“NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITS!!!!” Daphne screamed. Immediately people started digging into their scalps and looking under their fingernails.
Suddenly everyone was screaming: “NIIIIIIITS!!!!!!” and scratching and shaking their heads, scattering little white eggs and black creepy crawlies everywhere. Out of instinct Miss Carrol climbed up onto the desk.
Minnie turned to Elizabella. “Psst. What are nits?”
Elizabella stared at her. Minnie always knew everything, how could she not have heard of nits?
“They’re like a little parasite that lays eggs in your hair and feasts on your scalp. Well, actually, the ‘nits’ are the eggs. When they hatch they’re called ‘lice’. But for some reason we tend to just call them nits.” Elizabella saw Minnie’s eyes widen and widen and her hands instinctively grab her hair, which was the longest of anyone in the school, and go to tie it up in a bun.
“Ava!” Minnie yelled across the room. “Can I borrow a–”
Elizabella cut her off. “I wouldn’t,” she said, as she peered at Ava’s lunch box full of hair elastics, which appeared to be crawling.
Huck ran to the classroom door, flung it open and yelled into the corridor: “NIIIIITS!!! OUTBREAK!!!!! NIIIIITS!!! OUTBREAK!!!!”
Kids poured out of all the classrooms and soon the cries could be heard up and down the halls. “NITS! NITS!!!! EVERYONE HAS NITS!!!”
And then came the unmistakable sound of Mr Gobblefrump in his big, blue plastic sandals clomping down the hallway. He bellowed out one syllable per step: “What. Is. Go. Ing. On?”
Elizabella ran her eyes around the room. Amid all the commotion, Sandy sat smiling, happy as a bug in a leaf.
Of course, thought Elizabella. She remembered that Sandy’s mum shaved his head every week so that he would never get nits. He was about the only person protected. Elizabella certainly wasn’t, she realised as she scratched deep around her knot. Oh no! she thought. I hope I don’t have to cut it off!
For a school to work properly there must be a certain observance of The Rules. This notion was extremely close to Mr Gobblefrump’s heart, and the primary reason he steadfastly updated the Bilby Creek Primary School Rule Book every year, and more often if necessary. The Rules marked out the invisible line between order and chaos and when the rules were gone, anything could happen.
After stomping around the corridors and seeing all the head-scratching and screaming of the word “NITS!” over and over, he correctly deduced there had been an outbreak.
“It’s time,” he said to himself. Then he calmly pulled the Rule Book out of his pocket. He turned to “L” for “Lice”.
In the event of a lice outbreak, several rules will be broken almost immediately. Children may flood into INCORRECT places in the school grounds, standing on tables, swinging from blackboards, etc.
Mr Gobblefrump looked around. This was certainly the case.
They may RUN instead of WALK, and their movement may be disorderly – perhaps in figure eights instead of straight lines.
Mr Gobblefrump looked at the children streaming about in figure eights and circles and shapes he couldn’t even make out. “Check, check,” he said.
If these things have occurred, you have LOST order and as a first port of call, you must RESTORE it.
“But how? Why aren’t you telling me how?” Mr Gobblefrump asked the Rule Book. Which was somewhat ridiculous given a) books can’t talk and b) he was the author so if he had any issue with any of the book’s contents he must take them up with himself.
How, you might ask? the book said.
Mr Gobblefrump cursed the Rule Book for these pointless delay tactics.
“On with it, Book!”
Get your megaphone and scream everybody into assembly in the playground.
“Right!” he said. He went into his room and grabbed the megaphone. He remembered it was broken. “I bite my thumb at thee, megaphone!” he declared, yelling Shakespeare at the contraption again. “Right, it will have to be all me.” He did a quick vocal warm- up. “Mee, mee, mee, mee, meeeeeeeeeee!” he sang, getting his pipes ready for the task. Then he started marching down the corridor, screaming.
“EVERYONE GET INTO THE PLAYGROUND RIGHT NOW! RUSH, RUSH, THIS IS URGENT!”
He glanced down at the Rule Book.
Please make sure your screams urge everyone to calm down. Scream calmingly.
