I Am Not a Number. Lisa Heathfield

Sydney Street, next to the park. I stretch out my legs and have to shuffle up a bit so my feet don’t press into the chair. The biscuit is definitely stale.

      ‘Eugh,’ I say, as I drop the rest of it back into the tin. ‘It’s bendy.’

      ‘They’re meant to be,’ Luke says, his pencil in his mouth as he straightens his sketchbook. ‘They’re called bendy biscuits.’

      He looks up at me and it’s always in this moment that he sees me differently. I’m not just Ruby. I’m sort of more than me. I’m every line, every shadow that makes up the person I am. All my imperfections too. My nose that could be straighter, my eyes that I wish were brown. The strange splodge of a birthmark above my knee that is clear as anything with my skirt like this.

      ‘Hang on,’ I say and I have to move a bit to get the Core band I threw on the floor. I pull it over my head and it squeezes tight over my eyes, before I leave it around my mouth.

      ‘You’re not going to be able to breathe,’ Luke says, but I shrug. ‘Or speak.’ I pull the band back up until it rests on my forehead.

      ‘Good point,’ I say.

      ‘Ready now?’

      ‘Yup.’

      I’m hoping that me lying here like this might distract him enough from his drawing, but my luck’s not in. I could lie here naked and he’d probably still just study me and scribble away, detached yet somehow more involved all in the same moment. Maybe one day I really will strip off completely. See if he manages to keep his concentration then.

      ‘Darren says the Core supporters are planning big demonstrations about the Trads wanting to close our borders,’ I say. ‘He won’t let me go to any though, which isn’t fair if your dad takes you to them.’

      ‘Mm.’

      ‘I reckon the Trads should introduce a rule that stepdads don’t have to be listened to. I wouldn’t protest against that one.’

      Luke is lost in his world of pencil and paper. He has this expression when he draws – frowning but with one eyebrow a bit higher than the other. And he always has one pencil in his hand, one in his mouth. I’ve warned him about lead poisoning, but he says he’s happy to die for his art.

      ‘How can women ever vote for him?’ I ask, deciding to reach for the bendy biscuit after all. It’s meant to be ginger, so if I ignore the fact that it doesn’t crunch like it should, I can concentrate on the taste instead. ‘I reckon if they could all vote again tomorrow, loads of women would change their mind. Because it’s not like the Trads were completely honest in their campaign, were they?’

      ‘No one ever is.’

      ‘They talked about strengthening the family unit, but there was no mention of banning new mums from work.’

      Luke doesn’t answer. There’s just the faint scratch of his pencil.

      ‘Sara chose a green band,’ I say.

      ‘I know.’

      ‘How could she? Her parents voted Trad, but she should know better. I thought she was stronger than that.’

      ‘People are scared.’

      ‘To stand up for what’s right?’

      ‘Yes. When there are guns involved. Definitely.’

      I take another biscuit. ‘These are disgusting.’

      ‘You need to stay still.’

      ‘I’ll keep my legs still. Draw them while I’m eating. Or better still,’ I say, hitching my skirt even higher. ‘Eat my legs while you draw.’

      ‘Rubes.’ Luke looks pained. ‘It’s difficult enough for me to focus as it is.’

      ‘Don’t then,’ I say. ‘Come and join me here.’

      ‘I will,’ Luke says. ‘When I’ve finished this.’

      I pout at him, but I know it won’t make any difference, so I settle myself as comfortable as I can to wait it out.

      ‘I feel bad that I didn’t go home with Lilli,’ I say. ‘If she didn’t go to a friend’s she’ll be at home worrying about what I think. Whether I’m going to tell Mum or Darren.’ I pick at the carpet in front of me.

      ‘Are they both at work?’

      The door to our hut suddenly slams open. I sit up and grab the Core band from my forehead as a soldier walks in.

      ‘What’s going on here?’ He doesn’t look at Luke, only at me, his eyes going from my face to my bare legs. Luke starts to get up. ‘Don’t move,’ the soldier shouts.

      ‘We’re just hanging out,’ Luke says, raising his hands with his palms facing out. I don’t know how he speaks. My voice has wound itself tight round the trigger of the soldier’s gun.

      ‘You’re indecent,’ the man says to me. My legs burn under his glare and I try to pull the skirt longer.

      ‘We weren’t doing anything,’ Luke says. I don’t look at him again, but I can hear fear flickering in his words.

      ‘Where’s your ID?’ the soldier asks.

      ‘In my bag,’ Luke tells him.

      ‘Get it.’

      Luke goes from his chair to the wall. He has to turn his back on the soldier as he picks up his bag. In the front pocket is his ID – the one everyone over the age of thirteen now has to carry. Luke walks the few steps across the hut floor and hands it over. The soldier scans it, before he throws it back.

      ‘Now yours.’ He uses his gun to point at me and my brain switches blank. All I can see is how close the trigger is. How I could blink and it will all be over.

      ‘Ruby,’ Luke says. ‘He needs your ID.’ He nods at me calmly, even though panic must be biting every cell in his body.

      ‘Fine,’ I say. I stand up and pull my skirt to its normal length, but even though it reaches my knees now, I feel completely exposed. I try to stop my hands shaking as I unzip my bag. I’m determined not to show the soldier that I’m afraid as I hand him my ID, looking him hard in the eyes. He stares at my card, then scans it before he hands it back.

      ‘I’ll escort you from here,’ the soldier says. ‘It’s clearly an unsuitable place for two young, unmarried people to be. You won’t be coming back.’

      If he didn’t have that gun I’d thump him. Or at least swear at him or something. Instead, like obedient lambs, Luke and I head towards the door.

      ‘You’ve forgotten something,’ the soldier says. He jerks his head towards Luke’s Core band on the floor. ‘Or you could put it in the bin and choose the option of a better future.’

      ‘No thanks,’ Luke says, as he bends down to pick it up and pulls it up his arm.

      ‘Put on yours,’ the soldier tells me. There’s a strong part of me that wants to hide it in my bag, to deny my beliefs and make my life easier, just for a moment. But I pull the Core band up my arm too.

      ‘I’ll follow you out,’ the soldier says.

      I hear him close the door to our hut. Luke and I walk side by side, our hands almost touching. The tunnel through the trees doesn’t feel safe any more. The air is cold. The soldier walks behind us, his boots heavy on the leaves. I don’t think he walks on the railway line, but I wish he would. I wish they’d suddenly turn it on and send a thousand volts through his Trad body.

      He’s close behind us, but I can feel his gun as though it’s pressing on my back. Pressing between my shoulder blades, the tip of it boring into my skin. The bullet released.

      ‘We’re okay,’ Luke whispers. I nod and look ahead.

      We reach the broken part of the fence