Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Mrs Carpenter's face was a picture when she clocked us walking into the library together – trying to keep the surprise in check while she worked out if we both knew who the other was. In a split second, she must have known we did and that something was up, because she said, "I've just opened a new pack of custard creams in the office – you're in luck, boys!" and escorted us past the main desk and into the small room at the back, where she closed the door.

"Sit!" She indicated a couple of chairs.

"Mrs Prenton knows about the book," I said. "She knows Rob and I took it out, and she knows some third year had it." I explained the rest of the story: the friend who told his mum, the complaint, and the fact we were all about to be outed unless we told Prenton who had recommended the book to us.

Mrs C took a deep breath. "This was bound to happen eventually."

"Why did you risk it?" I asked. "There's a thing called Section 28, you know!"

"Jamie…" She chuckled. "It's a great book; it deserves to be in the school library, whatever certain people say. Why shouldn't you be able to read a book that features gay characters? Gay people exist, after all." She smiled at us both and I looked down at the floor.

"Our backs are against the wall," Rob said. "My dad voted in favour of section 28, and he will—"

"I know," Mrs C said. "I know he did, Rob. I know who he is, what he stands for." She smiled again. "Shall we all have a custard cream?"

She got up and retrieved the packet.

I glanced at Rob and held my hands out – why isn't she worried?

He shrugged, as baffled as I was.

She offered us each a biscuit, and I was delighted that Rob, seemingly on autopilot, immediately twisted the two halves apart and began by licking the cream section first.

"I wish I'd never checked the book out," I muttered. "Mrs Prenton would never have known then."

"I was going to suggest you just take it," Mrs C replied, "but then Mr Haskins walked in, and you already had your library card out. It might have looked suspicious. And I wasn't anticipating Mrs Prenton accessing the lending records like some secret service spy."

"There's a way out if we can get rid of the book before she reads it," Rob said. "Destroy it, burn it, I dunno."

Mrs C nodded. "OK, first, we don't burn books, you utter heathen, so let's get that straight. Second, the book mysteriously and coincidentally goes missing from her office? Right after you two have been identified as being persons of interest? How do you think that's going to look?"

"Suspicious," I conceded. "But still, if there's no evidence…"

Mrs C put her hand up. "Let me stop you there. You're assuming bigots care about things like evidence. They do not. They only care about their agenda."

"Did you just call Mrs Prenton a bigot?" Rob asked, amused.

"I don't know, did I?" Mrs C replied, deadpan. "The point is, this is a school, not a court of law. A parent has complained, so she already knows what she needs to know about what's in it. So even if the book disappears, trust me, you'll be the fall guys, as will I, of course." She smiled and leaned forwards conspiratorially. "This isn't the first time I've flouted section 28 – because, frankly, fuck the Tories."

I just stared at her. It felt like Mrs C had gone fully rogue – and I thought that was utterly amazing.

"Sorry, Rob," she added. "I know your father is a Conservative MP."

He shrugged. "Well, he's a tosser. But what are we going to do, then?"

Mrs Carpenter stared out of the partition window into the library beyond for a while. Eventually, she turned back to us. "I'll take the bullet," she said plainly, like it was nothing. "Tell her it was me, I'll confess, I'll say I brought it into the library, I gave it to you, I shouldn't have done it, and I'll offer my resignation. She will get what she wants: someone to blame. The parent will get what they want: petty revenge for daring to show their child the world is a diverse place and that not everyone thinks alike. And I'll get what I want: protecting two students who haven't done anything wrong."

"It's over, we're screwed," I said, as Rob and I left the library. Luckily, it was a sunny day – everyone was out soaking up the rays on the field, and the corridor was empty.

Rob grabbed me by my sleeve, pulling me back as I was about to charge through the double doors. "We can't let her take the blame."

"What can we do? I really like Mrs C, but we've broken a law. Aren't you worried what'll happen? What people will say? What the repercussions will be?"

He shook his head. "Technically, we haven't broken the law, the school has."

