by Tim Harris
A policeman was conducting traffic at a busy intersection. He held up an arm to stop the vehicles in one direction, while waving other cars through with his free hand.
‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ said Gabby. ‘Maybe you should conduct the conductor.’
I pointed the baton at the police officer and he suddenly froze. All traffic stopped, unsure how to proceed.
‘What on earth is that copper doing?’ growled the bus driver.
I swished the baton and the policeman’s limbs began jolting out in random directions. Two cars from opposite sides of the lights rolled forward and nearly crashed into each other. They beeped their horns in alarm.
A truck drove through the intersection and almost collided with another one that thought it had right of way. It was chaos. As the officer waved his arms about, the traffic jerked and screeched, forming a complex jigsaw of vehicles. The air was filled with tooting horns and skidding tyres.
‘Begerk!’ said the bus driver.
Morning assembly was just as fun. I conducted Mrs Tilly to walk around the stage like a gorilla. She scratched under her arms and picked out invisible nits from her hair – eating them, of course!
Miss Treblenote must have noticed my cheeky allegretto mode. She gave me a suspicious look, so I pocketed the baton and pretended nothing had happened.
When it was time for another band rehearsal at lunch, Miss Treblenote was still onto me.
‘That baton you chose yesterday,’ she said, ‘may I see it?’
I reluctantly handed her my elegant weapon and she examined it. My heart was in my mouth. Did she know of its secret powers?
‘Was there a blue jay on the case?’ she asked.
I couldn’t lie. Miss Treblenote was always so nice to me. I nodded.
The teacher let out a soft giggle and shook her head. ‘I thought so. I think I know who this belongs to … an old friend of mine from teaching school. He’ll probably say he lost it, but knowing him, he would have left it there on purpose.’
I raised an eyebrow.
Miss Treblenote could tell I wasn’t following. ‘But you don’t need to worry about who this belongs to, Grace. What’s important is preparing for the concert.’ She handed the baton back to me, but not before I caught a sparkle in her eye. It was as though a special memory had lifted her mood.
The orchestra finished tuning. I stood behind Miss Treblenote, shaping the music’s sound and phrasing with gusto. I had memorised the entire piece now. Music filled the concert hall with perfect pitch and precision, carrying a bright melody to the furthest corners of the building.
As I waved my arms, I wondered about the piece of wood between my fingertips. It glowed with warmth. Who did it belong to? I wondered if I would ever find out.
My thoughts became wrapped up in the music. I raised my arms and increased the volume of the band into a roaring crescendo. I, the quietest student at Blue Valley Grammar, was making the loudest sound. The baton had given me a voice.
The song ended and Miss Treblenote beamed at me. ‘You have a real gift for music, Grace. I’ve not known a student to become one with the melody the way you do.’
I held the baton tightly.
‘Remember, the real magic of your conducting happens in there,’ said Miss Treblenote. She pointed to my heart.
I smiled.
‘I feel we don’t need another rehearsal before the special assembly on Friday,’ announced the teacher. ‘You’re all ready.’
My fingers tingled around the baton. Was I truly ready? Only time would tell.
The hall was packed with hundreds of guests – mostly parents and other relatives of the students. The room buzzed with electricity. Gabby had even let me wear her new black dress. She told me I looked beautiful.
Miss Treblenote introduced the band to the audience. She used the baton to help with the final tune-up, then carefully handed it back to me. She placed it between my fingers and wrapped her warm hands around mine. ‘Remember, Grace, I believe in you.’
I faced the orchestra and swished the baton through the air, forgetting about all the silly things I had done with it. Instead, I focused on the tune, playing it as purely as possible. It was strange. The baton felt neither warm nor cold in my hand. Though it didn’t really matter. The orchestra played like never before, treating the guests to a faultless rendition. Although I couldn’t see the looks on their faces, I could tell by the silence behind me that the crowd was in a trance.
I finished the song and the audience burst into thunderous applause. I took a bow and, for the briefest of moments, moved my lips in readiness to say thank you. I stopped myself and smiled instead. Although happier than I’d ever been, I couldn’t start talking now – not when I’d gone my whole life without uttering a word.
