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Authors: Malorie Blackman
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such a thing.’
‘So what do we do?’ I asked.
‘We wait for Dad to come home first,’ Gib said slowly. ‘There’s no point in doing anything else until he gets back. We have to find out what’s going on.’
He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to. Neither of us wanted to discuss what would happen if Dad
didn’t
come home …
Waiting for Mum and Dad to come home was the hardest waiting I’d ever had to do in my life. Gib and I couldn’t find anything much to say to each other. It was as if a high wall had sprung up between us. A wall we couldn’t get over or under or around. For the first time, I felt uncomfortable just being with Gib. And I didn’t need my glasses to see that he felt the same way.
I spent the rest of the morning wandering around the house, looking for something to do to take my mind off Mum and Dad. The minute hand of my watch had never moved slower. I tried reading a book of science fiction short stories but the words kept bouncing off my head rather than sinking in. I took my book and ambled out of the house into the garden. Lunchtime had come and gone but I wasn’t the least bit hungry. I’d been in the garden about fifteen minutes when Gib caught up with me. He was still wearing the same faded, grubby jeans he’d worn that morning, but he’d changed his blue shirt for the T-shirt I’d picked out with Mum for his last birthday. The T-shirt had a Superman emblem on it. I wondered why he’d bothered to change. What was wrong with the shirt he’d been wearing?
In his hands he carried the listings we’d got from the bank’s development system.
‘Vicky, can I go through these batch-job reports with you? I want to make sure I understand them.’
‘They’re not from the live system,’ I frowned.
‘Are the reports we get from the live system going to be that much different?’ Gib asked.
I thought about it. ‘I don’t know. I guess not. The two systems are supposed to be identical so that programs written and tested on the development machine can be run on the live machine.’
‘That’s what I thought.’ Gib smiled. ‘So we can always treat this as a … a dress rehearsal, just in case.’
‘I thought you wanted to wait until Dad came home before doing anything else.’
‘I did, but all this waiting around is driving me crazy,’ Gib replied. ‘So come on, explain what this lot means.’
Gib plonked the pages of listings down on my lap. To tell the truth, I didn’t want to talk to Gib. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I wanted to be by myself until Dad came home. If Dad came home …
Don’t even think such a thing, I thought angrily.
‘Dad will be back today. You just wait and see,’ Gib said from beside me.
I was amazed. I turned to him, shading my eyes against the afternoon sun.
‘How did you know what I was thinking?’
‘’Cause I’m your … because it’s written all over your face,’ Gib said, looking down at the ground.
Why did I get the feeling that he’d changed his mind about what he was really going to say?
‘All right then,’ I said reluctantly. ‘I guess I’ve nothing better to do anyway. I’ll tell you what each column means and then I’ll leave you to it.’
Gib opened the listing to the first page.
‘Got a pen?’ I asked.
After a quick search through his trouser pockets, Gib took out a pencil. Gib’s pockets were worse than Mum’s handbag. They were always filled with all kinds of junk. I was sure Gib thought of his pockets as the equivalent of Batman’s utility belt.
‘Right then,’ I began as we pored over the listings together. ‘The first column is the program name, then you’ve got the date and time when the program was first created, the date and time when it was compiled to create an object file … let me see, the next column is the date and time when the object file was linked. Then you’ve got the user identification of the last person to change the program, followed by …’
‘Hang on
‘So what do we do?’ I asked.
‘We wait for Dad to come home first,’ Gib said slowly. ‘There’s no point in doing anything else until he gets back. We have to find out what’s going on.’
He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to. Neither of us wanted to discuss what would happen if Dad
didn’t
come home …
Waiting for Mum and Dad to come home was the hardest waiting I’d ever had to do in my life. Gib and I couldn’t find anything much to say to each other. It was as if a high wall had sprung up between us. A wall we couldn’t get over or under or around. For the first time, I felt uncomfortable just being with Gib. And I didn’t need my glasses to see that he felt the same way.
I spent the rest of the morning wandering around the house, looking for something to do to take my mind off Mum and Dad. The minute hand of my watch had never moved slower. I tried reading a book of science fiction short stories but the words kept bouncing off my head rather than sinking in. I took my book and ambled out of the house into the garden. Lunchtime had come and gone but I wasn’t the least bit hungry. I’d been in the garden about fifteen minutes when Gib caught up with me. He was still wearing the same faded, grubby jeans he’d worn that morning, but he’d changed his blue shirt for the T-shirt I’d picked out with Mum for his last birthday. The T-shirt had a Superman emblem on it. I wondered why he’d bothered to change. What was wrong with the shirt he’d been wearing?
In his hands he carried the listings we’d got from the bank’s development system.
‘Vicky, can I go through these batch-job reports with you? I want to make sure I understand them.’
‘They’re not from the live system,’ I frowned.
‘Are the reports we get from the live system going to be that much different?’ Gib asked.
I thought about it. ‘I don’t know. I guess not. The two systems are supposed to be identical so that programs written and tested on the development machine can be run on the live machine.’
‘That’s what I thought.’ Gib smiled. ‘So we can always treat this as a … a dress rehearsal, just in case.’
‘I thought you wanted to wait until Dad came home before doing anything else.’
‘I did, but all this waiting around is driving me crazy,’ Gib replied. ‘So come on, explain what this lot means.’
Gib plonked the pages of listings down on my lap. To tell the truth, I didn’t want to talk to Gib. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I wanted to be by myself until Dad came home. If Dad came home …
Don’t even think such a thing, I thought angrily.
‘Dad will be back today. You just wait and see,’ Gib said from beside me.
I was amazed. I turned to him, shading my eyes against the afternoon sun.
‘How did you know what I was thinking?’
‘’Cause I’m your … because it’s written all over your face,’ Gib said, looking down at the ground.
Why did I get the feeling that he’d changed his mind about what he was really going to say?
‘All right then,’ I said reluctantly. ‘I guess I’ve nothing better to do anyway. I’ll tell you what each column means and then I’ll leave you to it.’
Gib opened the listing to the first page.
‘Got a pen?’ I asked.
After a quick search through his trouser pockets, Gib took out a pencil. Gib’s pockets were worse than Mum’s handbag. They were always filled with all kinds of junk. I was sure Gib thought of his pockets as the equivalent of Batman’s utility belt.
‘Right then,’ I began as we pored over the listings together. ‘The first column is the program name, then you’ve got the date and time when the program was first created, the date and time when it was compiled to create an object file … let me see, the next column is the date and time when the object file was linked. Then you’ve got the user identification of the last person to change the program, followed by …’
‘Hang on
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