Ishmael and the Hoops of Steel

by Michael Gerard Bauer

  Overall it was a pretty good night and it even contained one thing that I’d definitely place in the awesome category. It happened towards the end of the Semi when I wandered outside to the foyer area. Don’t worry, I wasn’t ‘neglecting’ Raychell. She was doing juuuuust fine. She’d sort of drifted off and attached herself to another table with a bunch of her Claremont friends. And Mum would be happy. The last time I checked she was certainly ‘enjoying’ herself with Gary Horsham. Razz and Sally and everyone else were up dancing.

  I made my way over to one of the big foyer windows. Outside it was pelting down with rain. On the other side of the main yard I could just make out the gymnasium. At almost exactly the same time last year, that’s where I was – in the school gym at the Dugongs’ reunion concert.

  A bit had changed since then. The band had played a few more gigs together and now there were definite plans to remaster and re-release their old album, maybe with some new songs on it.

  Things had changed for me too. But none of it was an improvement. A year ago, instead of staring out a window by myself while all my friends were having a great time without me, I was with Kelly Faulkner. And she was kissing me and everything was perfect. After that I couldn’t wait for this year to start so Kelly and I could be together and go the movies and parties and school dances.

  But none of that happened.

  Now the year was over and what did I have to look forward to in Year Twelve? Let’s see …

  • More exams and assignments.

  • More pressure.

  • No clue about a future job or career.

  • No Kelly.

  • No anybody.

  • No nothing.

  How’s that for your ‘slings and arrows of outrageous fortune’?

  It was around about this time while I was immersing myself fully in Advanced Self-pity Wallowing 401 that I was distracted by a call from behind.

  ‘Ishmael! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, man. Brother Jerome wants us all inside and sitting down, plus I’ve got some gooder-than-good news for you, dude. You’re gonna love it.’

  ‘Good news? I’ll believe that when I hear it.’

  ‘Sal sent a text to Kelly, you know, to tell her how the Semi was going and everything.’

  ‘Super.’ (No doubt about it. I was totally aceing Advanced Self-pity Wallowing 401.)

  ‘But that’s not the good part, dude. The good part is Sal just got a reply and guess what?’

  ‘Surprise me.’

  He did. He came out with the night’s ‘one awesome thing’. It made my year.

  ‘Kelly’s coming home, dude. She’s coming back with her mum and little brother. She’s gonna be boarding at Lourdes next year. The Kelster is back in the building, man!’

  A déjà vu thing was happening in my chest. My heart was shooting up like it had launched itself off a springboard. It was in the process of nailing a perfect reverse triple somersault in the full pike position – with a twist!

  ‘Well, what do you reckon, dude? You and Kelly back together. Was I right or was I right? That seems like pretty good news to me!’

  ‘Seems?’ I said, grabbing Razz by the front of his shirt. ‘Seems! I KNOW NOT “SEEMS!” ‘

  And this is how my Year Eleven at St Daniel’s ended: with Razz and I racing each other back inside the Old Hall just in time to hear Brother Jerome announce the name of next year’s College Captain to a cheer that almost lifted the roof clean off.

  James Scobie tended to have that effect on people.

  Year Twelve?

  BRING IT ON!

  Year Twelve

  Semester One

  Doubt thou the stars are fire;

  Doubt that the sun doth move;

  Doubt truth to be a liar;

  But never doubt I love.

  William Shakespeare, Hamlet, act 2 scene 2, lines 116–119

  1.

  THE LAST OF THE LASTS

  Across from me, a head bobbed rhythmically and a blur of fingers drummed out a furious beat on the tabletop. Then everything ceased and a pair of eyes blinked open like flashlights.

  ‘Hey, do you guys realise that this is the last “first day back” we’ll ever have?’

  It was morning tea. We were sitting around one of the tables in the Senior courtyard. Scobie, Bill, Ignatius and I took time out from demolishing our lunches to contemplate Razz’s observation.