At the end of assembly, Miss Treblenote shook my hand. ‘That was an incredible performance, Grace,’ she said. ‘It’s safe to say you’ve found your voice.’
I held the baton up, ready to give it back now that the performance was over.
‘There’s no need to give it back,’ said Miss Treblenote. ‘You may keep it.’
It was then I noticed something about the baton wasn’t right. The handle was a different colour to the stick, and the tip was a lighter shade of wood to the reddish mahogany I had grown accustomed to.
Miss Treblenote winked at me. ‘Only a fool relies on the power of a tool for confidence.’
I could see the tip of the magic baton in Miss Treblenote’s pocket. She saw me looking and tucked it out of view. ‘I’ve always believed in you, Grace. But I was reminded of some advice an old friend once gave me.’ She tapped her pocket where the baton was hidden. ‘It’s best to teach children to believe in themselves.’
Mr Sternblast tiptoed towards room 12B early Friday morning. While usually one to storm into a classroom like a raging tornado, he tried a sneaky approach this time, hoping to catch Mr Bambuckle out at something. He poked his balding head slowly around the door, looking a little like an angry puppet on a stick.
‘Mr Sternblast,’ said the teacher, flipping a pancake in his frypan, ‘maple syrup or butter?’
‘I’ll have no such thing,’ snapped the principal, annoyed that his cover had been blown so easily.
Dodger chirped softly inside Mr Bambuckle’s jacket pocket, having tipped off the class to the approaching danger.
The students sat quietly at their desks, working on maths problems. They were trained well by their teacher – not merely acting out the illusion of learning, but attacking the exercises with the determined skill of astute problem solvers.
Mr Sternblast cleared his throat to make an announcement. ‘There have been reports of students from this class leaving the school in taxis. A most ridiculous accusation. However, mark my words … it’s being investigated and if there is any hint of truth to this, you’ll all be expelled!’
‘On what grounds?’ said Albert.
‘On the school grounds, of course,’ said Slugger.
Mr Sternblast slammed his fist on Slugger’s desk. ‘Enough with the stupidity, Mr Choppers. I’m onto this class. I know you’re up to something, and I’ll be watching everyone like a hawk. Something isn’t right. I’ll find out what it is if it’s the last thing I do!’
With that, he turned and marched out the door faster than Slugger could say ‘school grounds’.
‘We’ll need extra cover,’ said Miss Frost, entering the room a moment later. She had taken no chances and followed the principal. ‘He’s suspicious, and we can’t take any risks.’
‘Excuse me, Miss Frost,’ said Victoria, gaping at the assistant principal, ‘your hair … near the bobby pin, did you dye it? Because it –’
‘You will not speak of my bobby pin – not ever!’ hissed Miss Frost. It had been a sensitive topic in the past, and it appeared nothing had changed. The desperation of the situation with Vex had her on edge.
Mr Bambuckle quickly defused the situation. ‘Yes, a plan to throw Mr Sternbl
ast off our scent … what a wonderful idea.’
He tossed a pancake to Sammy Bamford.
‘Thanks,’ said Sammy, who always enjoyed the teacher’s cooking.
‘Consider it fuel for a busy morning,’ said Mr Bambuckle.
Sammy took a bite and licked his lips. He knew his teacher well, and there was clearly a point to the conversation. ‘What do I have to do?’
Mr Bambuckle answered by flipping a pancake to Miffy. ‘And fuel for you, Miss Armstrong.’
Miffy held the pancake to her nose and inhaled. ‘Yum.’
‘It is no secret, Sammy and Miffy, that you are the fastest runners in the class. Today we need you to create a distraction. How long can you run around the school for?’
‘How long do you need us to?’ said Miffy, confident of her and Sammy’s stamina.
‘I suppose that depends on how long Mr Sternblast can last,’ chuckled the teacher. ‘I want you to lead him on a wild-goose chase around the school. Ensure he gets nowhere near our room or the path to the taxi stand. Oh, and feel free to pop into the canteen for snacks. I had Carol whip up something special for you.’
