10

FEATHERS START FLYING

When you’re possibly being followed by the FBI and deceiving the government about UFOs (though to be honest, I’d hoped they would be smarter), you get to thinking about your mum.

It’s best if she hears this from me.

So, by the time I leave Harriet at her house and head towards the Cheep Chicks’ driveway, I’ve made up my mind. It’s time to confess. Just to Mum, of course. She won’t report me to the cops and Mum’s got a second cousin who married a lawyer. Given my current situation, that might come in handy.

Walking down the long driveway and past the small carpark, I practise explaining myself to Mum. The first part goes all right, but then I start saying ‘Mum, I’m wanted by the American government and it’s okay because I’m too young for prison …’

Well, that doesn’t sound good.

I start again, staring down at my hands. ‘Mum, I faked UFO sightings and maybe a couple of crop circles, but on the bright side I’ll get an A for my project, so it’s not all bad news. Improving my grades might increase my chances of attending university when I’m older, right?’

Does that sound better?

Taking a deep breath, I reach the main barn’s side door and check my watch. Right now, Mum should be irrigating the cages, but I can’t spot her. Instead, two things strike me as weird. First of all, there’s fancy cars in the driveway. No one around here drives BMWs and I doubt tourists would visit poultry farms. Unless … my heart stops. Did the FBI get here first?

Second of all, I hear Mum yelling. Now my heart performs backward flips, splashing into my stomach. What if the police linked the first UFO sighting to my yard and think Mum’s responsible? What if the FBI are arresting her, right now?

I’m down to one parent, I can’t lose another. Taking a deep breath, I fling open the door and shout, ‘No, no! It’s all a mistake! It’s my fault!’

A bunch of adults turn and stare. They’re standing between two rows of cages, wearing long white coats and carrying clipboards marked ‘Health and Safety’. Mum stands with her arms outstretched, like she’s trying to protect them from the dirty cages. I guess that makes sense because they’re wearing white, but Mum’s dressed in gumboots with her checked bush-shirt hanging over her jeans. She can afford to get dirty. Her boss, Mr Winter, stands beside her in shorts and jandals, a cup of coffee in his hand and mouth open.

Mum says, ‘What on earth’s going on?’

But they only glance at me for a second, then turn their heads back towards another kid. There’s a girl in the middle of the room, standing on a chair and … it’s my sister. For a second I’m wondering why she’s here, when Ellie shrieks, ‘Animals have rights!’

Okay, this can’t be good. Even weirder, she’s wearing Mum’s good winter jacket over her jeans. Ellie’s small but those buttons look ready to pop, which means she must be wearing several jumpers underneath. In fact, Ellie’s sweating under the barn’s heat lamps, all wrapped up like a melting snowman. What’s going on?

Mum glances back at me. ‘Lucas? Are you in on this, too?’

‘Uh, I just wanted some fishing line …’

But before I can explain, Ellie stamps her foot, shouting, ‘I mean it! Nobody move!’

She starts unbuttoning her jacket. No wonder she looked uncomfortable. Turns out she’s not wearing extra jumpers underneath, instead she’s taped cardboard toilet rolls over her T-shirt. Everyone gasps, including me. This can’t be sanitary. Ellie drops Mum’s jacket onto the poop-stained floor.

Wow, she’s lost it … big time.

Mum’s mouth opens wide enough to swallow eggs. ‘That’s my good jacket, young lady! What on earth are you doing?’

Mr Winter rushes forward and spills his coffee, which must’ve hurt because he shrieks and bangs against a stack of cages, sending the chickens into a screeching panic. The inspectors lower their clipboards, possibly to use as shields because, let’s face it, Ellie looks capable of anything.

I figure now’s not the time to tell Mum about my alien hoax.

‘Don’t worry about me,’ I gasp, edging backwards into the doorway. ‘I’m just gonna grab some fishing line and go, okay?’

‘Stay right where you are!’ Mum’s head swings between me and my sister. ‘What’s going on? Ellie, for goodness’ sake! Get those things off!’

‘I’ll come back later!’ I call out. ‘It’s nothing to do with me!’

But no one’s listening because Ellie’s shouting, ‘Even barn-raised chickens have to pass health and safety! I’m covered in toilet paper, borrowed from a PUBLIC TOILET, so you can’t approve these chickens! If I touch these cages they won’t pass hygiene regulation AND I’ve been to the bathroom without washing my hands! I’m a double contamination risk!’

Everyone sucks in their breath. A balding man with a crooked nose mutters over his clipboard, ‘You know, she’s actually right.’

Oh, this isn’t good.

Ellie jumps off her crate, landing with a scrape on the concrete floor. Turning around, she runs with a toilet roll in each hand, banging them against every cage she passes. All the chickens jump inside their prisons, squawking and slamming their wings against the sides, until feathers start flying through the air like dirty snowflakes.

Mr Winter slams his coffee cup onto a trestle table and splutters, ‘Somebody stop that girl!’

‘Are you serious?’ gasps one of the younger ladies. ‘She’s covered in toilet rolls!’

‘Kate!’ Mr Winter roars at Mum. ‘Sort out your daughter, now!’

Mum’s already pushing past the crowd of inspectors, shouting as she chases after Ellie. ‘Get back here, young lady! Lucas — give me a hand!’

So it’s left to me and Mum to chase my sister down. I head Ellie off before the doorway, waving my arms like a goalie for Arsenal, while Mum grabs her around the waist. Still, Ellie wriggles and I end up on the floor, holding onto her ankles, while Mum pulls off her toilet rolls. My nose presses against the ground and I’m planning on taking a long bath with an extra splash of Dettol. I’ll bet there’s all kinds of bacteria on this floor. Mr Winter and the health officials watch from a safe distance. I notice nobody’s worried about us catching weird toilet germs. Maybe they figure we were contaminated beforehand on account of being family and sharing cutlery.

Or maybe they just don’t care.