by Ronald Hart
THE SWIMMING CARNIVAL
“Give us an S!”
“S!”
“Give us an L!”
“L!”
“Give is an O!”
“O!”
“Give us a T!”
“T!”
“Give us an A!”
“A!”
“What does it spell?!”
Nobody said anything.
“Come on,” Joshua said. “What does it spell?”
“It doesn’t spelling anything,” Tiffany said.
“Yes it does,” Joshua said
“What?” Tiffany said. “Slota? What does slota mean?”
A few kids laughed.
“No,” Joshua said. “It’s slaughter.”
“You can’t spell,” Tiffany said.
“Whatever,” Joshua said. “My team is going to win this afternoon anyway. We’re going to slaughter you.”
Tiffany smirked. “Yeah, right!”
Miss Strickland stepped outside. “Let’s see two lines ready to come in please.”
The class lined up noisily, the carnival spirit already in full throttle.
Miss Strickland sighed. It was going to be one of ‘those’ days again.
“I know the swimming carnival is on today,” she said, “but it’s not until after morning tea. Save your excitement until then. We’ve got some Maths to do this morning.”
The class groaned.
“Do we have to?” Tiffany called out.
“Yes, we have to,” Miss Strickland said. “And if I have to wait much longer for everybody to be ready you’ll get some for homework too.”
The noise stopped.
“That’s better,” Miss Strickland said. “Forward in.”
As the children filed into the room, Andrew handed her a note. She unfolded it and read it quickly.
“Andrew, come here please,” she said, walking inside.
Andrew followed her quietly to her desk.
“Who wrote this note?” Miss Strickland asked.
“Mum,” Andrew mumbled, looking at the floor.
“Now, why don’t I believe you?” Miss Strickland asked.
Andrew shrugged.
Miss Strickland unfolded it again and read it out. “Dear Miss Strictland, please don’t make Andrew swim in the carnival today because he is sick. From my mum.”
The class laughed.
“Did you hear anything wrong?” Miss Strickland asked.
“Nope.”
“Bad luck, Andrew. You’re swimming. And you can pick up papers for me at morning tea for lying to me.”
“I didn’t bring my togs.”
“I’m sure we can find a spare pair for you somewhere,” Miss Strickland said. “Now, sit down.”
Mumbling something under his breath that was probably not very nice, Andrew sat down and sulked.
“Does anybody else have a note about why they can’t swim today?” Miss Strickland asked, waving Andrew’s in the air.
Nobody answered.
“Good,” Miss Strickland said. She scrunched it up and threw it into the bin under her desk. “Take out your Maths books, everyone.”
While the class got organized, Miss Strickland marked the roll.
“Miss Strickland, Joshua’s got flies in his desk!” Tiffany suddenly called out over the noise of opening tidy boxes, shuffling books and sharpening pencils.
Miss Strickland looked up from the roll book. “Tiffany, don’t call out. If you have something to say put up your hand.”
“But you were looking at your book,” Tiffany said. “You wouldn’t have seen me.”
“Well, that’s still not a reason to call out,” Miss Strickland said. “You could wait until I do look up or you could use a quiet voice and say, ‘Excuse me, Miss Strickland’, and then wait for me to look up and ask you what’s wrong.”
Tiffany sighed dramatically. “I suppose.”
“Let’s try it,” Miss Strickland said, and looked down at the roll book again.
Tiffany pulled a face and looked around the classroom.
“I’m waiting, Tiffany,” Miss Strickland said, still not looking up.
Trying to ignore the giggles around her, Tiffany gave in. “Excuse me, Miss Strickland,” she said softly.
Miss Strickland looked up. “Yes, Tiffany?”
“But you already know, Miss,” Tiffany said.
“I know,” Miss Strickland said, smiling. “But I want you to do it properly. What is it?”
Tiffany contemplated arguing, but decided not to this time. “Joshua has flies in his desk, Miss,” she said quietly.
“See, you can do it,” Miss Strickland said encouragingly.
“Maybe,” Tiffany mumbled.
Miss Strickland turned her attention to Joshua. “What’s this about having flies in your desk?”
“I’ve only got a few,” Joshua said.
“He’s got hundreds!” Tiffany exclaimed.
“Do not!” Joshua said loudly.
“Do so!” Tiffany shouted back. “I just saw you showing Shaun.”
“Enough!” Miss Strickland snapped.
“He pulls their wings off, Miss,” Tiffany continued. “I saw him the other day with his friends. They had a whole heap of them all walking around with their wings off. It’s really cruel.”
“Enough!” Miss Strickland repeated. She glared at Tiffany, then Joshua. “Where are they?” she asked.
“In his desk,” Tiffany said.
“Be quiet, Tiffany,” Miss Strickland said, “or we can arrange another practice during morning tea.”
Tiffany frowned.
