Larger Font   Reset Font Size   Smaller Font  

Noughts & Crosses

Malorie Blackman



  About the Book

  SPECIAL NEW EDITION INCLUDING AN EYE FOR AN EYE

  Callum is a nought – a second-class citizen in a world run by the ruling Crosses. . .

  Sephy is a Cross, daughter of one of the most powerful men in the country. . .

  In their world, noughts and Crosses simply don’t mix. And as hostility turns to violence, can Callum and Sephy possibly find a way to be together? They are determined to try.

  And then the bomb explodes. . .

  A gripping, stimulating and totally absorbing novel set in a world where black and white are right and wrong.

  In 2003 I wrote a book called An Eye For An Eye as a World Book Day special edition. The story timeline occurs after Noughts & Crosses but before Knife Edge. As the book only had limited availability after the year of its publication and because both I and my publisher have had so many requests for it, the story is now included at the back of this new edition. Enjoy!

  www.kidsatrandomhouse.co.uk/malorieblackman

  By Malorie Blackman and published by Doubleday/Corgi Books:

  The Noughts & Crosses sequence

  NOUGHTS & CROSSES

  KNIFE EDGE

  CHECKMATE

  DOUBLE CROSS

  A.N.T.I.D.O.T.E.

  DANGEROUS REALITY

  DEAD GORGEOUS

  HACKER

  PIG-HEART BOY

  THE DEADLY DARE MYSTERIES

  THE STUFF OF NIGHTMARES

  THIEF!

  UNHEARD VOICES

  (An anthology of short stories and poems,

  collected by Malorie Blackman)

  For junior readers, published by Corgi Yearling Books:

  CLOUD BUSTING

  OPERATION GADGETMAN!

  WHIZZIWIG and WHIZZIWIG RETURNS

  For beginner readers, published by Corgi Pups/Young Corgi Books:

  JACK SWEETTOOTH

  SNOW DOG

  SPACE RACE

  THE MONSTER CRISP-GUZZLER

  Audio editions available on CDs

  NOUGHTS & CROSSES

  KNIFE EDGE

  CHECKMATE

  DOUBLE CROSS

  www.malorieblackman.co.uk

  Praise for the Noughts & Crosses sequence:

  Noughts & Crosses

  ‘Packs some powerful political punches to which readers will undoubtedly respond. But Blackman never compromises the story, which is dramatic, moving and brave’ Guardian

  ‘A book which will linger in the mind long after it has been read and which will challenge children to think again and again about the clichés and stereotypes with which they are presented’ Observer

  Knife Edge

  ‘Devastatingly powerful’ Guardian

  ‘A powerful story of race and prejudice’ Sunday Times

  Checkmate

  ‘Another emotional hard-hitter . . . bluntly told and ingeniously constructed’ Sunday Times

  ‘Blackman is a terrific thriller writer, driving her plots forward with skill and tenacity’ Evening Standard

  Double Cross

  ‘The latest book in Malorie Blackman’s Noughts and Crosses series, and potentially the best one yet’ Independent

  ‘Blackman “gets” people . . . she “gets” humanity as a whole, too. Most of all, she writes a stonking good story’ Guardian

  MALORIE

  BLACKMAN

  Noughts & Crosses

  Special new edition including An Eye for An Eye

  This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Version 1.0

  Epub ISBN 9781407047966

  www.randomhouse.co.uk

  NOUGHTS & CROSSES including An Eye for An Eye

  A CORGI BOOK 978 0 552 55570 8

  First published in Great Britain by Corgi Books,

  an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, 2006

  A RANDOM HOUSE GROUP COMPANY

  NOUGHTS & CROSSES

  First publication in Great Britain by Doubleday, 2001

  Corgi edition published 2002

  Copyright © Oneta Malorie Blackman, 2001

  AN EYE FOR AN EYE

  First published in Great Britain by Corgi Books specially for World Book Day 2003

  Copyright © Oneta Malorie Blackman, 2003

  10

  Copyright © Oneta Malorie Blackman, 2006

  The right of Malorie Blackman to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

  Addresses for companies within The Random House Group Limited can be found at: www.randomhouse.co.uk/offices.htm

  THE RANDOM HOUSE GROUP Limited Reg. No. 954009

  www.kidsatrandomhouse.co.uk

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  About the Author

  By Malorie Blackman

  Praise

  Noughts & Crosses

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  Three Years Later . . .

