‘Nothing,’ said Ms Brown. ‘It was excellent!’
‘So why did I only get 88 per cent?’ With a look of fury, Miranda leapt to her feet.
‘I need at least 90. Tell me what was wrong with it!’ she demanded.
Ms Brown swallowed.
‘Miranda, sit down,’ Boris said calmly.
She didn’t move. ‘She thinks she’s smart, but what does she know?’ she growled.
Anastasia joined in. ‘Sit down, Miranda!’
‘But —’
‘Ms Brown’s giving out the marks as she sees fit,’ Boris said firmly. ‘We are here to learn; not to question results.’
‘Here to learn,’ Mike added. But Miranda didn’t move. Clenching her teeth, she stared straight ahead.
‘Ms Brown, I think Miranda might need to see the principal,’ Boris suggested.
‘Mmm, right — yes, okay,’ Ms Brown said. ‘Whatever you think.’
‘I’ll take her.’ Anastasia stood up, grabbed Miranda’s arm and led her away.
Miranda twitched as she walked. ‘It’s not good enough,’ she muttered. ‘It’s not good enough.’
Nathaniel and Prune looked at each other. Perhaps Jonty was right. Something had to be done. The students were moving beyond weird to downright scary.
CHAPTER 12
BOTTOM THREE
With his arms folded, Nathaniel sat in his bedroom, looking at the computer. It was Sunday night. He used to spend Sunday nights studying, looking over his homework and enjoying all the maths equations he had mastered. He loved it when they suddenly made sense to him, but it was weeks since any equations had made sense.
He didn’t have homework anymore. The teachers never set any. Somehow everyone simply found out what was expected. When it came to learning, classes were just the tip of the iceberg. For the first time he could remember, Nathaniel had nothing to do.
He sighed, looked around his bedroom and started tapping his hands on the desk. He was feeling … he wasn’t quite sure what it was. He wasn’t tired. He wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t angry or annoyed. What was it?
He leant back in the chair until he was balanced on the two back legs. He reached out and touched the edge of the desk with one hand to steady himself, then he let go. He tried to maintain his balance with his arms, but he wobbled, leant too far, then tipped right over and crashed onto the floor.
Downstairs, his mother heard the crash and ran up to his room.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ she asked, when she saw him sprawled on the floor, looking at the ceiling. It was most inelegant.
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘I’m — bored!’
That was the feeling. For the first time in his life, Nathaniel was bored.
‘Oh dear,’ gasped Mrs Bennett and walked out of the room. ‘It’s started.’
She would have to speak to his father. ‘Bored schoolboy today,’ he always said, ‘graffiti artist tomorrow.’
Nathaniel stayed on the floor, thinking he had never really looked at his bedroom ceiling properly before. Finally he got to his feet, picked his chair up and sat down again.
He browsed through a few of his favourite sites, but without anything to research, it was boring. He decided to check his MySpace page and almost fell off his chair again, when he saw that he had a message. Someone had invited him to join the Mannington Liberation Front. He visited the group’s page.
What’s happening at Mannington High?
Everyone working, no one playing, no one
mucking up.
IT’S NOT NORMAL.
IT’S NOT RIGHT.
Where have all the real kids gone?
If you’re worried about what’s happening at
Mannington High, meet after school at the café
in Misery Mall. Don’t bring any student zombies
— anyone who knows the chemical formula for
hidracloric acid will be rejected.
This had to be Jonty’s work — only he would misspell hydrochloric. At first Nathaniel was annoyed that Jonty was being friendly because all his other friends had dropped him. Then he felt a glimmer of satisfaction that Jonty had been reduced to organising a meeting for real in the Misery Mall café, instead of joke meetings.
His satisfaction ended when the image of Miranda’s face from English class flashed through his mind. She seemed so crazy it sent a shiver down his spine. They had to do something.
Nathaniel wanted to learn again. He wanted to be top of the class. As much as he resented Jonty for all the old tricks he had pulled, this Mannington Liberation Front was his best bet for finding out what was going on. He also knew exactly what was going to happen in Maths on Monday morning. His worst nightmare was about to come true.