Miss Strickland held out her hand. “Thank you, Joshua.”
Joshua opened his desk and took out a jam jar almost half full of flies.
Miss Strickland grimaced. “Oh, Joshua, that’s horrible.”
“They’re only flies,” Joshua said. “We kill them all the time.”
“But there’s no need to be cruel,” Miss Strickland said. “I won’t hear about it going on any more, okay?”
“Fine,” Joshua said.
“And we’ll have none of that attitude,” Miss Strickland said. She grabbed the jar gingerly from his hand.
“When can I get them back?” Joshua asked.
“You’re not,” Miss Strickland said, and dropped the jar into the bin on top of Andrew’s scrunched up note. “And that’s where it’s going to stay.” She picked up a pile of photocopied sheets. “Now, we’ve wasted enough time already. Naomi, can you hand these sheets out for me?”
“Yes, Miss,” Naomi said, springing from her chair.
“You’re dead,” Joshua mouthed at Tiffany.
“I’m so scared,” Tiffany mouthed back.
During morning tea everybody changed for the swimming carnival. Out came coloured t-shirts, ribbons and zinc cream, and assorted fluffy animals for team mascots. The teachers transformed too. Well, those who got into the spirit of the event did. Since it was her first carnival, Miss Strickland decided to go all out. She disappeared into the staff toilets as Miss Strickland and re-emerged ten minutes later as the Warriors team leader. The red shirt and pants from the local op shop were just right for the occasion, she thought, and the red ribbons in her hair and lipstick stripes on her cheeks added quite nicely to the overall effect.
“What team are you in, Miss?” Paul asked as she arrived at the classroom.
Miss Strickland flung out her arms. “Guess.”
“The Warriors?” Paul suggested.
“Congratulations,” Miss Strickland said.
“The Warriors are dags,” Joshua said.
“Thank you for that observation, Joshua,” Miss Strickland said.
Joshua grinned. “That’s okay, Miss. The Dragons are going to slaughter everybody.”
“You mean slota everybody,” Tiffany said, and laughed.
“Alright, lining up everybody,” Miss Strickland said. “Have you got your togs, Andrew?”
“Yes,” Andrew grumbl
ed, holding up a plastic bag. “Mum must have put them in my bag.”
“Good,” Miss Strickland said. “Off we go then. And stay in two lines, please.”
They walked down to the pool at the far end of the school grounds. It was only a 25m one, but it was big enough for a primary school carnival. It had a grandstand too, which was great because everyone had a seat in the shade.
Most of the classes had already arrived. The changing rooms were stuffed full of kids and those who had already changed into their togs were making themselves at home on the grandstand. The teachers as usual were yelling their heads off, but they didn’t seem to be having much effect.
“Year five, get changed quickly and move to your teams on the grandstand,” Miss Strickland said at the gate. “And don’t let me see anybody running.”
As most the class ran to the changing rooms, Mr Barker’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers.
“I want to see everybody sitting down in their teams,” he said. “We have a lot to get through today.”
Children began to move to their areas, and after a lot of yelling from the teachers, they moved more quickly and were eventually all sitting and ready to listen.
Miss Strickland sat at the front of the Warriors and tried to compose herself for the afternoon. House Duty was the worst job. She looked enviously at the teachers who had been chosen to be timekeepers and place judges. They stood in a small group at the shallow end of the pool, talking and laughing amongst themselves. It looked as though they were having a marvelous time.
“Hurry up those children I can still hear in the changing rooms!” Mr Barker’s voice bellowed. “We want to start.”
Several children appeared and walked quickly around the pool to the grandstand.
Mr Barker welcomed everybody and then explained the procedures and some pool safety rules. Then he handed the microphone over to Mr Bull, the PE teacher, who called out the first few races. A stream of children made their way to the deep end.
Miss Strickland checked the names off on her list.
“Miss Strickland,” Tiffany said.
Miss Strickland looked up and almost laughed.
Tiffany posed in front of her wearing red bikinis, red sandals, a red floppy hat and sunglasses.
“Yes, Tiffany?” she said, trying hard to control herself.
“Don’t you think I look glamorous, Miss? Mum knitted these especially for today.”
“Of course you do, Tiffany,” Miss Strickland said. “Are you sure you can race in them?”
“I can if I’m careful,” Tiffany said. “Mum said that I have to slip into the pool carefully and blow dry them as soon as I get out or they might stretch.”
“I see,” Miss Strickland said. “Well, go and sit down until it’s time for your race.”
“Okay, Miss,” Tiffany said, and made her way as elegantly as she could to the top of the grandstand where her friends were.
Miss Strickland shook her head and returned to her list of names.
By lunch time the teams were really getting into the spirit of the event, chanting their war cries, stamping on the seats and doing Mexican Waves. The point tally was close too. Only seven points separated the three teams. Out in front with 234 points was the Warriors, followed closely by the Dragons on 230 points and then the Stallions on 227 points.
