by Pam Harvey
He looked at her blankly.
‘Come now, David. Surely you know what an adjective is.’ Hannah turned to look at Dave. He was slowly turning red, uneasily fingering his white swipe card as if somehow, magically, the very act of rubbing it might mysteriously produce the answer. ‘No? Perhaps someone else in the room can jog that memory for you. Anyone?’
A few people, including Hannah, raised their hands.
‘Hannah? An adjective?’
‘A word that describes something,’ she responded flatly.
‘Very good, Hannah.’
Mrs Stevens droned on, and the class grew restless. Dave released his swipe card from the coloured cord with the little crocodile clip and carefully passed it over to Ben Richards. Ben slid it across to Lana McKinstry, who held it in her hands and stared at it in wonder. Most kids were keeping one eye on the swipe card as it slowly made its way round the room.
Dave had quickly forgotten his earlier embarrassment and was now beaming with excitement again, delighted at his rapid elevation in popularity. The seat next to Dave Kelly in class would be prime real estate, a dejected Hannah thought to herself.
‘Unreal!’ Sammy Houlihan said, loud enough for the whole class to hear. Mrs Stevens looked up from her table at the front of the room.
‘Samuel Houlihan, bring that to me!’ she snapped, rising out of her chair.
‘It’s not mine, Mrs Stevens. It’s Dave’s.’
‘I know perfectly well whose it is. Now bring it to me. David, you can come and collect your card tomorrow.’
‘But I’ve got the photo at 3.15, and I’ll need my swipe card for that,’ Dave said, looking agitated.
‘I’m sure the photographer will manage a photo of you without the swipe card,’ Mrs Stevens said coolly.
‘But that’s the whole point of the photo,’ Dave wailed.
‘David Kelly. You may come and collect your card tomorrow morning, not a moment before. Do I make myself clear?’
‘But Mrs Stevens. I need—’
‘Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes, Mrs Stevens,’ Dave said quietly.
Sam walked out to hand it over, looking guilty as he slunk back into his seat. ‘Perhaps now the class will be able to concentrate on the adjectives exercise I’ve given you. Silence all of you until lunch.’
Hannah watched Mrs Stevens slip the swipe card into her table drawer, with not even a cursory look at it before she slammed it shut. Hannah looked down then up again quickly, waiting for Mrs Stevens to lock the drawer, but she went straight back to correcting their stories from last week. Perhaps she would be taking the swipe card with her at the end of the lesson, Hannah thought. Her eyes glazed over as she stared at the teacher’s table.
I want that card. Hannah had been vaguely aware of the thought tossing around in her head over the last ten minutes as the swipe card slowly made its way round the room. But suddenly, the idea was clear to her. It was her right to at least borrow the card, if only for a few days. She’d put it to far better use. Dave didn’t seem like someone who’d be interested in a free pass to Explore! He had all those chickens to look after.
She stared at Mrs Stevens’ table as a plan slowly formed in her mind. It was going to take skill, daring and a little bit of luck—okay, maybe a lot of luck. But it was worth a try.
Hannah put her head down to finish off the work. It was boring and repetitive and required little concentration. She worked steadily, writing each sentence neatly and underlining all the adjectives in red. Keeping an eye on the clock, Hannah worked through the exercise, finishing seven minutes early. If she could distract Mrs Stevens somehow, then she might forget to lock the drawer. It was all about timing.
Exactly eight minutes later, just as Mrs Stevens started dismissing the class, Hannah made a beeline for her table, her work book open.
‘Mrs Stevens, I was thinking about the word global,’ Hannah began, as Mrs Stevens packed her books. ‘As in global warming. Do you think global would be categorised as an adjective?’
Mrs Stevens peered over her glasses at Hannah.
‘It certainly is an adjective,’ she said, following Hannah, who was making her way towards the door. ‘It’s describing the kind of warming it is.’
But Hannah had stopped listening. Mrs Stevens closed then locked the classroom door. Hannah nodded politely once or twice, thanked Mrs Stevens, then took off the opposite way down the corridor. When she got to the end she stopped and waited.
