By Malorie Blackman
In Boys do not Cry, bestselling writer Malorie Blackman explores the unchartered territory of teenybopper fatherhood. you are anticipating the postman - he is bringing your a degree effects. college, a profession as a journalist - a glittering destiny lies forward. but if the doorbell earrings it is your previous female friend; and she's wearing a toddler. Your child. you are chuffed to seem after it, only for an hour or . yet then she does not come again - and your destiny without notice seems very diverse. Malorie's dramatic new novel will take you on a trip from tears to laughter and again back.
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A baby. A child. My child? ’ I was on my feet again. ‘My name’s not even on the birth certificate. ’ The desperation in my voice was very evident but I couldn’t help it. ’ Dad frowned. ‘We’ll see Doctor Planter and then leave. ’ No, it wasn’t OK. If I jumped up and ran, how long before Dad would catch up with me? I gave the answer some serious thought, but finally decided against it. I had speed but Dad had endurance. He’d just wait me out and then he’d drag me back here. And on top of that, he’d be pissed at me.
No, I don’t. I just . . ’ Trying. And failing. ‘I took one look at Emma and I couldn’t do that either. My aunt did her best to persuade me to give her up but I just couldn’t. ’ Melanie’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. ‘But the first time I looked at Emma, she felt like the only thing I had left in the whole world. If I lost her, I’d have nothing . ’ I didn’t know what to say, how to react to that. How could ten forgettable minutes of not much turn both our lives inside out and upside down like this?
I’ll be back in fifteen minutes or less. ’ Melanie was already heading out of the sitting room and towards the front door. ‘You can’t just dump her on me,’ I protested. ’ ‘Melanie, I’m serious,’ I said. ’ ‘Oh, get over yourself, Dante. ’ ‘You can’t leave your baby here,’ I insisted, my tone broken-glass sharp with panic. ’ ‘Yeah, but not immediately. You said you were waiting for your exam results. ’ Melanie was at the now-open front door. ‘And she’s not just “my” baby. She’s yours too. ’ ‘Melanie, hang on.