Blood Ties by Sophie McKenzie

branded – like when they stamp animals to say who they belong to. Like Theo had marked me out as his.
    Even if he didn’t realise it.
    I kept my fingers closed over the hard ridge of the paper as I turned round. Dad was behind me, watching – eyes hard, arms folded.
    I was furious with him. Okay, so he didn’t remember Theo’s dad, but I couldn’t believe how rude he’d been. I mean, I know Theo wasn’t telling him the whole truth, but that was just to protect his mum. The poor guy. He just wanted a bit of information and Dad had totally refused to talk.
    I stomped upstairs without a word, still clutching the tiny piece of paper.
    I unfolded it in my bedroom. My heart raced. It had clearly been torn out of some workbook. Next to the printed line of text, Theo had written his phone number. Not a mobile. A home number.
    For a second I let myself imagine he’d given me his number because he wanted to ask me out. But this voice in my head told me not to be so stupid. He’d given me his number so I could let him know if Dad said anything about James Lawson.
    I wanted to cry. How sweet that he cared so much. His life must be so hard. His mum in constant misery. Theo, himself, searching, yearning to know more about his father.
    I lay on my bed, picturing his face. Remembering his eyes when he looked at me. But gradually my thoughts turned to how hopeless it was. I’d probably never see him again. And, even if I did, he would never be interested in me . Fat, ugly me.
    And then I remembered how he’d asked about Rebecca. How his face had lit up when he’d seen her picture on the wall. A hole opened up inside my stomach. I was nothing. I was worthless. I was worse even than Jemima and her friends said I was.
    I got off the bed and crept downstairs to the kitchen. I walked quietly, not wanting Mum to see me. I found the cupboard I was looking for and reached inside for the round, steel biscuit tin. I eased the lid off and crammed a chocolate biscuit into my mouth.
    The chocolate melted against my mouth – all rich and creamy. I crunched on the biscuit, letting my saliva smooth out the rough, sugary texture of the wheat. I swallowed it down. Then I took another. And another.
    Five biscuits later, I shut the lid on the tin and slid it back in the cupboard. As I closed the cupboard door I filled up with misery again. Why had I done that? I was only going to get fatter and fatter.
    And Mum would see. She would know what I’d done. Not that she’d say anything directly. She’d just start going on about carbs again.
    I crept out of the kitchen as silently as I’d entered it. But this time as I passed the living-room door on my way to the stairs I heard Mum and Dad talking.
    ‘I don’t think you should do anything.’ Mum’s voice was sharp. ‘He’s just a boy.’
    ‘But it was him. Him. I saw it when he put his hand through his hair.’ Dad sounded terrified. ‘We’ve got to do something or they’ll find out about Rachel too.’
    I paused, frowning. What was he talking about?
    ‘I’m going to email Lewis,’ Dad said firmly. I could hear him pacing across the room. ‘He’ll know what’s going on.’
    ‘No.’ Mum’s voice rose. Now she sounded scared too. ‘No. Email’s too risky.’
    ‘Yeah, well.’ Dad’s footsteps stopped. ‘I had to get rid of the secure phone, didn’t I? So there’s not any choice. Anyway, not doing anything’s riskier. Didn’t you hear the boy? He was talking about Elijah and he knew about James Lawson.’
    My stomach gave a sickening lurch .
    Mum knew about the secret phone too. Which Dad was now referring to as a secure phone for some reason. Worse, Dad had lied flat out. He did know Theo’s dad. And that Gene Genie guy.
    The footsteps suddenly got louder. Closer to the door. I scurried to the stairs. Raced up to my room. I stood just inside the door, panting, my heart pulsing in my throat.
    Footsteps coming up the stairs. I peered through the crack in my bedroom door. Dad