‘On it,’ said Sammy and Miffy, bursting out of the room like cheetahs.
Miss Frost frowned. ‘So you’ve bought us some time. Now, what about the main problem? I propose I take up the search for Vex on my own. We can’t afford to send anyone else out, especially since we lost track of him yesterday.’
Mr Bambuckle thought about this for a moment. He knew Miss Frost’s icy persona had been thawing, and he had a plan to quicken the process. ‘I do believe that’s another splendid idea. However, I have just one suggestion.’
The assistant principal sighed. ‘Go on.’
‘I think it’s best you take one of the students with you. It would be a wonderful chance for you to see just how capable these children are.’
Miss Frost clenched the muscles in her jaw. ‘All right then. If any of the students are willing to come with me, I’ll take them along. Who wants to come?’
The children in room 12B sat frozen in their seats. Although they could sense the changes coming over Miss Frost, their memories warned them off. They hadn’t forgotten the time she shredded Victoria’s work for no good reason, or when she announced discipline was the new order. And they certainly hadn’t forgotten the time she expelled Scarlett Geeves from Blue Valley. The idea of being alone with her sent shivers down their spines.
‘There,’ said Miss Frost. ‘Nobody is willing. Nobody is brave enough.’
Mr Bambuckle held up his hand, suggesting she wait before leaving.
Miss Frost was becoming impatient. ‘Like I’ve already said, nobody is brave enough – let me be on my way.’
‘I’m brave enough,’ said a quiet voice.
‘Evie Nightingale,’ said Mr Bambuckle, filled with pride. ‘I knew you would find the courage. I knew it the first day I met you.’
Evie stood up from her desk and walked over to Miss Frost. ‘Come on,’ she said, taking the teacher’s hand. ‘Let’s find Vex.’
Speechless, and perhaps sensing more strands of her hair changing colour – something she had noticed in the mirror at home the night before – Miss Frost was led out of the room by one of Blue Valley School’s bravest students.
Just before morning tea, Sammy and Miffy returned to the classroom, trailed by Miss Frost and Evie. There was still no sign of Vex.
‘I believe we have found his location,’ said Miss Frost. ‘It took a great deal of effort to pick up the trail, but we’re closing in.’
‘Miss Frost is so clever,’ said Evie. ‘She –’
‘It is you who is clever,’ said Miss Frost. ‘Evie suggested we try the clothes shop again.’
‘We asked if Vex had said anything when he was there,’ said Evie. ‘The lady told us he had mentioned something about needing a pet to be like his teacher. That clue led us to the pet shop.’
Miss Frost allowed herself a wry smile. ‘He bought a cockatoo there, so then it was only a matter of following the trail of white feathers to a private garage. We knocked on the door. Nobody answered, but it’s clear he is hiding out inside. There were even hints of unicycle tracks on the driveway. We only need to return at the right time and we’ll find him.’
Mr Bambuckle was bouncing with excitement. ‘This is even more fun than I imagined it would be. Damon and Victoria, would you do the honours?’
‘I’d love to get married to Victoria!’ said Damon.
‘Not those honours,’ said Albert. ‘He means go to the garage and find Vex.’
‘We’d love to,’ said Victoria. ‘I’ve been itching to get involved.’
‘There’s just one problem,’ said Miss Frost. ‘The garage door is locked. ‘You’ll need to find a way to break in.’
Damon and Victoria exploded into room 12B moments before lunch. ‘We found him! We know exactly where he is!’
‘Was he in the garage?’ demanded Miss Frost, who was feeling disappointed and a little anxious that they hadn’t brought Vex back with them.
‘No, he had moved on,’ panted Damon. ‘But we know where he is. The trail of white feathers led back to an alleyway behind the main shops.’
‘There’s no time to lose,’ said Miss Frost. ‘We shall go together to find him, once and for all. To the bus!’
Slugger’s eyes lit up. ‘Need someone to drive?’
‘We certainly do, dear boy,’ said Mr Bambuckle.