"You're splitting hairs. Like Mrs C said, facts don't matter here."

"Look, Jamie, I don't want to be in trouble, of course not—" He frowned. "What's that look for?"

"You're in detention every other day."

For a moment, he glared at me. "I have a really low tolerance for bullshit. That's why. The point is, in this instance, I'm not ashamed. I got over that a while ago. That's just what they want you to feel. The law is wrong, not us, and Mrs C shouldn't be fired over it."

"But—"

"Power and control, mate," he said.

"What are you talking about?"

He glanced up and down the corridor to check we were alone, then he met my eyes, and I felt it again – that weird connection. That spark. "The world is full of people who want power and control. But they have to use fear and ignorance to get it, because nobody in their right mind would support them otherwise. Keep people afraid by giving them a common enemy, and keep them ill-educated so they never know any better, and you'll always control them!"

I leaned against the opposite wall to where he was. I'd never seen Rob like this. I'd always known he was good-looking, but I'd never really fancied him. Now, though … saying this stuff? OK, I'm a writer, words will always be sexy to me, but this was something else. "Okaaay…?"

He smiled, and he walked towards me slowly. Meaningfully. Never taking his eyes off me. "Well, take gay people. The right-wing press and the politicians tell everyone we're a threat. Being gay will corrupt innocent kids. It spreads disease. It contributes to some kind of moral decline. Society will burn, basically. People are scared. They don't want that. Enter our heroic politicians and religious leaders – they will protect us! They know what's right! And as long as we, the general public, support them, they won't allow those nasty, evil gay people to have their wicked way. All will be well!" He flipped himself round so he was next to me and put his arm across my shoulders in one swift movement, while fending off imaginary attackers. "Keep back, evil gays! Jamie isn't interested in your sordid lifestyle choices!" He laughed, then took his arm away, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Oldest trick in the book – history is riddled with people like that – that's what the Nazis did, they blamed all of Germany's problems on minorities. Jewish people, the disabled, gays – anyone they considered unclean. Impure."

I couldn't take my eyes off him. It was part surprise – that he was this eloquent, and part sheer admiration. What he was saying clicked for me. It made sense. It felt dangerous, but it also felt like … truth. And that was exciting.

Plus, whenever he touched me, I got an endorphin hit. So much so, I was fuzzy-headed and could hardly keep track as he kept talking.

"Now that breaks down if the people know too much. If they get too much understanding, if they, god forbid, learned some empathy and they saw that, actually, being gay wasn't evil, it wasn't bad, and it didn't lead to bad things, what then? See, people like us? We're a threat to the power hoarders, Jamie. We're different, so we've dared to think for ourselves! We've read a book that might give the impression it's OK … to be gay! If others saw that, if they saw we were also happy, what message would that send? That being gay wasn't bad after all? That there was nothing to fear about gay people? That gay people were not going to hell? Oh no! Did the people in power, the people telling us what's right and what's wrong, lie?! It doesn't take much to destroy a system that's based on a tissue of lies. Give too many free thinkers a voice, and the whole pack of cards comes crashing down. And too many powerful people have skin in the game to let that happen."

I blew out a breath, trying to compute it all. Everything he was saying made sense. And it was making me angry. But there was another feeling too, and it felt like a hug, full of reassurance and strength, from being with someone who was talking like this. Someone who was happy to admit "we're different" and use the word "gay" just normally, in a sentence, and it not be a cruel punchline or an insult.

I realized he was looking at me. He gave me a soft smile, then reached out and adjusted the collar of my rugby top. "It looks better popped," he said. He studied my face, and I'm not sure what my expression was as so much was racing through my head, but he frowned and said, "You OK?"

"They won't ever accept us," I muttered. "They can't."

"Mm, they will, occasionally, if it suits them." He slid back round beside me with his back against the wall. "But they'll stop accepting us again if it doesn't."

"The system sucks…"

"Now we're getting somewhere…"

I stared straight ahead, my thoughts suddenly laser-sharp. "Fuck the system!"

He laughed.