  ‘This is it, man,’ Razz said, taking in all the buildings and the riot of students in the playground. ‘The last time. We’ll never be on holidays ever again, and think like, “Aw, man, school tomorrow! What a total bummer!”‘

  ‘I’ve never thought that.’

  Razz threw a sympathetic look at the lanky figure chewing on a muesli bar and poring over a Science World magazine.

  ‘Sorry, my bad, Prindabel. I was actually just talking about us humanoids. Should have made myself clear.’

  ‘But what you said about the last first day back might not be true anyway. What if you had to repeat Year Twelve?’

  ‘Me? Why should I have to repeat?’

  ‘I wasn’t referring to you specifically, Orazio … although …’

  Razz glared. Ignatius backed off.

  ‘I’m just saying that if anyone had to repeat the year, then for that person it wouldn’t be his last first day back, would it? He’d only think it was, but in reality it would be just the first of his last first days back, because he’d have one last, last first day back to go the next year.’

  Razz looked around at the rest of us. Then he jerked a thumb towards Ignatius.

  ‘You see. Here’s my problem with trying to recreate human life in the laboratory. What do we do with the experiments when they fail?’

  Unperturbed, Ignatius returned to his magazine.

  ‘Orazio does have a point though.’

  This came from Scobie, of all people.

  ‘My genius is recognised at last! Thank you, Mein Capitan and Ruler Over All the Lands!’

  Ever since the Year Eleven Semi-formal, when Brother Jerome announced that Scobie was this year’s College Captain, Razz had showered him with countless titles. ‘He Whose Feet I Am Not Worthy to Lick Clean’ was one of my personal favourites.

  ‘Tell us more, Your Highest of All Highnesses, so that these ignorant donkeys may see the light.’

  ‘Well,’ Scobie said with a trademark twist of his mouth, ‘this will be an entire year of lasts for us, won’t it? Last swimming carnival, last athletics carnival and last assembly and then it will come right down to the last Homeroom, last lesson in each of our subjects, last assignment, last exam and finally the last day.’

  ‘Last lesson, last exam, last assignment. Scobes, you sure know how to cheer me up!’

  The smiles around the table said that he wasn’t alone there. Razz clicked his fingers at us.

  ‘And I got another one. Last time we’ll have to be here when Charlton House finishes last in the College Cup. The last of the lasts!’

  None of us from Charlton House would miss the annual humiliation that went with the announcement of the final College Cup point totals.

  ‘This year’s just looking better and better,’ Razz said.

  There was quite a bit of head nodding and smiling then, but Bill wasn’t looking quite as convinced as the rest of us.

  ‘Yeah, but there’ll be other stuff as well, won’t there?’ he said. ‘Like our last debate together.’

  The smiles subsided a little. Then Ignatius had a thought to share.

  ‘Last time we’ll have to wait around for Orazio to turn up to a debating meeting,’ he said with a sly smirk.

  ‘Yeah,’ Razz shot back, waving his index finger about, ‘and the last time I’ll have to put up with the Prindabel Power Pointer wagging in my face whenever I open my mouth.’

  ‘Last time Scobie will have to bang on the table and call out, “Debating meeting? Remember?”‘ I said.

  It went a bit quiet then. Maybe like me, the others were thin
king about some of the more memorable moments from our meetings over the past three years. We returned to the present when Scobie threw in another debating ‘last’.

  ‘Last chance to win the debating championship.’

  Razz slapped the table. ‘Man, we should’ve at least got to the finals last year,’ he said. ‘I’m telling you, if that adjudicator we had against Claremont had any less brains he would have been a potato.’

  ‘Can’t do anything about that now,’ Scobie said. ‘But we can do something about this year. We made the finals back in Year Nine, so there’s no reason we couldn’t do it again and then maybe go all the way. Of course, we’d need to be really serious about it.’

  ‘Ah what exactly do you mean by serious, O Supreme Being and Jumbo Storehouse of All Wisdom?’

