picture was wearing a black balaclava and Gil couldn’t see anything of their face except two shadows where the eyes must be, and a hole for the
mouth. He – or she – was dressed like a terrorist, but they were carrying a puppy instead of a gun. It looked completely wrong.
Several minutes went by, and Jude didn’t come back.
There was a smell of stale cigarette smoke and damp. Gil sat on the edge of Jude’s neat bed and began to wish he’d never come. If only he hadn’t been able to come up with a
plan. If only he were like Louis, too thick to have ideas of his own, the sort of person who always said, Wow! I wish I’d thought of that! He ought to run back to school while he had
the chance, Gil decided, standing up quickly. Louis would just be coming out of maths and making his way to the science block. Double science – it suddenly seemed the most wonderful thing in
the world, as appealing as a big roast dinner with all the trimmings. Which I’m not going to eat any more, Gil reminded himself. You stupid, stupid, stupid . . .
But before he could escape Jude came through the door, carrying two more cans which he dumped on a table.
‘Poor old Sally,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry I took so long. She couldn’t find her tablets. I suppose I shouldn’t encourage her to take them, really, seeing as
they’ve all been tested on animals. She freaked you out, didn’t she?’
‘Um – yeah, a bit,’ Gil said.
‘She wouldn’t hurt you. She’s more likely to hurt herself,’ said Jude. ‘She’s got schizophrenia and she drinks as well. It’s not a good combination.
There’re things going on inside her head that you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy.’
Gil thought of Mum again. If Mum was going mad, would she end up like Sally, lying face down in the front garden with a can of lager? Was there any way he could stop it?
‘Sit here,’ said Jude, patting the armchair.
Gil sat down carefully, feeling the springs creak. The chair was covered in green velvet, but there were bald patches and cigarette burns on the arms. Jude plonked himself on the old office
chair at his desk and sat twizzling from side to side. He pulled the tobacco out of his pocket and started to roll a cigarette. Gil watched him for a minute and suddenly felt better. Why had he
wanted to run away? Jude was safe. There was nothing to worry about. He allowed himself to relax into the chair.
‘That stuff Sally was talking about – the experiments,’ Gil said. ‘That isn’t really happening to her, is it?’
‘Not in quite the way she imagines,’ said Jude. ‘But yeah, it’s happening all right. Sally’s convinced someone’s been fiddling with her DNA, trying to turn
her into an animal. But it’s not so far from the truth. You know about genetic modification, I guess?’
‘Not a lot,’ said Gil.
Jude looked down at the flimsy cigarette paper in his fingers. His voice was clear and soothing. ‘It’s a massive issue. All kinds of plants and animals that we use for food have had
their genes altered without us knowing, and nobody really knows what impact it’s going to have. Strawberries, for example – well, they’ve created a strawberry that’s got a
gene from an Arctic flounder spliced into it to make it more resistant to frost. Half-fruit, half-fish. Creepy, eh? But if you ate it you’d never know. They’ve probably got them on the
shelves over at Tesco. So Sally’s not quite as crazy as she sounds. It’s the science that’s mad. And the scientists, who think they’ve got a licence to do whatever they want
in the pursuit of knowledge and money.’
‘Like my dad, you mean,’ Gil said.
‘Yes,’ said Jude seriously. ‘Like your dad.’
‘I know it sounds stupid,’ Gil said, ‘but I never knew . . . I never knew . . .’
Gil’s throat closed up and to his complete horror he realised he was going to cry. His stomach rose, squeezing the space inside his lungs and demanding that he took a breath.
mouth. He – or she – was dressed like a terrorist, but they were carrying a puppy instead of a gun. It looked completely wrong.
Several minutes went by, and Jude didn’t come back.
There was a smell of stale cigarette smoke and damp. Gil sat on the edge of Jude’s neat bed and began to wish he’d never come. If only he hadn’t been able to come up with a
plan. If only he were like Louis, too thick to have ideas of his own, the sort of person who always said, Wow! I wish I’d thought of that! He ought to run back to school while he had
the chance, Gil decided, standing up quickly. Louis would just be coming out of maths and making his way to the science block. Double science – it suddenly seemed the most wonderful thing in
the world, as appealing as a big roast dinner with all the trimmings. Which I’m not going to eat any more, Gil reminded himself. You stupid, stupid, stupid . . .
But before he could escape Jude came through the door, carrying two more cans which he dumped on a table.
‘Poor old Sally,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry I took so long. She couldn’t find her tablets. I suppose I shouldn’t encourage her to take them, really, seeing as
they’ve all been tested on animals. She freaked you out, didn’t she?’
‘Um – yeah, a bit,’ Gil said.
‘She wouldn’t hurt you. She’s more likely to hurt herself,’ said Jude. ‘She’s got schizophrenia and she drinks as well. It’s not a good combination.
There’re things going on inside her head that you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy.’
Gil thought of Mum again. If Mum was going mad, would she end up like Sally, lying face down in the front garden with a can of lager? Was there any way he could stop it?
‘Sit here,’ said Jude, patting the armchair.
Gil sat down carefully, feeling the springs creak. The chair was covered in green velvet, but there were bald patches and cigarette burns on the arms. Jude plonked himself on the old office
chair at his desk and sat twizzling from side to side. He pulled the tobacco out of his pocket and started to roll a cigarette. Gil watched him for a minute and suddenly felt better. Why had he
wanted to run away? Jude was safe. There was nothing to worry about. He allowed himself to relax into the chair.
‘That stuff Sally was talking about – the experiments,’ Gil said. ‘That isn’t really happening to her, is it?’
‘Not in quite the way she imagines,’ said Jude. ‘But yeah, it’s happening all right. Sally’s convinced someone’s been fiddling with her DNA, trying to turn
her into an animal. But it’s not so far from the truth. You know about genetic modification, I guess?’
‘Not a lot,’ said Gil.
Jude looked down at the flimsy cigarette paper in his fingers. His voice was clear and soothing. ‘It’s a massive issue. All kinds of plants and animals that we use for food have had
their genes altered without us knowing, and nobody really knows what impact it’s going to have. Strawberries, for example – well, they’ve created a strawberry that’s got a
gene from an Arctic flounder spliced into it to make it more resistant to frost. Half-fruit, half-fish. Creepy, eh? But if you ate it you’d never know. They’ve probably got them on the
shelves over at Tesco. So Sally’s not quite as crazy as she sounds. It’s the science that’s mad. And the scientists, who think they’ve got a licence to do whatever they want
in the pursuit of knowledge and money.’
‘Like my dad, you mean,’ Gil said.
‘Yes,’ said Jude seriously. ‘Like your dad.’
‘I know it sounds stupid,’ Gil said, ‘but I never knew . . . I never knew . . .’
Gil’s throat closed up and to his complete horror he realised he was going to cry. His stomach rose, squeezing the space inside his lungs and demanding that he took a breath.
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