Lisa Heathfield - I Am Not a Number

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

www.egmont.co.uk

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

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Stay safe online. Any website addresses listed in this book are correct at the time of going to print. However, Egmont is not responsible for content hosted by third parties. Please be aware that online content can be subject to change and websites can contain content that is unsuitable for children. We advise that all children are supervised when using the internet.

Egmont takes its responsibility to the planet and its inhabitants very seriously. All the papers we use are from well-managed forests run by responsible suppliers.

For my brother and sisters Philip, Lara, Emma and Anna – for choosing hope and love as your weapons of choice.

Cover

Title Page

Copyright 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 www.egmont.co.uk A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Stay safe online. Any website addresses listed in this book are correct at the time of going to print. However, Egmont is not responsible for content hosted by third parties. Please be aware that online content can be subject to change and websites can contain content that is unsuitable for children. We advise that all children are supervised when using the internet. Egmont takes its responsibility to the planet and its inhabitants very seriously. All the papers we use are from well-managed forests run by responsible suppliers.

Dedication For my brother and sisters Philip, Lara, Emma and Anna – for choosing hope and love as your weapons of choice.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SIX MONTHS LATER

AUTHOR’S NOTE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

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.

‘It’s a bit terrifying.’

‘Do you reckon they’d use their guns?’

‘Why carry them otherwise?’ Destiny says. It should feel odd to be walking along together, but that soldier has looped a strange thread of fear between us.

‘Why do you think they’re here?’ I ask.

‘Apparently it’s to keep us safe.’

‘From what?’

‘Precisely. They’ll blame it on the Core Party, as they always do.’

‘Because of the protests?’

‘They’ll pretend it’s something like that. My mum’s not surprised though. She thought it’d happen as soon as the Traditionals got into power. She’s only surprised that it’s taken them three months.’

I don’t remember seeing Destiny with glasses before. They’re nice. The frames are thin and almost bubble-gum pink against her skin.

‘My stepdad says John Andrews is actually mad,’ I say.

‘Your family didn’t vote for them then?’

I feel vulnerable suddenly. I realise I don’t know for sure what side Destiny is on. Since the election and the new government some people have really shown their true colours.

‘No,’ I tell her, trying to make my voice sound proud in what I believe in.

‘I’m a Core supporter too,’ she says. ‘Although my mum told me I shouldn’t say either way.’ There’s her laugh again. I wonder how it can be so strong when we’re on a street that might have another soldier around the corner. ‘She says we haven’t seen anything yet.’

‘There’s worse to come?’

I watch the cars drive past as they always do when I walk to school. The familiar sounds of their wheels on the road, people leaving their houses, a woman pushing a buggy on the pavement opposite. How much can really change? How much bad can a new government really do?