  ‘Well, Orazio, for a start it would be good if we could all get to the meetings on time. And it would also be very helpful if once we got there we were organised and focused and we didn’t waste time discussing totally irrelevant personal issues, like problems we might have with certain teachers and assignments or even the love life of another member of the debating team – or lack thereof.’

  Razz pointed at Bill, Ignatius and me in turn. ‘Are you guys listening to what our Glorious All-knowing Leader is saying here? If we wanna win the big one, you guys have gotta cut all that stuff out, OK?’

  Then Razz turned back to Scobie.

  ‘Don’t worry, O Captain, My Captain, I’ll keep them in line. And look, don’t be too hard on them. Hey, I’ve probably been guilty of some of those things myself.’

  ‘Surely not,’ Scobie said. Then he thrust his hand forward, palm down, with his chubby fingers spread out. His eyes swept around the table. ‘What do you say? Senior Debating Champions?’

  We all pancaked our hands on top of his.

  ‘Senior Debating Champions,’ we replied.

  We were just disentangling ourselves when Miss Tarango weaved her way through the yard, setting a course for the staffroom. She was carrying an armful of folders. We all watched as she disappeared inside. I think the same thought was going through each of our heads, but it was Bill who turned it into words.

  ‘Last year with Miss Tarango.’

  That put a bit of a dampener on how everything was shaping up.

  ‘We’ll have to get her something really nice when we leave.’

  ‘Rigid idea, Billy Boy!’ Razz said with a soft punch to Bill’s arm. ‘And not the usual stuff like flowers or chocolates. Gotta be something special.’

  We all agreed with that. But what?

  ‘Hey, I know what we can do,’ Razz said. ‘It’s simple, man. We’re winning the Debating Trophy, right? Well, why don’t we just win the College Cup for Miss Tarango while we’re at it?’

  We joined with Razz in laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of his suggestion.

  All of us, that is, except James Scobie.

  ‘Maybe we should look into it.’

  We all waited for the punch line. It never came.

  ‘Forgive me, My Lord of Humungous Heaps of Grey Matter, but are you nuts?’

  ‘It would be the perfect present for her,’ Scobie stated calmly. ‘She’s always been Charlton House’s number one supporter even before she was made Patron. She supports everything, she gets dressed up in the house colours, she always cheers the loudest even when we lose – which is normally the case – and she’s by far the hardest working of all the house Patrons. It’s about time she got some reward. And I can’t think of a better reward for all that effort than winning her the College Cup. I’m just suggesting we should consider it, that’s all.’

  Razz pruned his face up in disbelief.

  ‘Consider it? Look, Your Know-It-All-Ness, I think there are some pretty basic things you’re missing. Like, for a start, this, Scobes,’ Razz said, thumping on the table and stamping on the ground, ‘is reality. It’s where the rest of us here are living. Why don’t you forget about Charlton ever winning the College Cup and come join us?’

  ‘I’m happy to deal with reality, Orazio. That’s why I think before we dismiss the idea we should do some hard research into our previous performances, assess our strengths and weaknesses, study the points table and see what the reality of our situation is.’

  At the mention of the words ‘research’ and ‘points table’ Prindabel lifted his nose slightly off his Science World magazine and glanced up.

  ‘Well, if you want research,’ Razz said, ‘just take a look at how we went last year in the Big Three. Athletics Carnival – last place. Swimming Carnival – last place. Cross-country – hey, what do you know? Last place. You won’t go changing that all around in just one year. It’s impossible.’

  ‘Seems impossible,’ Scobie said and held up his hand just in time to stop Razz from shouting, I know not ‘seems’! ‘But not all the points that contribute to the College Cup come from just those three events. What we really need is for someone to analyse all the available statistics on last year’s competition and then prepare a detailed breakdown – perhaps a spreadsheet, even – of the points-scoring system and report back to us.’

  Prindabel’s head had crept a little higher and his eyes had opened a little wider with each of the words Scobie had stressed.

  ‘What we need,’ Scobie said finally, tapping the point of his finger on the table, ‘is for someone to do the maths.’

  The Prindabel Power Pointer shot up into the air.