A few minutes later, Mr Benson walked past, but she ignored him. There was no way he’d let her back in to get her jumper from the classroom. Hannah sat on the steps, twisting her hands together, hoping that some nice teacher would appear. Another three minutes and her prayers were answered. Miss Cole, the new Phys Ed teacher, was heading across the oval towards her. Brilliant! She was carrying a softball bag and moving quickly—she was taking a team of students to a school softball competition today.
Hannah jumped up.
‘Miss Cole, I’m freezing,’ she said, shivering. ‘Can you just quickly let me into the classroom so I can grab my jumper?’
Miss Cole looked at Hannah and smiled. Hannah smiled back.
‘Just pull it shut,’ Miss Cole said, relocking the door and leaving Hannah alone in the room. Hannah ran over to her locker and pulled out her jumper. Glancing quickly at the door, she dashed back to the front of the room. Taking a deep breath, she pulled open the drawer, snatched the swipe card, and thrust it deep into her dress pocket.
Gently she closed the door, then as calmly as possible walked away.
Hannah was tempted a couple of times during the rest of the day to tell Angus and E.D. what she now had in her pocket, but decided against it. It wouldn’t be fair to involve them. And besides, she wanted to have her own look at Explore! There was something she was keen to find out, and maybe, just maybe, her luck might continue.
Hannah set off for Explore! after dinner. The sun had set, but there was still plenty of light as she rode up to the door marked KHS. Kids’ Head Start. Whatever that meant, Hannah thought. Head start to what? And who gets left behind? What happens to them?
Taking a nervous glance behind her, she set her bike down further away from the building and approached the door. To the left of the door handle was a silver console. Above the handle was a small display screen with a keypad next to it. Three red lights glowed beneath the keypad. Hannah swiped the card through the slot and the first red light changed to green. Suddenly the screen lit up.
Name? Hannah typed in David Kelly. The second red light turned green. Hannah held her breath.
Password? Hannah froze, then a wave of disappointment flooded over her. How stupid of her! As if she was going to be able to walk into Explore! just because she had his stupid swipe card. And now she’d stolen it for nothing. Unless…
She punched the first word that came into her head. It was the only possibility with David Kelly. Chickens.
Hannah stared at the third light, willing it to turn green. There was a clicking sound then it happened. The third red light flashed once, then changed to green. There was a hiss and the door clicked open.
For a moment Hannah stood still, not quite believing what she’d done. She thrust a foot inside, just as the door started to close again.
The first thing she noticed after the door had closed behind her were tiny squeaking sounds. A dull blue light cast an eerie, metallic haze over the place, but Hannah could make out a row of cages, each filled with white mice.
Dinner for the snakes in the green tube, she thought, moving quickly to an open door on the other side. She stepped into the next room—an office. Her attention was immediately drawn to a large filing cabinet directly opposite her.
Hannah listened for any sounds. All she could hear were the mice, scrabbling and nibbling in their cages next door. She walked to the filing cabinet and eased the top drawer open. Neatly labelled files, each with their own colour tag, were lined up inside. A file with a green tag caug
ht her attention.
‘Whatever, Wherever,’ the label read.
Hannah reached in and pulled the file out. Again she paused, straining her ears for the slightest sound. Nothing. She opened the file. In spite of the situation, she smiled. Here was what she was looking for. Each page was the results from different schools in the area. Quickly she rifled through the file, finally coming to Teasdale Secondary. Hannah swallowed as she glanced at the names.
There was her name, and Dave Kelly’s too, along with the other kids who had turned up for the competition. Next to them was a score. Hannah stared at the first few lines.
Hannah looked at the number next to Dave’s name then looked again. It appeared different. She moved closer to the light coming through a tinted window and stared closely at the number. It was different typing—she was sure of it. But why?
Then she noticed another file, deeper inside the drawer. It had Andrea’s name printed neatly on the label. Hannah quickly pulled it out. It was empty except for a remote drive data stick neatly attached to the side of the folder in a small plastic case. Frowning, she took out the data drive, then made a decision.