All the 50m races had been done. There were only a few 25m races for the poor swimmers, the relays and the championship races to go.
Miss Strickland took advantage of a lull in the events for a quick snack. She put her program down and pulled a muesli bar from her bag. However, as she tore off the wrapper, Tiffany and her army of friends hurried up to her.
“Miss Strickland, he’s doing it again!” Tiffany complained loudly from under her floppy hat.
“Who’s doing what again?” Miss Strickland asked.
“Joshua,” Sally said. “He’s pulling wings off flies again.”
“Where is he?” Miss Strickland said tiredly.
“Under the grandstand,” Shayna said, her head looking like a light globe with her massive mop of black fuzzy hair squashed inside a red bathing cap. “He’s feeding them to lizards. We saw him through the seats.”
“Okay, thank you girls,” Miss Strickland said. She put her muesli bar in her bag again, stood up and walked towards the end of the grandstand.
The girls followed her like a flock of excited chickens.
“Go away, girls,” Miss Strickland said. “I’m sure I can do this by myself.”
“But we want to see him get busted,” Tiffany said.
“I’m sure you do,” Miss Strickland said. “But I’m going to have to deny you that little pleasure today.”
“That’s not fair, Miss,” Tiffany complained.
“Go away,” Miss Strickland said more sternly.
“Come on guys,” Tiffany said, and led her group away.
Miss Strickland found Joshua and his friends huddled together under the grandstand just as the girls had said.
“Good afternoon, boys,” she said.
They jumped and turned around, guilty.
“What are you doing?” Miss Strickland asked.
“Nothing,” Joshua said.
“Let’s see what nothing is,” Miss Strickland said. “Move aside, please.”
Reluctantly, they shuffled aside and Miss Strickland saw several wingless flies walking around on the concrete.
“What did I tell you this morning, Joshua?” Miss Strickland said, annoyed.
“Not to do it anymore?”
“Correct!” Miss Strickland said loudly. “What you should be doing is sitting on the grandstand cheering your team on. Off you go. I’ll catch up with you all tomorrow at lunch time for a detention.”
The boys got up and walked away.
“Good one, Joshua,” one of them grumbled.
Miss Strickland looked down at the flies and for a moment almost felt sorry for them. They looked so helpless just walking around like that.
“Hello Miss Strickland!” Tiffany’s voice suddenly called from above.
Miss Strickland looked up to see Tiffany and her friends peering down from the gaps in the seating.
Miss Strickland gave a little wave. “Hello girls.”
“Did you give them a detention, Miss?”
“That’s none of your business, Tiffany,” Miss Strickland said.
She looked down again, and to her surprise saw that the concrete at her feet was bare. All the flies had disappeared.
“That’s strange”, she muttered.
“Listen carefully as I call out the names for event number 55!” Mr Barker’s voice boomed.
Miss Strickland hurried back to her seat.
Tiffany’s race was a real highlight of the day. Well, it was for Tiffany anyway.
“Wish me luck!” she said to her friends as she made her way down the grandstand steps.
“Leave your hat, sandals and glasses behind,” Miss Strickland said.
“Oh, but I can’t,” Tiffany said. “I have sensitive skin and eyes.”
“Five minutes in the sun isn’t going to do anything,” Miss Strickland said.
Tiffany pouted. “Can I at least keep my glasses on? The sun’s really glary.”
Miss Strickland sighed. “Very well.”
“Thanks.” Tiffany flung the hat and sandals into Miss Strickland’s lap and hurriedly made her way to the deep end.
“Take your blocks,” Mr Bull said.
Tiffany and the other girls stood on their blocks.
“Get set.”
The girls bent over and pointed their arms towards the water.
“Go!”
The girls dived in. Well, all but one of the girls did. As the others splashed into the pool, Tiffany stepped from her block to the ladder. Carefully, she climbed into the water. By the time she began to swim, the rest of the swimmers were almost a third of the way. The Warriors booed and the other teams laughed.
“Tiffany, you�
�re supposed to be doing freestyle,” Mr Bull said.
“I can’t,” Tiffany said, holding her head up high as she did a casual breaststroke.
“Why not?”
“Because my sunglasses will get wet.”
“Give them to me,” Mr Bull said.
“No, I can manage,” Tiffany said, and continued swimming.
By the time she reached the end the Warriors had given up booing and were cheering the next race. Tiffany waved at her friends, then disappeared into the change rooms to blow dry her bikinis.
“Right, Andrew, off you go,” Miss Strickland said.
“I don’t want to,” he said. “I feel sick.”
“Don’t give me that,” Miss Strickland said. “It’s only 25m. It’ll be over before you know it. If you don’t go in you don’t get a point and that could mean the difference to our team winning or losing.”