Mr Gobblefrump stared at the book. If it was possibly to achieve a state of fury with a book that you wrote, Mr Gobblefrump certainly had.
“CALMLY! RUSH CALMLY INTO ASSEMBLY IN THE PLAYGROUND!”
After quite a bit of screaming, so much so that Mr Gobblefrump’s toupee had slipped down and was now covering his eyes and nose, his message started to get through and children began to make their way into the playground. They gathered in their class groups, itching all the while.
Elizabella and Minnie were now in the assembly that was forming of hundreds of kids all scratching their heads. Minnie had found a beanie in her bag and had tucked all of her hair up into it. She was walking on tiptoes to keep even more distance between her head and all the other children. Elizabella had pulled the back of her shirt over her own head as a protective measure, although she suspected it might be too late.
“Look,” said Minnie, pointing at the teachers. In a normal assembly, the teachers would stand in front of their class groups, making sure they were in nice straight lines, but, save for Mr Gobblefrump, there wasn’t a single teacher outside. Elizabella turned to where Minnie was pointing. At the window of the staffroom, what seemed like the entire teaching body was huddled, staring out at the children like they were dangerous animals.
Mr Crab, who ran the office with his husband Mr Biffington, came out in a shower cap to help Mr Gobblefrump. Mr Biffington had run to the office and was desperately trying to wrap their dog Ralph in cling wrap to protect him. Ralph came to work with the Biffington–Crabs every day and usually sat in the office, where he could have been petted by any number of nit-riddled children who had come through.
“Compose a note,” Mr Gobblefrump instructed, “to go home with all the children.”
While Mr Gobblefrump attempted to maintain order, waiting for those last remaining minutes before the end-of-day bell, he thought to himself, Given our financial situation, this is about the last thing we need right now.
Later that afternoon, Elizabella was in the bathroom at home with a comb and a lunch box. She had given the note regarding the nit infestation to her dad, but then had quickly gone to the bathroom to enact a plan.
Elizabella hated nits – who didn’t? Yet she was always trying to find the usefulness in everything. She knew that her dad was about to douse her head in about a litre of nit and lice-killing liquid, so she thought before that happened, maybe she could collect them. She had the thin-toothed metal comb and was pulling it through her hair, being careful not to touch her giant knot, which she was going to avoid brushing out at all costs. After each comb-through, she’d examine it for crawly black things and little white eggs. When she’d see them, she’d gently pull them off the comb and put them in the lunch box.
After about half an hour of intermittent knocking on the door to check on her, Martin insisted on coming in.
“Elizabella, what’s going on in there? It’s time for your nit treatment.”
Elizabella thought her dad may not understand why she was keeping nits in a lunch box, especially as she didn’t quite understand it herself yet either. So she put the lid on them and hid the box in a cupboard of the vanity that nobody ever bothered with, behind an assortment of yellowing bandaids in unhelpful shapes and medical creams for skin ailments that nobody could remember having. She could probably leave the nits in there until she went to university and no one would find them. Elizabella was looking forward to uni. It was a place her older cousin Jacinta went to where, according to Jacinta, the teachers didn’t yell at you if you missed class and you were allowed to wear whatever you wanted.
&nbs
p; “Come in, Dad!” she said, unlocking the door.
“All right!” said Martin. “Let’s deal with those nits.”
“Okay,” said Elizabella, “but please, please be careful not to unknot my knot.”
“Elizabella, I simply can’t promise that. Getting rid of the lice is more important.”
Elizabella stared at him, shocked. “But, Dad!”
“No buts,” he said, rather sternly, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves with a snap. “I’m sorry – it is what it is.” And with that Martin took the bottle of Die Nits, Die!™ foam, gave it a big squeeze and poured it liberally all over Elizabella’s head. Then with absolutely no regard for her knot, he began to comb through her hair. As he’d get to the end of each clump of strands, he’d squeeze the crawling foam onto a bit of toilet paper and inspect it.
“Dad, I really don’t think you understand how important my knot is,” she protested.
“Elizabella, it’s a knot for Pete’s sake,” said Martin, combing through it.
“Who’s Pete?”
