reached the main road, and had to wait for the pedestrian signal. A car full of lads came past and slowed right down when it was level with us. There was music blaring out and they were shouting something. Then one of them leaned right out and spat on me. A horrible big glob of white slime sliding down my bare arm. I screamed. I wasnât hurt, it was just the shock. Nat grabbed a handful of leaves from a dusty little garden behind us, and quickly scooped it off. I asked him what they were shouting.
âJust crap.â
âWhat?â
âRubbish. Theyâre dickheads.â
I knew heâd heard something he didnât want to tell me. I felt like scrubbing my arm until the layer of skin they had polluted was scraped right off. I was furious but there was another feeling too, like a dog that slinks back towards you after youâve yelled at it, looking up at you with his eyes ashamed and hopeful. I wanted them to come back so I could prove to them that I wasnât the sort of person you should spit at. I tried to pull myself together. âWhat are you going to do?â I asked Nat. âIf youâre leaving?â
âAnimal Liberation Front. Iâm going underground!â He looked extremely pleased with himself.
I remembered what Lisaâd said at the first meeting. âYou think what happens to animals is more important than whatâs happening to women.â
âNo, I think MDS came out of this kind of research, and scientists should be stopped before they invent something even worse. Dâyou really think itâs OK to torture animals?â
I didnât but bashing scientists just wasnât the most important thing. It seemed childish, cloak and dagger stuff, underground , breaking the law in the name of the ALF. I thought we could achieve more inside YOFI.
Then the next day Sal said she wanted to start coming to meetings. I was surprised because she was usually busy with Damien. But she came and had tea with me and we walked down to the community centre together. I asked her what had happened to Damien.
âFootball.â
He worked at the leisure centre so that wasnât very surprising, but she said, âHeâs obsessed with it.â
âWhat dâyou mean?â
âHis football mates. They meet up every night.â
âEvery night ?â
âWell. About four times a week. For a practise and a drink, he says.â
âYou think heâs seeing someone else?â
She shrugged. âHeâs an arse.â But she didnât say it as if she couldnât care less, in the usual Sal way.
âSal?â
âOh, heâs just being weird.â
I knew it must be something embarrassing, because she used to tell me most things. Then she suddenly said, âI think he might be gay.â I couldnât help it, I just went âOoh ducky!â and we both burst out laughing. I thought about the times Iâd seen him, when he was all over her.
âHeâs changed,â she insisted, âI canât explain it, but the way he is now, heâs impatient, heâs kind of contemptuous.â
âWell sack him. Plenty more fish in the sea.â Salâd been going out with lads since we were 11 and not one of them had ever dumped her. It was hard to see why she was making such a fuss over Damien.
âHe wants me to go out with them, him and his football mates.â
âWell canât you?â
âI can. But they drink themselves stupid and only listen to each other.â
âHavenât they got girlfriends?â
âOn Friday I was the only girl. He changes when heâs with them. Itâs like heâs bored with me.â
With everything that was happening in the world, all Sal could do was obsess about a stupid man. âForget him,â I said.
I wish she had. Or I wish I had taken her more seriously. But I took over organising the airport protest, and I was so busy
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