriguing, a little bit James Bond. She’d always thought he was super-straight and sensible.

‘Yes, seriously. One hundred percent seriously.’

‘So what are you doing? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.’

He swallowed hard. ‘OK, if you really want to know, I’ve found a way of hacking into websites. I’ve exposed all these security gaps, especially in the bank ones. If I wanted to, I could steal thousands of pounds.’

Oh my God, thought Ruby, we’re not so different after all. ‘Wow!’ she said. ‘That’s scary.’

‘Yeah. I’m trying to figure out the best way to reveal what I’ve found, without getting myself into deep trouble. Because if I’m doing it, you can bet someone else will be too.’

Ruby took his hand. She had the urge to kiss him, but things had been a little awkward in that department since she’d asked if they could cool their relationship. ‘Don’t worry, I swear I won’t tell anyone.’ It was a such a shame she couldn’t, she thought, because that kind of information would definitely change her friends’ opinions of Noah. It would make Amanda’s eyes pop out of her head!

He smiled. ‘Thanks. I can’t believe I’ve told you. But it actually feels good to have said it out loud.’

‘Hey, maybe you should write a blog about it!’

He laughed. ‘I think I’ll leave the words to you. I’ll stick with the numbers.’

‘So what are you going to do?’

‘I don’t know yet. I’m working on it. You?’

‘God knows. Sorry to ask again but, Noah, you are sure that my blog is safe?’

‘Yes, I swear.’

She should have felt reassured, but she didn’t. The problem was, a big part of her
wanted
someone to find out who she really was. It had begun to dawn on her that she’d never enjoy any of the benefits of her blog’s popularity unless people knew her real name. Robyn Hood was famous (or perhaps that should be infamous), but Ruby Collins was still a nobody, just a schoolgirl with an anxious mother, a rubbish dad, friends she couldn’t entirely trust, and a super-complicated love life. She knew that soon people would grow tired of Robyn Hood and move on to the next thing. That’s what always happened. So maybe this was her only chance to be someone? But if she did reveal herself, everybody would know that she was a thief. Her parents would be devastated and blame themselves, and her friends would hate her for not trusting them enough to confide in them. Plus, if she ended up with a criminal record she might not be able to go to university or get a good job.

It was, Ruby thought, a bit like admiring a scene inside a snow globe and knowing that, however much you want to, you can never be a part of it. You’ll never be tiny enough to fit inside the glass, and even if you manage to shrink yourself down, trying to climb in would make it shatter into tiny pieces.

It made her feel restless and confused and, when she walked past the shops on her way home from school, she started to get that itchy sensation again, the one that made her want to go in and steal something.

I steal from expensive stores and give to charity shops

April 16

The newspapers are trying to find me. All I’ve got to say to them is: Blog Off.

Everyone seems to have a different idea about who I am. People are playing detective games, trying to piece together the ‘clues’ from my blog to find out my identity. But how do you know that any of what I’ve told you so far is the truth? Maybe I’m not a girl, but a boy, or a man. Maybe I’m 21 or 52 or 73. Maybe I steal things but don’t give them to charity shops. Maybe I’ve never stolen anything at all in my life. Maybe I only said I wore a school uniform because I’m weird like that, or because I was going to a fancy-dress party. Maybe I’m actually a university student or a business woman. I could even be a teacher, or the Prime Minister. OK, probably not the Prime Minister but, hey, I might be already famous, too famous to write a blog using my real name. So famous that if I was caught shoplifting, my life would be over. Just think what people would say if it turned out I was an actor or a TV presenter?

What I don’t get is, why do people care? Why does it
matter to you who I am or what I am? It never did before. And do you know what’s funny? I bet if you really did know my identity, you wouldn’t be interested in me at all.

Posted by Robyn Hood at 2.05 PM
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‘
It’s seven-fifteen a.m. and you’re listening to Sunshine Radio. We’re delighted to say that we’ve got Robyn Hood on the line today. Yes, you heard right, THE Robyn Hood. She said she’s a fan of the show and she’s chosen to get in touch with US here at Sunshine Radio! Hello, Robyn, thanks so much for joining me.
’

‘
Hi, Graham.
’

‘
So how does it feel to finally go public?
’

‘
It feels great! I’m so glad to talk to you. I’ve had enough of hiding. I want to get out there and show the world who I am.
’

‘
Let’s get back to basics. Tell me, Robyn, why did you decide to start writing your blog
?’