  one. Sephy

  two. Callum

  three. Sephy

  four. Callum

  five. Sephy

  six. Callum

  seven. Sephy

  eight. Callum

  nine. Sephy

  ten. Callum

  eleven. Sephy

  twelve. Callum

  thirteen. Sephy

  fourteen. Callum

  fifteen. Sephy

  The Turning

  sixteen. Callum

  seventeen. Sephy

  eighteen. Callum

  nineteen. Sephy

  twenty. Callum

  The Picnic

  twenty-one. Sephy

  twenty-two. Callum

  twenty-three. Sephy

  twenty-four. Callum

  Breakdown

  twenty-five. Sephy

  twenty-six. Callum

  twenty-seven. Sephy

  twenty-eight. Callum

  twenty-nine. Sephy

  thirty. Callum

  thirty-one. Sephy

  thirty-two. Callum

  thirty-three. Sephy

  thirty-four. Callum

  thirty-five. Sephy

  thirty-six. Callum

  thirty-seven. Sephy

  thirty-eight. Callum

  thirty-nine. Sephy

  forty. Callum

  forty-one. Sephy

  forty-two. Callum

  The Split

  forty-three. Sephy

  forty-four. Callum

  forty-five. Sephy

  forty-six. Callum

  forty-seven. Sephy

  forty-eight. Callum

  forty-nine. Sephy

  fifty. Callum

  fifty-one. Sephy

  fifty-two. Callum

  fifty-three. Sephy

  fifty-four. Callum

  fifty-five. Sephy

  fifty-six. Callum

  fifty-seven. Sephy

  fifty-eigh
t. Callum

  fifty-nine. Sephy

  sixty. Callum

  sixty-one. Sephy

  sixty-two. Callum

  sixty-three. Sephy

  sixty-four. Callum

  The Trial . . .

  sixty-five. Sephy

  sixty-six. Callum

  sixty-seven. Sephy

  sixty-eight. Callum

  sixty-nine. Sephy

  seventy. Callum

  seventy-one. Sephy

  seventy-two. Callum

  seventy-three. Sephy

  seventy-four. Callum

  The Way It Is . . .

  seventy-five. Sephy

  seventy-six. Callum

  seventy-seven. Sephy

  seventy-eight. Callum

  seventy-nine. Sephy

  eighty. Callum

  eighty-one. Sephy

  eighty-two. Callum

  eighty-three. Sephy

  eighty-four. Callum

  eighty-five. Sephy

  eighty-six. Callum

  eighty-seven. Sephy

  eighty-eight. Callum

  The Hostage . . .

  eighty-nine. Sephy

  ninety. Callum

  ninety-one. Sephy

  ninety-two. Callum

  ninety-three. Sephy

  ninety-four. Callum

  ninety-five. Sephy

  ninety-six. Callum

  ninety-seven. Sephy

  ninety-eight. Callum

  ninety-nine. Sephy

  one hundred. Callum

  one hundred and one. Sephy

  one hundred and two. Callum

  one hundred and three. Sephy

  The Confession . . .

  one hundred and four. Callum

  one hundred and five. Sephy

  one hundred and six. Callum

  one hundred and seven. Sephy

  one hundred and eight. Callum

  one hundred and nine. Sephy

  one hundred and ten. Callum

  one hundred and eleven. Sephy

  one hundred and twelve. Callum

  one hundred and thirteen. Sephy

  Decisions . . .

  one hundred and fourteen. Callum

  one hundred and fifteen. Sephy

  Losing My Religion . . .

  one hundred and sixteen. Callum

  one hundred and seventeen. Sephy

  This book is dedicated with love to my husband, Neil,

  And to our daughter, Elizabeth

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  The African-American scientists, inventors and pioneers mentioned in chapter 30 are all real people and their achievements are very real. When I was at school, we didn’t learn about any of them – except Robert Peary, the white European-American explorer. I wish we had done. But then, if we had, maybe I wouldn’t have written this book…

  ‘That’s just the way it is.

  Some things will never change.

  That’s just the way it is.

  But don’t you believe them.’

  BRUCE HORNSBY AND THE RANGE

  PROLOGUE

  ‘Honestly, Mrs Hadley,’ said Meggie McGregor, wiping her eyes. ‘That sense of humour of yours will be the death of me yet!’

  Jasmine Hadley allowed herself a rare giggle. ‘The things I tell you, Meggie. It’s lucky we’re such good friends!’

  Meggie’s smile wavered only slightly. She looked out across the vast lawn at Callum and Sephy. Her son and her employer’s daughter. They were good friends playing together. Real good friends. No barriers. No boundaries. Not yet anyway. It was a typical early summer’s day, light and bright and, in the Hadley household anyway, not a cloud in their sky.

  ‘Excuse me, Mrs Hadley.’ Sarah Pike, Mrs Hadley’s secretary, approached from the house. She had shoulder-length straw-coloured hair and timid green eyes which appeared permanently startled. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you but your husband has just arrived. He’s in the study.’

  ‘Kamal is here?’ Mrs Hadley was astounded. ‘Thank you, Sarah.’ She turned to Meggie. ‘His fourth visit home in as many months! We’re honoured!’

  Meggie smiled sympathetically, making sure to keep her mouth well and truly shut. No way was she going to get in the middle of another inevitable squabble between Kamal Hadley and his wife. Mrs Hadley stood up and made her way into the house.

  ‘So, Sarah, how is Mr Hadley?’ Meggie lowered her voice to ask. ‘Is he in a good mood, d’you think?’

  Sarah shook her head. ‘He looks about ready to blow a fuse.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘No idea.’

  Meggie digested this news in silence.

  ‘I’d better get back to work,’ Sarah sighed.

  ‘Would you like something to drink?’ Meggie pointed to the jug of ginger beer on the patio table.

  ‘No, thanks. I don’t want to get into trouble . . .’ With obvious trepidation, Sarah went back into the house.

