Fifty Fifty by S. L. Powell

around in his
thoughts.
    He had no phone number for Jude, no idea where he lived or worked, not even a surname. Maybe, though, there would be a contact number for the local animal rights group on the back of
Jude’s booklet. That would be something. Gil jumped up, and then flopped down again. It was pointless looking in his bedroom. Dad had walked off with the booklet. He could have put it
anywhere. But at least Gil had a bit of time to poke about while Dad was safely shut away upstairs with Mum. He got up again and began quietly to move around the house.
    The booklet didn’t seem to be in the front room or the kitchen. Gil peered in the bin. Right at the bottom was the carrier bag full of broken plate that Dad had cleared up. Gil lifted it
carefully, but there was nothing underneath. So unless Dad had taken the booklet upstairs, it was probably in Dad’s study. Gil stopped for a moment. Dad’s study was completely off
limits. Now that Gil was beginning to get an idea of what Dad did at work, it was obvious why Dad would want to ban him from the study. There was probably all kinds of sensitive stuff in there that
he wanted to keep secret.
    But it’s my house too, Gil thought. It’s my life. I’ve got a right to know. He slipped off his shoes and padded up the hall to the study door. As he stood with his fingers on
the handle, listening carefully for any sound from upstairs, he felt his heart thumping uncomfortably. Don’t be stupid, he told himself. It’s just a room. But it was a
room he knew he shouldn’t enter, in the same way that he knew he shouldn’t steal things or hit anyone even if they hit him first. It was hard to break a rule that had been in your head
for as long as you could remember.
    He pushed open the study door. It felt as heavy as a slab of rock.
    Most of the house had wooden floors but Dad’s study was carpeted, and the small room seemed soft and muffled. One whole wall was lined with bookshelves, and there were several filing
cabinets and an armchair, and then Dad’s big desk with everything laid out neatly – pens and trays of papers, a holiday photo of the three of them, Dad’s laptop and a notebook.
Above the desk was a big fossil fish in a glass box. In the middle of the desk was Jude’s booklet. Gil pounced on it with relief. Quickly he tore a page out of Dad’s notebook and copied
the phone number from the back of the booklet. He stuffed the paper in his pocket.
    Then Gil stood and listened again. He should leave now, before Dad caught him. But the study was out of sight of the top of the stairs. If he got out as soon as he heard a sound from above he
would still be safe.
    Without knowing exactly what he was looking for, Gil’s hand went to the top drawer of Dad’s desk. The drawers were locked, of course, but his hand moved again as if it had a mind of
its own. Look, his fingers said, Dad’s forgotten to take the key out of the lock. The key turned smoothly, with a little click. This was probably where Dad had put his Nintendo,
Gil thought as the top drawer slid open. Maybe he could remove it without Dad noticing.
    He poked through the items in the drawer. It was mostly paper clips and scissors and envelopes and Dad’s headed notepaper and cartridges for the printer – but there was also a box
with a set of keys and a funny black pendant with a silver button on it.
    Right at the back was a rusty badge that said Scientists against the Bomb , with a small piece of wire twisted into the safety pin. The middle drawer had piles of printed emails and other
papers. Sure enough, his Nintendo and MP3 player sat on top of the pile. Gil hovered over them for a minute and then left them where they were.
    But in the bottom drawer Gil found something different. It was a photo album.
    For a split second he hesitated. A photo album, in a locked drawer, in a room that he wasn’t supposed to be in. All their other photo albums were on a shelf in the front room. There were