“Honestly, Elizabella,” Martin said, continuing to pull the comb through the knot. “There are priorities, and right now the priority is getting you nit-free so you can go back to school.”
“Dad! I’ve had this knot in my hair since Mum died.”
Martin stopped. He looked down at Elizabella, tears welling in her eyes. He looked at her sopping hair, and the smooth strands where the big knot once was. Martin knew Elizabella was attached to her knot, but he’d never known why.
“Oh, Elizabella,” he said. And he leaned down and gave her a big hug, letting her weep into his shoulder even though it meant getting his shirt covered in Die Nits Die!™.
Thing is, everyone in Elizabella’s family had knotty hair, including Elizabella’s mum.
“There’s nothing wrong with knots,” she used to tell Elizabella. “And they can be useful. They make it easy to stick decorations in your hair, like a Christmas tree. And they make for a good hiding place.”
“Do you remember how Mum used to hide things in the knots in her hair?” Elizabella asked her dad now, through her sniffles.
“Of course. If I ever wanted to find a ten-dollar note to go buy some milk and bread, your mum’s hair was the first place I would search.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry, Elizabella. You can get the knot back in no time. You have your mother’s genes, after all.”
Elizabella sat there thinking, trying not to mope as her dad finished the job, combing through her hair over and over. She wasn’t the only one suffering. Elizabella thought of all the other kids in their bathrooms enduring the same thing right now.
Except for Sandy, she thought and smiled.
Martin gazed at his little girl. He felt terrible about the knot, and somehow she was already smiling. He wondered what lovely thoughts were swirling through that magnificent brain of hers. He had a sudden urge to know.
“Elizabella, do you want to eat dinner in the park with me?”
Elizabella glanced up at her dad.
“Ummm . . . Yes!”
“Toddberry is shut up in his room and doesn’t want to be disturbed until he’s killed some sort of Green Rectum fellow or some such. So this will be a Daddy-Daughter Dinner.”
Elizabella cleaned herself up while Martin went to the kitchen. He made two ham sandwiches and found a leftover pad thai in the fridge. Then he got some ice cream and jam and put it all in a basket with a flask of tea and some cutlery. He knew Elizabella liked to eat as many flavours as she could at once.
In the park, Elizabella spread out a thick blanket and they sat down while Martin laid out the spread. Elizabella was impressed.
“Dad, thanks for the I’m Sorry About Your Knot Dinner.”
Martin was slightly taken aback. “I just wanted to have dinner with my favourite girl human in the world.”
“Yeah, I know you feel bad about the knot,” Elizabella said. “Parents don’t know this but when they feel guilty turquoise light beams shoot out of their heads and only kids can see them.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, and they start to smell like old tea bags.”
“Old tea bags? That’s not very pleasant!”
“No, it’s an okay smell, kids don’t mind it.”
“They don’t?”
“No, plus the smell of Guilty Dinners usually masks it pretty well.”
Martin laughed and they started to eat.
They saw Mr Biffington and Mr Crab walking through the park with Ralph. They spotted Elizabella and looked a little cautious.
“It’s okay!” Elizabella exclaimed. “My dad killed all the nits and lice, like fifty times over. I’m nit-free!” She patted her knees and Ralph came bounding over. He jumped up on Elizabella and licked her face. Teachers weren’t really supposed to have favourites, but there were no such rules for teachers’ dogs – and Elizabella was definitely Ralph’s favourite.
“Would Ralph like some pad thai?” she asked Mr Biffington and Mr Crab.
“Oh, that’s very generous of you, Elizabella, but it will spoil his dinner. And he doesn’t really eat human food.”
“Fair enough,” said Elizabella. “All dogs have different rules.”
Elizabella opened the ice cream. She was just spreading jam over the creamy surface when she heard barking, and it wasn’t coming from Ralph. It was Freddy and Teddy.
“Oh no!” said Elizabella as the dogs came over, making a beeline for her dessert. “You guys are only allowed ice cream on your birthdays!”
“Thanks!” said their owner, gratefully. “They’re always trying to sneak ice cream but they know the rule: only on your birthdays! Now come on, let’s leave these people to their picnic.” And with that Freddy, Teddy and their owner were off.