  What was she afraid of? Meggie sighed. No matter how hard she tried, Sarah insisted on keeping her distance. Meggie turned back to watch the children. Life was so simple for them. Their biggest worry was what they’d get for their birthdays. Their biggest grumble was the time they had to go to bed. Maybe things would be different for them . . . Better. Meggie forced herself to believe that things would be better for the children, otherwise what was the point of it all?

  On those rare occasions when she had a moment to herself, she couldn’t help but play ‘what if’ games. Not the big ‘what if’s that her husband sometimes liked to indulge in, like, ‘What if a virus wiped out every single Cross and not a single nought?’ or ‘What if there was a revolution and all the Crosses were overthrown? Killed. Wiped off the face of the planet.’ No, Meggie McGregor didn’t believe in wasting her time on big, global fantasies. Her dreams were more specific, more unattainable than that. Her dreams were all around one subject. What if Callum and Sephy . . .? What if Sephy and Callum . . .?

  Meggie felt a peculiar, burning sensation on the back of her neck. She turned to find Mr Hadley standing on the patio, watching her with the strangest expression on his face.

  ‘Is everything all right, Mr Hadley?’

  ‘No. But I’ll survive.’ Mr Hadley moved forward to the patio table to stand over Meggie. ‘You were deep in thought there. Penny for them?’

  Flustered by his presence, Meggie began, ‘I was just thinking about my son and your daughter. Wouldn’t it be nice if…?’ Appalled, she bit back the rest of the sentence, but it was too late.

  ‘What would be nice?’ Mr Hadley prompted, silkily.

  ‘If they could . . . could always stay as they are now.’ At Mr Hadley’s raised eyebrows, Meggie rushed on. ‘At this age, I mean. They’re so wonderful at this age – children, I mean. So . . . so . . .’

  ‘Yes, indeed.’

  Pause.

  Kamal Hadley sat down. Mrs Hadley emerged from the kitchen to lean against the door frame. She had a strange, wary expression on her face. Meggie felt nervous. She started to get to her feet.

  ‘I understand you had a wonderful time yesterday.’ Mr Hadley smiled at Meggie.

  ‘A . . . a wonderful time?’

  ‘Yesterday evening?’ Mr Hadley prompted.

  ‘Yes. It was quite quiet really . . .’ Meggie replied, confused. She looked from Mr to Mrs Hadley and back again. Mrs Hadley was watching her intently. What was going on? The temperature in the garden had dropped by several degrees and despite his smiles, Mr Hadley was obviously furious at something – or someone. Meggie swallowed hard. Had she done something wrong? She didn’t think so, but God only knew that being around Crosses was like walking on eggshells.

  ‘So what did you do?’ Mr Hadley prompted.

  ‘P-pardon?’

  ‘Last night?’ Mr Hadley’s smile was very friendly. Too friendly.

  ‘I . . . we stayed home and watched telly,’ Meggie said slowly.

  ‘It’s nice to have a relaxing evening at home with your own family,’ Mr Hadley agree
d.

  Meggie nodded. What did he expect her to say to that? What was going on? Mr Hadley stood up, his smile now a thing of the past. He walked over to his wife. They both stood just watching each other as the seconds ticked by. Mrs Hadley began to straighten up. Without warning, Mr Hadley slapped his wife full across the face. The force of the blow sent Mrs Hadley’s head snapping backwards to strike against the door frame.

  Meggie was on her feet in a second, her horrified gasp audible, her hand out in silent protest. Kamal Hadley gave his wife a look of such contempt and loathing that Mrs Hadley flinched back from it. Without a word passing between them, Mr Hadley went back into the house. Meggie was at Mrs Hadley’s side in an instant.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Meggie’s hand went out to examine the side of Mrs Hadley’s face.

  Mrs Hadley knocked her hand away. With a puzzled frown, Meggie tried again. The same thing happened.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ Mrs Hadley hissed at her. ‘When I needed your help, you didn’t give it.’

  ‘I . . . what…?’ And only then did Meggie realize what she’d done. Mrs Hadley had obviously used Meggie as an alibi for the previous night and Meggie had been too slow to pick up on what Kamal Hadley had really been asking her.

  Meggie’s hand dropped back to her side. ‘I think I should get back to work . . .’

  ‘Yes, I think that would be best.’ Mrs Hadley’s look was venomous before she turned and walked back into the house.

  Meggie turned around. Callum and Sephy were still playing at the other end of the vast garden, oblivious to everything that had just happened. She stood and watched them, trying to capture for herself some small part of their pure joy in each other. She needed something good to hold on to. But even the distant sound of their laughter couldn’t dampen down the deep sense of foreboding creeping through her. What would happen now?

  That night, Meggie sat at the table sewing patches over the patches in Jude’s school trousers.

  ‘Meggie, I’m sure you’re worrying about nothing,’ Ryan, her husband sighed.

  ‘Ryan, you didn’t see the look on her face. I did.’ Meggie bit off the thread and picked up another patch. Jude’s school trousers were more patch than original material.

  The phone started to ring. Meggie picked it up before the first ring had even died away.