Miss Frost shook her head. ‘I don’t even want to know …’
The two teachers and the class of students dashed out of the room. In their haste to get to the bus, they failed to notice Mr Sternblast spying on them from behind a tree outside the classroom. It could be debated, however, that Mr Bambuckle knew he was there. He was simply too busy leaping about with excitement to care.
‘There!’ cried Harold. ‘I can see him in the alleyway.’
Slugger hit the brakes and the students piled out of the bus.
‘Vex!’ They ran towards their classmate, arms outstretched, embracing him in a giant group hug.
When they eventually pulled away from him, they noticed something very unusual. Vex was dressed exactly like Mr Bambuckle. He wore a sparkly blue suit and a soft cotton scarf. A bird squawked on his shoulder. ‘Pancakes! Pancakes!’
Vex bent down and picked up a frypan. ‘Would anyone like some bacon?’
‘I’d love some,’ said a gravelly voice. A man dressed in dishevelled clothes was standing next to Vex. ‘Thanks, Mr Bloombickle.’
‘Who’s Mr Bloombickle?’ said Ren.
‘Me,’ said Vex. ‘At least, I was. It’s a long story. I was just about to come home to tell it.’
Vex paused. He noticed Miss Frost smiling. He had never seen her smile like that before. She looked beautiful in the afternoon light, and her hair glinted with hints of golden amber.
Miss Frost glanced at her watch. ‘We must get back to school. The bell will be ringing soon.’
‘Wait,’ said Vex. ‘There’s something I need to do first.’ He turned to the scruffy man next to him. ‘I want you to have this, Oli.’
Vex took the bird from his shoulder and gave it to the man. He also opened his wallet and emptied its contents into the man’s hands. ‘Thanks for talking to me today, and thank you for your advice about running away. I’ll never forget it.’
As the students got on the bus, Mr Bambuckle asked Vex to sit at the front. ‘I believe you have a story to tell us on the way back to school.’
It’s time I opened up and told you the truth about myself. I’m sick of hiding everything and keeping it all in.
I’ve been an idiot.
There.
I’ve said it.
Everyone thinks I have it easy. You know, with a dad who owns three car yards and everything. Well, things aren’t always as they seem. I know I’ve done some stupid stuff, but things are going to change.
I never meant to hurt Carrot with the whole haircut revenge plan at c
amp. And I’m sorry for bringing Slugger into it. He didn’t deserve to be involved.
You see, Dad’s always yelling at me about being the best. As my letter explained, his way of teaching me to succeed involves only caring about myself. But Mr Bambuckle showed me I can do better than that.
After Slugger returned the money, I knew it was time to make my move. It was time to be more like Mr Bambuckle. If I could be like him, my worries would disappear. He’s never stressed or bothered or anxious or mean. It’s the opposite of how I feel most of the time.
On the final morning of camp – before anyone else was awake – I packed up my bag and took off into the bush. My plan was to head back to Blue Valley and collect the rest of my money from the workshop.
It was a long and tiring walk, and I wasn’t sure which way to go. Though I could have sworn I heard Dodger whistling the way ahead. I followed what I thought were his chirps and with luck I stumbled upon the main road to town.
It was late morning by the time I reached the workshop. I slipped in through the back door while Dad and his workers were on their lunchbreak.
Inside, I stuffed my wallet with as much money as I could find. Then I noticed a bike catalogue sitting on the workbench. If I wanted to be like my teacher, I would need a unicycle. I found the information I needed, scrounged a few more supplies – matches, spare socks, a knife and fork – and headed straight to the bike shop.
‘How can I help you?’ said the lady behind the counter.
‘I need a unicycle,’ I said.
The shop assistant adjusted her glasses. ‘A unicycle, eh? We haven’t sold many of those lately. Are you sure you don’t want one of our more popular models?’ She pointed to a hot-pink BMX. It had a basket on the front and ribbons on the handlebars.
‘No, thanks,’ I said. ‘Just a unicycle.’
She disappeared into the storeroom and returned a few minutes later with the unicycle. It looked just like Mr Bambuckle’s.