By the time he’d had breakfast, got to school and arrived at the classroom door, he knew for certain it wasn’t a horrible dream. Monday morning was really happening. He paused outside the room for a moment, leant against the wall, took a depth breath and stepped inside.
‘What?’ he said out loud. The desk allocation had already taken place and Mr Croxall wasn’t even there.
There was a perfectly neat, but slightly smaller, semicircle of desks pushed up closer to the teacher’s desk. Each one was positioned precisely, without any chalk rings around the legs. On each desk was exactly the same pile of books. Behind each desk sat a student. All the boys had their hair neatly combed and gelled. The girls all had their hair pulled back in a ponytail. Their ties looked like they had been made in the same factory with exactly the same size knot. They all sat with their hands together, resting on the desk. At exactly the same time, each head turned to look at Nathaniel as he entered, and then turned to the back of the classroom.
Nathaniel looked too. This wasn’t the nightmare he expected. He had expected that when Mr Croxall did the desk allocation, he would have the last desk. This was even worse. Right at the back, three desks were pushed together with a large chalk circle drawn on the ground around them. It was the Dumb Circle and Nathaniel knew exactly who it was for. His face went bright red. He could feel the roots of his hair clench. All the other students were staring at him with the tiniest smile on their thin lips.
He looked down, walked to the back of the room and took his seat in the Dumb Circle. He placed his notebook on the desk. He would probably not need it in class, but he’d got it out anyway. He had always been proud of its neat appearance. There were no markings, no scribbles or worn edges. He got his pen out and began to write carefully on the cover in large letters.
He didn’t look up until a hand appeared in front of his eyes. Prune was offering him a crystal. Her face was bright red and her hands were shaking. The silence in the room and the sight of Nathaniel sitting there alone at the back had stung her. He took the crystal and pressed it into his hand as she sat down. He had to admit that, as he held it, he felt better.
The next moment, in swept Mr Croxall. He paused when he saw the arrangement. A smile crept across his lips as he walked around the perfectly neat semicircle of desks. He tried to find a mistake, but it was faultless.
‘Well, well,’ he said, ‘some initiative. Excellent.’
Nathaniel wondered where Jonty was. Surely he was going to turn up. He wanted Jonty to be there. He glanced over at Prune and could tell she was thinking the same thing.
They heard the sound of footsteps running in the corridor and suddenly Jonty belted through the doorway, panting. He almost fell over as he saw the new arrangement.
‘Townsend,’ said Mr Croxall, ‘I think even you can work out which desk is yours. Hurry up.’
As Jonty sat down in the Dumb Circle, Prune reached out and pushed a crystal into his hand. He looked at her, smiled and closed his fingers over it.
Nathaniel waited for Jonty to look across at him, too. Jonty seemed afraid of what he might do to him. Nathaniel hadn’t seen him look like that before. He was so big and strong, what could he be afraid of?
Slowly Nathaniel turned his notebook round so
Jonty could see the cover. It had the words ‘Mannington Liberation Front’ written on it in big letters. Jonty’s sweaty face burst into a smile. That was all he needed to know.
Nathaniel nodded, feeling better after the humiliation of the Dumb Circle. He realised that if anyone could sort out what was going on at their school, it was Jonty.
‘Do I need to call the roll?’ Mr Croxall asked.
‘It’s done, sir,’ Miranda announced. After her Friday flip-out, she was quite calm again.
‘It seems as if I’m almost out of a job,’ said Mr Croxall. He did not see the smile that flicked across Boris’s face.
CHAPTER 13
THE MANNINGTON LIBERATION FRONT
After school, Jonty, Nathaniel and Prune made their way to Misery Mall. They sat in a booth at the back of the café, hiding behind the big plastic menus and wondering whether anyone else would turn up. Prune pushed her head so far into the menu that her nose pressed up against the price of the toasted chicken sandwich.