  ‘I could do that.’

  ‘Really, Ignatius? Would you?’ Scobie said, actually managing to look genuinely surprised. ‘That would be excellent. At least then we would have a better picture of where we stand.’

  ‘Well, yeah, sure, Prindabuddy, why not? Go ahead. Knock yourself out. Write a report on Charlton’s chances of winning the College Cup. And to save time, do your conclusion first. Just type in “Zero”.’

  That’s where the discussion ended. Even though I couldn’t think of a better thankyou present for Miss Tarango than winning her the College Cup, I had to agree with Razz. It was never going to happen.

  The remainder of morning tea was spent throwing up other ‘lasts’ for the year. We came up with plenty too. Some good, some not so good. The one that got the biggest laugh was ‘last detention for Razz’.

  But there was one ‘last’ that I kept to myself. One that I couldn’t stop thinking about.

  The last day without Kelly Faulkner back in my life.

  2.

  YOU HAP ME AT ‘DATA’

  I’d spent most of the holidays thinking about meeting Kelly Faulkner again; wondering where and when it would all happen and what it would be like. I also spent a bit of time trying to hose down all my spot-fire doubts, which threatened to take hold and rage out of control.

  Things like, that maybe Kelly had changed, or met someone else. I mean, all we really had was that night at the Dugongs’ concert and one short, amazing, mind-blowing kiss. If she really did like me, then why did she stop sending emails? When we finally met again she’d probably just stare at me with those beautiful ice-blue eyes and say, ‘Do I know you from somewhere?’

  All right, I was just being stupid with that last bit. Kelly would remember me. After all, how many other Ishmaels did she know? I might be forgettable, but unfortunately my name certainly wasn’t. I decided to remain positive and focus on what I knew rather than what I didn’t know. And I knew from Sally Nofke via Razz that Kelly and her mother and brother Marty were back, I knew that she’d been really busy getting set up in the boarding house at Lourdes College and I knew that Razz and Sally were working on getting Kelly and me together. I was daydreaming about that very get-together one lunchtime when Ignatius Prindabel presented his report on the College Cup. When he did, the course of the entire school year changed.

  With Mr Guthrie’s permission we were all gathered in Homeroom to hear the official findings. Some were gathered more enthusiastically than others.

  ‘Welcome to Fantasy Island, kiddies, where Uncle Igg
y Wiggy will now waste our time.’

  Ignatius ignored Razz and pulled some sheets from a folder. We each received two pages. They were filled with charts, diagrams, lists, tables, figures, percentages and bullet points.

  ‘You really do have a very bad case of chronic nerdism, don’t you, P-buddy?’

  ‘Thank you, Orazio,’ Scobie said. ‘Now I’ve already studied the report in detail, so Ignatius, why don’t you just run through the highlights for everyone else?’

  ‘Well, Pie Graph 1.0 shows the breakdown of all the various sources of points for last year’s College Cup, obviously expressed in percentages.’

  ‘Obviously,’ Razz repeated.

  ‘As you can see, the Big Three – the Swimming Carnival, the Athletics Carnival and the Cross-country – accounted for approximately 56 per cent of the total points allotted. The remaining points came from a range of other minor events, which I have labelled Miscellaneous and spelt out in more detail in Pie Graph 1.1 as well as Table (A). These include the various inter-house competitions such as the indoor soccer competition and the talent quest as well as points for participation in certain school activities.

  ‘Now I’ve also completed a breakdown and analysis on each of the Big Three events to see where the individual houses gained their points, with a particular focus, via James’ instructions, on what proportion came from performance compared to participation. You can see the results of that in Charts 1, 2 and 3 and Tables (B) and (C). In addition, Table (D) shows the points difference between the losing houses and the eventual winning house expressed both in raw numbers and as a percentage of the total winning score. On the second page …’

  ‘Prindabel, stop!’ Razz said, waving the handouts at him. ‘I’m sure this is brilliant, man, and you’ll probably win the Nobel Geek Prize, but before my head explodes, just tell us what it all means.’