Flicking the computer on, Hannah pushed the data stick into a slot in the tower beneath the desk and waited for the computer to load. Almost straight away a message appeared on the screen: You are trying to access a secret file. Please enter the access code. An unsuccessful attempt will destroy the data on this disk.
Without thinking, Hannah pressed the off button of the computer and hastily removed the drive. What had she done?
THUMP!
Hannah froze. Her heart suddenly pounding, she quickly put the data stick back, closed the file and shoved it into the cabinet. The blue light was slowly disappearing. The hairs on her arms bristled. What had made that thumping noise? It had sounded close. Maybe the mice in the room next door? Why was the light suddenly fading? Was someone in the mouse room flicking switches?
Hannah didn’t wait to find out. She charged back to the room with the mice and raced to the door. But the handle had jammed.
‘Come on,’ she muttered, shaking it.
THUMP!
Panicking, Hannah raced back into the room she’d come from. She ran through the open door next to the filing cabinet and along a corridor, away from the mouse room. There were closed doors on either side. It was getting darker and darker by the second.
She tried a door on her left. Locked. She ran on, the corridor opening up into a large open area full of empty bag spaces and lockers. Was she near the entrance? Taking out Dave’s card, she ran to the nearest door, but there was nowhere to swipe it. She ran across the opening and down another long corridor. Wasn’t this the way to the Rite Bite Café?
A steady humming had started. Maybe the loud noise was the air conditioning or something turning on? Hannah looked at her watch. Just after eight o’clock. Surely that was it? Some sort of automatic device timed to switch on the machines at 8 p.m.? Hannah kept going. She could feel the blood thumping in her head as she reached the end of yet another long corridor.
The café. She entered the room, desperately hoping there’d be an exit. There wasn’t. Just two doors behind the counter, both labelled.
STRICTLY NO ADMITTANCE. AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY
She opened the door to the left and stopped. She’d been expecting the room she’d seen from the pink tube with the huge vats of ice cream.
But it wasn’t that at all. In the fading light she could just make out a work bench covered with flasks, beakers and other equipment. She stepped closer. On the bench was a range of jars with dull-coloured powders in them. Each one was neatly labelled. Two enormous gas bottles, each painted red, stood like sentries on either side of the bench. Under the bench, by itself on a shelf, was a jar. Green and orange balls the size of small grapes half-filled it. Hannah turned around. Near the door was a small plastic-covered tent. When she looked closer, she could see it was like a mini hothouse filled with pot plants.
There was only one way out—back the way she’d come. Hannah sped down the corridors, running as fast as she’d ever run before. Through the office and into the mouse room. Hannah paused, her chest heaving. There was something different about the place. She listened—trying to ignore her pounding chest. The mice. She peered into one of the cages. They were gone. All of them. Someone had been here—maybe was still here. She glanced around the room, left then right. It was empty.
She turned back to the cages. None of them had floors. Someone, or some automated system, had slid the floors of the cages away. Hannah peered into them. The mice would have disappeared into the black void she was looking at. But disappeared to where? The tunnels, she thought, suddenly remembering the mice they’d encountered in the green tube.
Without another thought, she raced to the door and opened it. She’d never been more relieved to see her bike.
All I have to do now is take this swipe card back, she thought to herself, her breathing slowly returning to normal. But that was going to have to wait till morning.
Hannah touched the card in her pocket and headed home.
Chapter 9
Teasdale Secondary School: Wednesday morning
Hannah rode her bike to school alone the next day. She’d slept with the swipe card under her pillow and dreamed all night that she was sliding down a tunnel with an avalanche of green ice cream cascading down after her. When she got to school, only a scattering of people were there. Good, she thought. I’ll be able to get into the classroom and put the card back.
But it wasn’t as easy as that. She was so early that the room hadn’t been unlocked yet. Hannah stood staring in through the glass at the empty room and rattled the door handle angrily. In ten minutes, most of the other kids would be arriving and the last thing she wanted was to get caught with the swipe card in her bag. She turned the handle hard and pushed against the door.