By 4.15 no other kids had arrived. Normally the mall would be full of students, laughing at the clothes in Sue Sue C Lady Fashion and running around the supermarket. Not anymore. They were all too busy studying.
‘Should I have a look round?’ Jonty whispered from behind his menu.
‘Yes,’ said Nathaniel. ‘Another potential member of our organisation may have entered without seeing us.’
‘Wait!’ said Prune. She handed Jonty a pair of huge sunglasses under the table. ‘Wear these so no-one recognises you.’
The café was virtually empty, but they could not be too careful.
Jonty put the sunnies on and peeped around the edge of his menu. There were two old women sharing a scone. Another old man sucked at his tea to cool it, but he sucked so hard that he made a whistling sound through his false teeth. There was one other person, also crouching behind his menu.
‘Someone else is hiding,’ Jonty reported. ‘I’m going to investigate!’
Wearing the enormous sunglasses, he jumped up and wandered over to the counter, pretending to get some sugar. As he sidled past the person behind the menu, he did a double-take.
‘Mr Gosney!’ he gasped. The Sports teacher was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, but Jonty recognised his autographed Wallabies tracksuit.
‘Shh!’ Mr Gosney said.
‘What are you doing here?’ hissed Jonty.
‘Go and sit down. I’ll come over when I know no one’s watching.’
Jonty walked back to his seat as calmly as he could. A few moments later Mr Gosney shot over, set up another big plastic menu up on the table and edged along next to the three others.
‘I really can’t be seen here,’ he said. ‘I’ve signed a contract saying I won’t contact any school students. Mr Foster sacked me. He claims I was stealing footballs from the school, because there were some in the boot of my car. I was only taking them to a school match. He’s threatened to call the police in if I speak to any of you.’
‘But why?’ Jonty frowned.
‘It’s just an excuse. Sports are to be the first “student-directed” study period,’ said Mr Gosney.
Only Nathaniel understood what he meant. ‘He means the students are teaching themselves instead of doing sports.’
‘You’ve got to help us, Mr Gosney,’ said Jonty.
‘I can’t. If I’m seen here, I’ll never teach again. All I can say is whatever you do, don’t get sent to the principal’s office. He’s doing something to everyone in there. I don’t know what, but if you get sent, run away, go home, do anything but go there!’
‘Can I take an order, or are you going to hide all day?’ It was the waitress. They all jumped and knocked over the menus.
Like a shot, Mr Gosney leapt up, ran out of the café and straight into Sue Sue C Lady Fashion.
They weren’t sure what was more shocking — Mr Gosney’s warning, or seeing him in a hideous fashion shop.
‘Well?’ The waitress tapped her order pad. Jonty ordered a Coke to make her go away.
‘It’s obvious what we have to do,’ he said, once he’d got rid of her.
‘What?’ said Prune.
‘We’ve got to make sure we’re sent to the principal’s office.’
‘But Mr Gosney said —’ Nathaniel didn’t like going against a teacher’s instructions — even if it was a sacked Sports teacher, who was hiding behind some frilly orange blouses.
‘Jonty’s right.’ Prune nodded. ‘It’s the only way we’ll find out what’s happening.’
Thinking it was almost impossible, Nathaniel asked how they planned to get into the principal’s office.
Jonty grinned. This was his area of expertise. ‘Nathaniel, mate,’ he said as he clapped his hand on the smaller boy’s back, ‘it’s about time you learnt the joys of being really really bad.’
CHAPTER 14
THE NAUGHTIEST KIDS IN THE SCHOOL
The second class on Tuesday was Maths with Mr Croxall again. The room was empty in first period and that made it ideal for setting up what Jonty had planned.
When all the perfect students arrived, they saw a big juicy book sitting on each desk. Over four hundred pages of absolutely massive equations. They salivated like lions in front of a steak. They were so eager to learn everything that was in the books, they ran to the seats to throw them open. Before they did, Boris noticed what was written on the whiteboard.
Do not open your books until instructed to do so.
