Nought Forever (Noughts & Crosses) by Malorie Blackman

Author:Malorie Blackman [Blackman, Malorie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780241388792
Goodreads: 42373431
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2019-02-28T00:00:00+00:00

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Here’s a sneak preview of

the next book in the

Noughts & Crosses series,

which will be coming out

in summer 2019

Enjoy!

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Malorie Blackman

CROSSFIRE

NOW

One. Callie

A Nought woman, no doubt some poor jobbing actress desperate to pay her rent, was kneeling down in the middle of a stylized pigsty. She held leads attached to twelve decorated sculptures of life-sized pink pigs surrounding her like the petals of a flower, all looking out at the audience. Some of the pigs wore clothes – military uniforms, or just a hat or shoes. Two of them were simulating copulation. The Nought woman wore a bodysuit that at first glance made her look naked. She was kneeling, her head down. At random intervals she looked up to stare at the person directly in front of her for a few seconds before slowly bowing her head again. Now it was my turn to receive her numb stare. My lips twisted in distaste. Blinking rapidly, the exhibit lowered her head, her cheeks reddening.

Embarrassed for both of us, I said quietly, ‘The look on my face wasn’t aimed at you. It was aimed at this ridiculous so-called art installation.’

The woman’s head remained bent, the slight tensing of her shoulders and her reddened face the only indications that she’d heard my words. Whether or not she believed them was another matter.

I shook my head, sighing inwardly. It had taken me years to cultivate my poker face, but there were moments – like now – when the mask slipped. After glancing at my watch I took a seat at one end of the gallery and looked around. A huge sign hanging above all the exhibits declared: ALBION – LESSONS LEARNED: A 21st-CENTURY RETROSPECTIVE. Talk about the chieftain’s new robes. This was supposed to be the most avant-garde, exciting art exhibition currently in the capital. Nought actors and actresses adorned the various works of art, a few of them naked, some covered from head to toe in body paint of various hues. They sat in, on or among the exhibits, seldom moving. The whole thing had a melancholy air of crass awkwardness to it.

If I were an art critic, I know how my review would read: Dubious style and precious little substance. The few articles I’d read about this so-called exhibition described it as ‘daring’, ‘innovative’, ‘a fresh take’ – blah blah.

Yeah, right.

Sauley J’Hara, the Cross artist responsible for this hot mess, had been all over the news during the last two weeks, responding to the very vocal criticism of his art installation.

‘It’s a forward-thinking look at how we used to regard and treat Noughts juxtaposed with how they are regarded now,’ he’d argued.

I shook my head again. What a steaming pile of horse manure. A self-congratulatory exercise in nostalgia for the backward thinkers who wished – or still believed – they lived in the past.

I looked up at the ceiling. Now there was real art. Panels depicting Zafrika’s history – some carved from wood, some from marble, some just painted, but all exquisitely beautiful.

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