“And how on earth did you know about their ice cream rule?” asked her dad. Elizabella shrugged, cheekily.
Martin, Mr Biffington and Mr Crab all looked at Elizabella, bemused. She never, ever ceased to surprise anyone.
Elizabella set off to school wondering what it would be like. After the chaos of yesterday, she had no idea how many of her fellow Bilby Creek Primary School students would actually show up.
“Hi, Huck,” she said, bumping into him on the way. “You got rid of all your lice?”
“Yes,” he said. “But Mum says I have to do one more treatment just in case. Elizabella, you look different somehow . . . Are you wearing new shoes?”
“No, look closer.”
Huck peered at his friend up and down.
“Your knot! It’s gone!”
Elizabella sighed. “I know. It’s going to take me forever to get it back to where it was.”
Huck glanced at his friend’s smoothed down hair.
“It’s nice!” he said. Then he remembered himself. “Fine. It’s fine. I mean, it’s not bad. Whatever.”
Elizabella changed the subject.
“Isn’t your mum going on a date with my dad tonight?” she asked, suddenly remembering.
“Yuck, yes. They’re going ice skating.”
“How romantic!” said Elizabella with a big shudder. They both started making vomit noises.
When they arrived at the school, Mr Gobblefrump was standing at the gate. There was a big sign on a sandwich board next to him that said NIT PATROL CHECKPOINT. He had a shower cap over his toupee and he was holding a magnifying glass.
“Why the shower cap, Mr Gobblefrump?” Elizabella asked him.
“To avoid nits!” he said.
“Can toupees catch nits?” she asked.
“I’m not taking any chances!” he replied. “Now come here.” And with his gloved hands he peered at Elizabella’s scalp through the microscope. When he was satisfied, he yelled “CLEAR!” and made a note in his book. It was Huck’s turn. When they’d both got through Nit Patrol Checkpoint they wandered into the school grounds.
“There aren’t many people around,” Huck observed. They scanned the playground; dark thunderclouds had joi
ned together and loomed over the school like a sad, grey hat.
“This isn’t going to be good for Miss Duck’s sales,” said Elizabella.
“Look!” said Huck, pointing at the tuckshop. There was newspaper in the windows and a big, shiny sign on the front.
NUTRIICORP EATING ESTABLISHMENT
OPENING TOMORROW AT 0800 HOURS
Miss Duck was nowhere to be seen.
“Oh no!” cried Elizabella. She ran back to Mr Gobblefrump. “Mr Gobblefrump, Mr Gobblefrump!”
He peered up from where he was inspecting the head of Irma in Year Five. “Yes, Elizabella?”
“Where’s Miss Duck?”
Mr Gobblefrump sighed. “CLEAR!” he cried ushering Irma into the school. Then he turned to Elizabella. “I’m very sad to say that the long and glorious reign of Miss Duck at the tuckshop has come to an end.”
“But you didn’t give her a chance to quadruple her profits! She was just getting started with the slogans!”
Mr Gobblefrump raised an eyebrow. “And how do you know she needed to quadruple her profits?”
Elizabella was so upset she had forgotten that she only knew this information from eavesdropping. “Umm . . .”
“Listen, Elizabella. I know how much Miss Duck meant to the school and how much the school meant to her.”
“Meant? You’re already talking about her in past tense?”
“This lice outbreak was the last straw,” Mr Gobblefrump continued. “I’ve had to spend all the school’s chalk budget for the next year on resources to get these lice under control.” He pointed at the rubber gloves and big bucket of plastic combs next to him, and the various tubes and tubs and lotions he was ready to squirt onto any offending heads that tried to pass through the Bilby Creek Primary School gates.
The bell rang, signalling the beginning of school.
“Mr Gobblefrump, you can’t let Nutriicorp take over! What about Miss Duck?”
“Elizabella, to your class line please!”
“Nutriicorp make something called Brown Flakes, which are supposed to be a cereal, but they taste like eating chopped-up postcards!”
Elizabella and the Great Tuckshop Takeover Page 4