“I don’t mind,” Andrew said.
“I do,” Miss Strickland said. “Off you go.”
Andrew pulled off his t-shirt and ambled slowly down to the end of the pool.
“Okay, listen for your names,” Mr Bull said. “In lane one we have Ben Harrison, in lane two we have Andrew McCrindle, in lane three we have James Faulkner, in lane four we have Sam Fuller and in lane five we have Craig Mullins. Stand behind your blocks, boys.”
The boys moved behind their blocks.
Andrew gazed along the length of the pool. It was easy for Miss Strickland to say that it was only 25m, but she wasn’t the one who had to swim it. It looked like miles.
“Take your blocks,” Mr Bull said.
Andrew stepped onto the block and gulped. The part of the day he had dreaded the most had finally arrived.
“Take your marks.”
Andrew bent over and pointed his fingers at the water. He took a breath.
“Go!”
Andrew tried to jump as far as he could. The further he went the less he’d have to swim. It was a pretty good dive, really. As he went under though, the force of the water tugged on his board shorts, and before he knew it they were down around his ankles.
Aware that everybody could see his backside, he frantically fumbled around and pulled them up again. Embarrassed and angry, he began to swim, thrashing madly but not getting very far very quickly. He could hear laughing and shouting, but he kept on swimming. Even though he was going to be last again, he was determined to make it to the end. Getting out half way would be even worse than coming last.
After what seemed like an eternity, he glanced ahead to see how far he still had to go, and was surprised when he didn’t see any other swimmers. He glanced to the sides and didn’t see anybody either. With a shock he realized that he must be winning. Maybe the embarrassment had given him an extra burst of strength.
He tried to swim even harder. In the background he could still hear laughing and shouting. Maybe the laughing was because he was beating the better swimmers for a change.
With a final wild thrashing of his arms and legs, he reached the end of the pool, and stood up, gasping.
One of the place judges bent down towards him.
“Did I win?” Andrew gasped.
“I’m sorry, dear,” the judge said, “but it was a false start.”
With a sinking feeling in his guts, Andrew looked back to see everybody else in his race still standing on their blocks, and he realized what all the laughing had been about.
“Hop out and try again,” the place judge said.
Andrew climbed out, but instead of going back to the deep end he ducked into the change rooms and didn’t come out again until the end of the carnival.
The last event of the day was the championship race. The five fastest kids in the school were going to race each other, and the winner would get ten points for their team. The Stallions didn’t have a hope of winning, but the Dragons and Warriors had only six points between them. If the Dragons won the championship race they’d win the carnival.
Joshua was in the Dragons, and he was their only swimmer who had made it into the final race. He stood at the end of the pool, trying to look like an ironman.
“He thinks he’s just so good,” Tiffany told her friends loudly. “If he wins the race he’s going to brag about it for the rest of the year. I can’t stand people who brag about themselves. I’m glad I’m not like that.”
“Take your blocks,” Mr Bull said.
The five swimmers stepped up onto their blocks. Mr Barker, full of the carnival spirit, announced each swimmer by name and gave each team time to shout out its war cry.
By the time the last swimmer had been announced and the last war cry had been shouted, everybody was so hyped up they didn’t notice the small, black cloud appear over the top of the Lilly Pilly tree at the other end of the pool and rapidly make its way towards the waiting swimmers.
“Take your marks!” Mr Bull shouted over the cheering.
As Joshua bent over, he suddenly saw the cloud approaching. But before he could do anything, it swarmed around him. He quickly discovered that the cloud was in fact thousands and thousands of flies, and he began to flap his arms around wildly in a vain attempt to beat them away.
Before anybody had a chance to do anything other than gape in surprise, the flies formed a pulsating ball shape in the air above Joshua’s head, made an extra loud buzzing sound, then disappeared over the roof of the changing rooms.
Joshua stood on his block, gasping.
The noise in the grandstand had died away.
“Are you okay, Joshua?” Mr Bull asked.
Joshua blinked. “Um, I think so.” He coughed and a stray fly buzzed out of his mouth and followed its friends.
Mr Bull gave Mr Barker the thumbs up.
“Let’s give our swimmers a cheer!” Mr Barker bellowed through the loudspeakers.
Everyone in the grandstand yelled at the tops of their voices.
Feeling a bit wobbly, Joshua tried to focus his attention on the race.
“Take your marks!” Mr Bull shouted.
As the swimmers bent over, there was the sudden sound of tearing material, and Joshua felt a cold breeze on his backside as his togs ripped into pieces as small as confetti and fluttered like snow to the ground.
There was a roar of laughter from the grandstand.
Joshua yelped, covered his private bits with his hands and dashed into the changing rooms.
The Warriors, realizing that now they’d win the carnival, began to cheer.
“He won’t be pulling any more wings off flies”, Miss Strickland said, and smiled.