‘
I did it because I wanted people to know how exciting it is to rip off the shops …
’

Ruby thought she must be in the middle of a nightmare. Robyn Hood was talking on the radio but she didn’t sound like herself at all. Her voice was much higher in tone – a little squeaky to be frank – and she was saying things she would never have said. Things like, ‘
I’d love to have my own range in charity shops one day, that’s a cool idea, Graham
’ and ‘
Sure, I might think about posing for one of the men’s magazines with only a bow and arrow, as long as it was tasteful
’. But this couldn’t be a nightmare because her eyes were open, and her arm felt numb because she’d been lying on it, and she could see light streaming in through the gap in the curtains. It couldn’t be a nightmare because she was fully conscious, aware that she was lying in bed, and she could tell that her mouth wasn’t moving, even though the voice kept talking. ‘
I’m nineteen, really
,’ it was saying. ‘
Saying I was a schoolgirl was a red herring. I was teasing people, you know …
’

‘Oh God!’ Ruby wrenched her duvet away from her body and threw it from her bed on to the floor. ‘Shut up! Shut up!’ She wanted to make the voice stop but she also felt compelled to listen to it. This was worse than any nightmare. Somebody was hijacking her blog live on the radio, pretending to be her, and worse, changing everyone’s opinions about her. If the radio station believed the girl they were interviewing was Robyn Hood – and hadn’t they done any proper checks? – then so would the listeners. She knew it was partly her own fault for putting misleading information in her blog,
information that meant anybody could now justifiably claim to be Robyn Hood. But she’d only done that to make a point, to protect herself. Instead, she was losing control of her own identity, of her ‘brand’ – for that was what Robyn Hood had become. There were even new blogs springing up all over the web, purporting to be written by Robyn Hood. Soon, nobody would remember which was the original one. And who would care?

Ruby was running late for school, but that didn’t matter. She couldn’t leave things as they were. Hurriedly, she logged into her blog and, in huge capital letters typed.

I AM THE REAL ROBYN HOOD. THE ONLY ONE. I WAS NOT ON SUNSHINE RADIO THIS MORNING. I HAVE NEVER BEEN ON ANY RADIO STATION OR ANY TV SHOW. WHOEVER THAT GIRL WAS, SHE WAS A FAKE.

THIS IS MY ONLY BLOG. IGNORE THE OTHERS. PLEASE DON’T BELIEVE ANYTHING YOU READ IN THE PAPERS OR HEAR ON THE RADIO ABOUT ME. I AM A GIRL. I AM FIFTEEN YEARS OLD. I STILL GO TO SCHOOL. I PROMISE I WILL TELL YOU MORE ABOUT ME WHEN I’M READY. SOON.

After typing and posting her message, she felt so wound up, she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She
paced around her bedroom a few times, then climbed into the shower and stood under the stream of hot water until her skin was red and blotchy. She looked at her watch: it was almost eight o’clock. She wasn’t dressed, she hadn’t had breakfast, and Hanni would be waiting for her. Maybe she wouldn’t go to school after all. It was pointless; there was no way she’d be able to concentrate.

She texted Hanni:
Gt period pn. Cvr 4 me. CU ltr
. Then she put on her school uniform anyway, because there was no way her mum would let her off school, not unless she had a temperature of a hundred and five, or was covered in boils, or was coughing up her lungs (or probably, all three at once). She’d make out that she was going to school as usual, hang out somewhere for a while, and then, when she was sure Mum had gone to work, she’d go back home. She looked out of the window. Noah had just left his house and was walking down his garden path, with his horrible brown nylon rucksack strapped to his back. He turned and looked up at her, and waved.

‘Wait!’ she mouthed.

He stopped, suddenly, and his rucksack bounced awkwardly, jarring against him. Even from the vantage point of her bedroom window, Ruby could tell he looked surprised and confused. Although he didn’t like it, he’d accepted that he and Ruby wouldn’t walk to school together because she always had to go with
Hanni. Now, he’d be wondering whether she’d changed her mind, and why.

‘I’m coming down,’ she motioned. ‘Wait for me, please!’ She grabbed her school bag and rushed down the stairs, two at a time. ‘Mum,’ she shouted, as she opened the front door, ‘I’m running late, I haven’t got time for breakfast this morning. Gotta go, sorry! Bye!’ Before her mother had a chance to reply, she had slammed the door shut behind her.

‘Hey, what’s up?’ said Noah, as she approached him. He kissed her on the cheek and they hugged. ‘Is everything OK?’

‘Not really, I’m in a bit of a state,’ she said. She wondered if he’d noticed that she hadn’t even straightened her hair, like she usually did. She must have looked terrible. ‘Thanks for waiting for me. Have you got a couple of minutes?’ He nodded. ‘Can we just go round the corner, so Mum can’t see us? I’m not going to school this morning.’

They sat on a wall outside someone’s house and she told him about the fake Robyn Hood on the radio, and the fake bloggers, and her fears that she was now losing control of her own blog. She didn’t tell him she was also afraid she was losing control of herself, that she was feeling the urge to shoplift again. ‘It’s really getting me down and I don’t know what to do about it,’ she said. ‘I don’t want other people getting famous because of my blog. I want people to know about me, who I am. I’m
the one who wrote it. It’s all my thoughts and feelings.’