I Am Not a Number. Lisa Heathfield
either the Traditionals or the Core Party. You will wear that band at all times.’
There’s not even a murmur. Two hundred silent students. I glance around, but everyone just stares at the front.
Two soldiers appear from the side door carrying a box each. And both are carrying guns slung over their shoulders. They put the boxes on a table. Across the front of one there’s the red slash against the green of the Trads, the other has a rectangle of purple with four yellow upward steps. One soldier slices a knife across the top of one box, then the other.
‘The decision of which band you choose must be your own,’ Chris Stewart says from the front. ‘Don’t be influenced by your friends. And if your parents were foolish enough to vote for the Core Party, know that you don’t have to follow them. They may be frightened of change, but this is your chance to stand up to them, to be your own person. Break free of their chains.’
‘What an idiot,’ Luke whispers so quietly that it’s probably only me who hears it.
‘The front row first,’ Chris Stewart says. No one moves until he points to the girl on the end. ‘You,’ he says. ‘Come and choose your band. The rest will follow in silence.’
She’s a new girl. I don’t know her name, but she goes straight to the Traditionals’ box. She reaches in, pulls out an elasticated green band and pulls it over her school jumper to the top of her arm, turning it so that the red slash is clearly visible. Chris Stewart pats her on the back and she smiles up at him as though he’s some sort of hero or something.
It’s Shaun Williams next and he doesn’t even hesitate before he chooses the Trads. Then James and Ashwar from my tutor group and Tristan. He’s not laughing now as he pulls the green band up his arm.
I don’t know if they all really want to, or if it’s the men holding guns behind them that make them do it.
Sara is first in the second row. I know her mum voted for the Trads as she wanted a change. She said other governments had led us nowhere and she wanted to give someone else a chance. Her dad couldn’t decide so he hadn’t voted. But Sara? She’s been my best mate since our first day in this school and her head is screwed on right.
She gets to the front and hesitates. She looks at Stewart who watches her, before she walks past the Core’s box and puts her hand into the one for the Trads. I drop my head down. Luke reaches over for my hand and this time he doesn’t let go.
I don’t want to see any more of it. I don’t want to believe that it’s happening. So I close my eyes. Are they doing this with Year Eight? Are they going to make my sister choose?
‘I’m not ashamed.’ The voice that makes me look up is Conor’s. He’s pulling a purple Core Party band up his arm, positioning it so that the yellow steps are visible for everyone to see.
‘Ignorance is not something to be proud of,’ Chris Stewart says, glaring at him. I think Conor is going to say something else, but the soldiers with the guns stand straight and he walks back to his seat.
There are a handful of people in the rows in front who have the purple band. The logo of the steps are meant to represent walking up to a brighter, better future, yet not enough people seem to be listening. Or are they just scared? I wish my dad was here, as he’d tell them not to be intimidated. But he lives so far away now that he might not even know this is going on.
It’s my turn. Our line stands up and I follow Jen along the length of chairs. Luke is behind me. The air, all of the sounds, seem to have been sucked from the room as we walk to the front. I can’t tell which I feel more – defiance or fear. But there’s never any doubt about which I’ll choose.
I don’t look at the soldiers, at their empty eyes and loaded guns, as I pull the purple band over my wrist and the sleeve of my jumper. The material it’s made of is stretchy and clings to my arm. I twist it so that the steps face out and as I walk back to my seat I keep my head held high. I look calm, but if you sliced me open now you’d see my heart struggling to keep up with its beating.
I sit down and for a while I don’t look at Luke. I know his dad is a strong Core supporter as he goes to meetings with my mum and my step-dad, Darren. And I know Luke’s thoughts and that he’d want to choose that. But did he? With bullets so close by, did he stay strong to his beliefs?
‘Look at me, Rube,’ he whispers. I do. He has a purple band on his arm.
I want to smile, but I can’t.
In the corridor, everyone is strangely quiet. No one quite looks in each other’s eyes.
‘I want to find Lilli,’ I say to Luke. ‘She’s normally in the canteen at first break.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Luke says, putting his hand in mine. I try not to see people’s arms, but there are far, far more green bands than purple. I’ve never felt vulnerable in school before, but I do now. It almost feels like being dropped in the sea and circled by sharks. I have to remind myself that everyone is just the same as they were this morning. No one has really changed.
At least it feels normal in the canteen. It’s not as busy in here as it is at lunchtime, but there’re still lots of people talking and plates being thumped on to trays. Luke and I walk past tables, towards the one where Lilli and her friends are huddled together. They’re the girls she came up from primary school with. The Tight-Knits they used to call themselves, before other kids took the mick.
Lilli is laughing but stops the moment she looks at me. She moves her arm back, but I’ve already seen the green band.
‘She chose the Trads,’ I say to Luke, pulling him to slow down. He looks confused, but when he glances at Lilli I know he sees it too.
‘Ruby,’ he says, putting his hands on my shoulders. ‘She would’ve felt alone in there and just copied her friends.’
‘But she’s not a Trad.’
‘I know. But this is what they want to happen. They want Core families to rip themselves apart, so they can show proof that we’re the bad ones.’
‘Darren’ll be furious.’
‘He won’t. He’ll understand,’ Luke says. ‘And if she falls out with him then she’ll need you by her side.’ He bends down to kiss me. ‘You can do this.’
My sister’s table is completely quiet when we get to it.
‘Hey, Lils,’ I say, hating the fact that my voice sounds so forced happy. ‘You okay?’
‘Yes,’ she says, but she doesn’t look it.
‘What are you eating?’
‘Just a doughnut.’
Her skinny arm has that green armband clamped round it, but I concentrate on looking at her face instead.
‘Enjoy it,’ I say. ‘I just wanted to check you’re all right.’
‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Good. Love you, Chicken Bones,’ I tell her, faking a smile. She doesn’t make a fuss that I just called her that in front of her friends. Instead, she looks like she might cry, which’ll be far more embarrassing for her than some stupid nickname. So I pull Luke away with me.
As we walk out of the canteen I look around. Hannah Maynard has a green band on. Her boyfriend, Tre, who I know is a Core, has a Trad band glaring from his arm. By the door we pass Hunter Melville. He’s kind of like the boss of Year Eight. He puts his arm out to show me as we walk by. A Core. I smile at him, genuine now. At least there are bits of surprising light in this grim day.
I don’t see Sara again until lesson four. I’ve wanted to text her, but Mr Edwards has clamped down on phones so bad recently that I don’t want to risk him taking mine for a few days. Sara’s sitting in her usual seat, the empty chair next to her waiting for me.
‘Hey,’ she says.
‘Hey