‘Stop!’ He held his hand up. The other students obeyed. They sat down, rested their hands on the edge of the desk and stared hungrily at the books.
From the Dumb Circle at the back of the room, Jonty, Nathaniel and Prune pretended to concentrate on their own books. Every now and again Jonty looked up. He could see they were desperate to open the new books. He was enjoying their torture. He enjoyed even more the fact that they had all sat down so quickly.
‘Why should we wait?’ Mike asked. ‘It’s not as if Mr Croxall will be able to teach us anything. We’re a bit beyond his brain power now, aren’t we?’
‘He’s still our teacher.’ Anastasia drew herself up. ‘So we have to do as we’re told.’
The others nodded. Mr Croxall was still their teacher — for now.
Nathaniel grinned at Jonty. It was going exactly as they’d planned. All they needed now was for Mr Croxall to walk in. The students were itching to open those books. Boris looked at his watch. Mr Croxall was officially late.
The silence in the class continued as everyone waited.
Then it was Nathaniel who gave in. He had worked so hard at preparing to be bad that he couldn’t wait a moment longer. The plan would work just as well.
‘What’s in your book, Boris?’ he asked loudly.
‘I don’t think you’d understand. It’s high level stuff.’ Boris sniffed.
‘Oh really? I was looking at it last night,’ Nathaniel said. ‘I found it rather … childish. Amusing, but childish.’
The class turned round and glowered at him. The thought that Nathaniel was reading at their level was horrifying.
‘I found chapter six somewhat sensational,’ he said.
This was too much for them. They wanted to obey the sentence on the whiteboard, but their craving for knowledge was stronger. In perfect unison, they all threw open their books, desperate to read the chapter that Nathaniel had found so sensational.
‘Yeuch!’ they shrieked in disgust, as green liquid burst out of the books at them.
Boris choked as it fired into his open mouth.
‘The mess!’ Miranda squealed, as the food dye splattered all over her beautiful clean uniform.
Mike’s face was a dripping green mess.
The night before, Nathaniel and Prune had hollowed out the centre of each book and put in a booby trap. When the book was opened, it pulled a band that released a squirt of green food dye at high speed.
‘You!’ Boris growled at Jonty. His old friend had to be behind this trick.
‘Wasn’t me!’ said Jonty with a grin.
Furious, Boris and Mike jumped up to their feet — only to lose their balance. Their bums were stuck to their chairs and they crashed around, knocking their desks over. Soon all the students were standing, trying to pull their chairs off their backsides.
‘Now that was me!’ Jonty shouted above their wailing and the scraping of chairs. He had smeared every chair with a heat-activated glue. As the heat of their bodies warmed the glue, the students had stuck themselves fast.
Half the class fell over, as they tripped each other up with their chair legs. Desks were upended and books spilt onto the floor. In seconds the perfect classroom was in chaos. The more they lost control, the more the students panicked and the more they swung around. Boris was trying to remove his pants to get the chair off, but he fell over with his pants tangled around his knees.
Anastasia had managed to get her ponytail caught on the back of Mike’s chair and was being dragged along by her hair every time he swung round. She screamed out in pain and the others started screaming, too. Miranda and Lynn had got their chair legs caught on each other, were pulling furiously in opposite directions and crashing into everyone, as they tried to free themselves.
‘What on earth is happening?’ a voice boomed out from the door.
Mr Croxall had arrived at the perfect moment. His beautiful classroom was a disgusting mess. Green food dye was everywhere. The desks were scattered around the place and his perfect students looked hideous.
They froze at the sound of his voice and stood there trembling, not sure what they should do. Boris sat on the ground, trying to look as dignified as possible without his trousers on. The others followed his lead and sat down where they stood.
Mr Croxall entered the classroom and stopped. Jonty needed him to take one more step forward, but he stood still. As he looked round the scene and saw the only three students without green dye on them sitting at the back of the class, Mr Croxall knew exactly who to blame.
The Trouble with Sauce Page 5