And then I managed a laugh too. Somehow, a little bit of weight had lifted. I understood that I'd been fed a lie. Worse, drip-fed poison over years and years and everything I'd thought … simply wasn't true.

"The book needs to vanish," Rob said.

"But Mrs C was right, it'll look obvious if—"

"OK, but what if it doesn't go missing? What if it's just the interior pages that go missing? Replaced by something that no one could object to?"

I turned the idea over in my head.

"The book will still exist," he continued. "Wildflowers of Great Britain will still exist. It's just the contents that make it illegal … won't. She made it sound like the complaining parent only heard about what's in it, and Prenton's busy for the rest of the afternoon and evening. If she leaves the book in her desk – and no, we can't be sure that she will, but it's worth the risk – then finds something else under that cover, what can she do then? What's she going to call our parents in for if all she's got is a rumour and a book that's really about wildflowers?"

I shook my head. "Nice idea, but impossible. It's in her office. We can't get to it."

"Well, not now we can't. But she gave us twenty-four hours."

"I don't understand what you're suggesting," I said, although I did have a creeping dread.

He glanced up and down the corridor again. We were still alone, but he lowered his voice anyway. "We break in. Tonight. We swap the book. We get out. No book, no problem." He met my eyes. "You game?"

My mouth fell open.

How could I do this? Break in to school? If it went wrong, if we were found, that would be the end of everything. I'd worked so hard for so long. I'd always kept my head down. I had, according to everyone, a "bright future". Now I was in danger of throwing all that away.

But if I didn't risk it…

I could lose it all anyway.

"Fuck the system, right, Jamie?" he said.

I met his eyes again. He was smiling at me. Willing me to do it.

"Why should we play by their rules, when the rules are so unfair?" Rob added.

"I know, I know, it's just—"

"Trust me. I won't let anything bad happen to us," he said. He reached out and he gave my arm a gentle squeeze.

For the first time, it wasn't me sorting something out, running a project, or going the extra mile; someone was helping me.

I glanced at his hand, then back at him.

He took his hand away, almost apologetically, and swallowed.

I wished he'd kept it there. It was … comforting.

"How? How do we break in?" I asked.

For a moment, he looked sheepish. "I have detention after school," he said.

I rolled my eyes and he smiled. "Set fire to a globe in geography with a lighter," he explained. "I call that a metaphor, a lot of people would probably call it art, but Mrs Swain calls it vandalism. Anyway, it'll last an hour. That takes me to four forty-five. If I pack up slowly, I can still be here gone five. I can find somewhere to hide out – if they've cleaned the toilets by then, I can hide there, and if not, a classroom. I'll make up an excuse about losing something and going to find it if anyone stops me on the way. As long as I'm on the inside when they lock the main doors, then I can let you in via the fire exit by the drama studio later."

"It's not alarmed?"

"Is it fuck."

"Wait," I said. "After-school detention? You have them a lot, right?"

He shrugged. "Teachers don't like to be challenged, what can I say?"

"That's how you managed to write all the notes in the book without me spotting you! You were still in school after I'd left."

He gave me a quizzical look. "Were you spying? Trying to find me out?"

"Um…"

"Unbelievable."

"I was just intrigued."

He gave me a wry smile.

I thought it best to gloss over all that and press on with the plan. "When shall I be at the fire exit for?"

"Around eight? Everyone will be long gone by then. If I haven't let you in by ten past, assume there's been a problem and get out of there."

He was offering to sacrifice himself to save me if needs be. That was … incredible.

"Won't Prenton's office be locked?"

"That won't be a problem."

I stared at him. Who was he?

"You want to know too many things," he said, raising his eyebrow slightly at me. "Trust me, Jamie, OK? Just bring some stuff so we can swap the books over – glue, scissors, I don't know."

I nodded.

"And don't look so worried. We're outlaws now, like it or not. Don't let me down."

He winked at me, then turned and disappeared through the double doors, leaving me alone and wondering what the hell had just happened and what I'd become.

Change, huh?