He made a face. “It’s an addiction,” he said. “An honest-to-Jesus addiction. You let it in, just once, and—poof! It’s part of you forever. Don’t tell my dad. Don’t tell anyone. I’ll kill myself if he finds out. I mean it. You’d be a murderer.”

“Of course I won’t tell,” I promised him.

“Cross your heart and hope to die?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

So Poodle has a Condition too. And no, I didn’t mean to tell. But schools are funny places. It’s hard to keep a secret here. Tell one person a secret, you’re apt to become notorious. I guess that’s what happened at Netherton Green. Still, that’s all in the past now. That was an aberration. A flare-up of My Condition, which I now have under control.

But I’ve been watching Poodle. I watch him in class, when he’s doodling. I watch him at Break, in the school yard. I watch him in Church as he’s looking up at Jesus, naked on the cross, and I know just what he’s thinking. Poor Poodle, lusting for Jesus. So much easier to lust after the red Flamingo girl who plays the guitar so prettily. But God doesn’t like it easy. God likes to make things difficult. Instead of making people good, he gave us the illusion of choice. Way to go, God. Nice one. That’s what we get for trusting in You.

I went up to Harry’s room today, to tell him about Mr. Scoones and my two-week lunchtime detention. He laughed when I told him about the essay.

“A little too creative, perhaps, for the good folk of St. Oswald’s.”

I shrugged. “I guess so. I’ll miss you, sir.”

He laughed again. “You mean you’ll miss my record collection. Tell you what, why don’t you borrow one of my LPs, just to tide you over? But don’t scratch it. Okay?”

I nodded. I knew how important Harry’s records were to him. Even more so than his copy of Lord of the Flies—with his handwritten notes inside.

“What’s it going to be, then?” he said.

“Ziggy Stardust, please, sir.”

Mr. Clarke laughed at that. “You’re insatiable,” he said. “But let’s see what you think of this. I know you like the older stuff. You must be an old soul.” And then he opened his briefcase—not the box with the records in—and carefully took out an album. “Diamond Dogs. I think you’ll like this one,” he said. “It’s very dark and dystopian. Ziggy Stardust meets Lord of the Flies. Human beings in their animal forms cavorting at the end of the world.”