‘I think it’s locked, Hannah.’
Mrs Kent, the librarian, was walking along the corridor with a box of books. Hannah smiled at her. Mrs Kent was the sort of teacher who never had to yell and always seemed pleased to see a student.
‘Hi, Mrs Kent. I was just trying to get in to get my Maths book. I think I left it in my locker yesterday.’ Hannah surprised herself at how easily she was lying. ‘I really need to get it before class so I can get my homework done.’
Mrs Kent stopped beside Hannah and looked up and down the corridor. No other teacher was in sight. ‘I’ve got keys somewhere,’ she said, trying to balance the box with one hand and feel in her jeans pocket with the other.
‘Can I hold those for you?’ Hannah reached for the box and Mrs Kent gave it to her.
‘Got them.’ The librarian unlocked the door and smiled at Hannah. ‘I’ll wait here while you get it. Then I can lock up.’
Hannah looked at Mrs Kent over the box of books. How am I going to put the card back if she’s watching? she thought. She tried to think of some emergency that a librarian would have to go to straight away (an invasion of bookworms?) but couldn’t think of anything that would send Mrs Kent packing. ‘If you just flick the lock at the back, the door pulls closed already locked. I can do that if you want and then you don’t have to stay.’
Mrs Kent took the box back. ‘Oh no, I’ll wait. I don’t mind. I might do a quick sort of these books I’ve got. I think some of them belong in here.’ She walked into the room and put the box on the teacher’s table.
Great, thought Hannah. I can’t put the card back now. She moved into the room and pretended to look in her locker for the missing Maths book.
Mrs Kent was piling the books up on the table, looking at the spine of each one before stacking it on the others. Hannah slammed the door of her locker, sighing loudly.
‘Can’t find it?’ Mrs Kent paused and looked up at Hannah.
‘Maybe Mrs Stevens put it on her table.’ Hannah walked to the front of the room.
‘I didn’t see anything here.’ Mrs Kent frowned and glanced around the nea
t table top. Her books were the only items on it.
‘She might have put it in her drawer.’ Hannah moved closer to the table.
‘Let’s have a look.’ Mrs Kent pulled the drawer open. At the same time, Hannah turned slightly, her heavy school bag knocking into the pile of books and sending them sliding onto the floor.
‘Oh! I’m so sorry!’ Hannah put on a horrified expression and leapt around the table to pick the books up. She wedged herself between the drawer and Mrs Kent.
‘It’s okay, really. It was such a wobbly pile.’ Mrs Kent bent down and started gathering books in her arms. By the time all the books had been picked up, the drawer was safely closed, its treasure returned and Hannah had lifted the box off the table.
‘Did you find your book?’ asked Mrs Kent, locking the door as they left the room.
‘No,’ said Hannah. ‘But that’s alright. Someone else probably got it for me.’
‘I hope so,’ said Mrs Kent. ‘I hope it hasn’t been stolen.’
‘Someone might have borrowed it,’ said Hannah with a serious look on her face. ‘Borrowing’s alright.’
‘Only if it gets returned.’ Mrs Kent wriggled her fingers goodbye and made her way up the corridor again.
Hannah smiled. Thanks to you, Mrs Kent, it is returned.
The rest of the day at school seemed long. Hannah couldn’t concentrate and stared out of the window a lot. She’d been so keen to get the swipe card back into the drawer that she hadn’t thought a lot about what she’d actually seen at Explore! Now it was going around and around in her head. What was going on? It looked like Dave Kelly’s score had been changed. Who had changed it? And why? Why would anyone want Dave Kelly to represent the school in a competition like that? Maybe it was his parents or his brothers who’d changed the score?
Hannah shook her head. There would be no way his hard-working parents and chook-loving brothers would bother setting Dave up in a competition like that. She glanced over at Dave, sitting up the back still looking pleased with himself. Or would they? The Whatever, Wherever prize money would help their farm.
