Operation Hurricane: The Evan Boyd Adventures #1

by Benjamin Shaw

  ‘Right, 10B, do I have your attention?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Oldroyd,’ came the bored, robotic response.

  ‘Excellent. Seeing as it’s Parents’ Evening tonight, I won’t see you for form group at the end of today, so I’ve got a couple of notices to give you now.’ Miss Oldroyd picked up a slip of paper from her desk. ‘Anyone involved in getting the Atrium ready for Parents’ Evening tonight should report to the Atrium at 3pm sharp and be ready to set up the displays. Next, you may recall that tomorrow is test day for anyone who missed the maths mock exam…’

  She stopped as she noticed that Boyd was now fully asleep, his head slowly slipping down his arm. He let out a gentle, crackling snore. Miss Oldroyd was not much for shouting, but she could only be pushed so far. ‘Boyd!’ She used his surname, like everyone did, including his father. Miss Oldroyd’s voice had risen to a tone and a volume that none of the class had heard her use before. Not quite a screech and not enough to shake the windows but certainly enough to make Boyd’s head snap back into an upright position.

  ‘Huh,’ Boyd let out a noise that didn’t resemble any word from the English language.

  ‘Boyd, did you hear what I said?’

  ‘Absolutely, Miss, every word,’ he replied.

  The class chuckled softly. He hadn’t meant it as a joke, he was just trying to spare them both embarrassment. On reflection, it might be a bit late for that.

  ‘Really? So, what was I talking about?’

  ‘You, erm… You said something about Parents’ Evening and then, to be honest, I might have nodded off – for which I can only apologise.’

  Laughter burst out from his classmates. Boyd meant it, he wasn’t playing for laughs, he was genuinely sorry. Miss Oldroyd was clearly fuming, Boyd hoped she was going to give him at least some credit for his honesty.

  ‘I was talking about the maths test tomorrow, something that should interest you.’ Miss Oldroyd placed both her hands on her desk and looked at Boyd with laser focus. ‘As I understand it, you missed the last test and if you don’t pass this one, Mr Providence isn’t going to let you run in the county championships next week.’

  Boyd sat upright, his cold, blue eyes narrowed.

  ‘Ah good, I see that has got your attention,’ Miss Oldroyd said.

  Bully Boys

  Boyd sat on the wall at the back of the school playing field, blinking against the scorching hot sun. It seemed like the whole school was outside this lunchtime; bags and jumpers had been thrown down, some used as goal posts, others as something to sit on. Everyone had something to do or something to talk about, all except Boyd, who kept himself to himself.

  There was no one here he could talk to, no one who would understand. He kicked his heels against the wall and looked at the pathway that ran down the side of it. It led into the woods behind the school and this was the cross-country route they used for practice. He couldn’t miss the race next week; he knew that if he ran he would win, and he had worked so hard for it.

  But he was utterly hopeless at maths. Sometimes, he sat there with the paper in front of him and the numbers seemed to dance all over the page; none of it made sense to him. Numbers had no rhythm, no heartbeat – he felt no connection with them. When he ran, when he practised Taekwondo or boxing, he felt that connection. It was like he had a fire inside him to run the perfect race, or to pass a belt-grading, and that made everything feel right, just for that moment.

  His father would always go on at him about how you have to do things you don’t enjoy; that’s part of life and if you don’t learn that early on, you’ll never be really happy. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t happy a lot of the time. He never felt like he fitted in but his dad said that this was all part of growing up. Boyd didn’t want to hear that; he didn’t want to know that this was normal, and everyone felt it. Looking out at this field, it didn’t seem like anyone else felt like he did. He didn’t even care if his dad felt the same when he was 15, he just wanted to do what made him happy because that was what life was about, surely?

  Doz and Strakes wandered over. They had been talking to a group of girls. Boyd had half-heard the story Jason had told them about how his older brother had a motorbike that he allowed Jason to use and he liked to go to London on it at weekends. Boyd knew that wasn’t true. Doz’s older brother had a motorbike, but he didn’t live at home; Boyd didn’t think Doz saw much of his brother.

  He’d invited Boyd to go out at the weekend on their mountain bikes, but Boyd told him no, which wasn’t something many people said to Doz. He was big, tall and broad. He’d matured ahead of most of the other kids in their year and he used his size as power, forcing people to do whatever he wanted. But Boyd could see beyond the bully’s bravado, and that Doz was also a little bit scared and a little bit lost. Even so, pretty much the last thing Boyd wanted was to hang around with him and his idiotic friends.

  ‘Alright Boyd, you plonker,’ Strakes said, followed by a snort at his own joke. The lanky, buck-toothed boy must have been as tall as Boyd’s dad, who was about six foot three, but he was as thin as a rake. He tried to copy Doz’s peacock walk but his feet flopped in front of him like a clown.

  ‘Oh, don’t start on him, Strakes,’ Doz said, his big lips parting to show his perfect teeth.

  He somehow managed to get away with being such a bully because all the teachers liked him. With his curly blond hair and his baby-faced good looks, along with his easy manner, Mr Providence could never quite believe that Doz terrified every kid in the school.

  Well, almost everyone. He wasn’t even on Boyd’s radar and this seemed to really bug the bully. No matter what he tried to do to scare or intimidate Boyd, it didn’t work. It wasn’t so rare for someone to disagree with him once but most fell in line after Doz had grabbed them by the collar of their shirt and pulled their face up to his. He’d tried that once with Boyd, just once. Boyd had put his arms up through Doz’s and pulled them apart, pushing the bigger boy back a step, and breaking his grip. Boyd’s strength had shocked Doz, so now he was wary of him and he didn’t like to wind him up too much. But he did enjoy seeing how far he could go and trying to make him look like a fool in front of people.

  ‘I take it you’ll be failing the maths test tomorrow, then?’ Doz said.

  ‘Yeah, whatever,’ Boyd replied, not interested. He wasn’t failing the test; he knew that much for certain.

  ‘I hear it’s a new test, much harder than the last one. There were complaints from the government or something. Too many people passed it, so they upped the ante.’

  ‘Are you joking? It’s not the same test as a few weeks ago?’ Boyd’s head snapped around as he suddenly gave the big lad his full attention.

  A football had rolled over towards them and a group of boys were walking over to get it back. Doz turned to see them and put his foot on the ball. Now was his chance to play to the crowd. ‘So, you’re never going to pass, you’re thick at maths and you know it. Which means you won’t be allowed to run next week.’ Doz changed his voice, so he was sounding like a crying child. ‘So, you won’t get your special little medal and daddy won’t be proud of his little soldier!’ He turned to Strakes, who snorted.

  A crowd had quickly gathered out of nowhere, everyone sensing the crackle of tension in the air. Unlike the bully, Boyd couldn’t care less about what the crowd thought of him, or the fact that Doz was mocking him; he was just angry about them making a last-minute change to the test – this was a disaster.

  Doz just thought that the look on Boyd’s face was because he’d been defeated; and he wasn’t going to let it pass without adding a wonderful full-stop. So, he flicked up the ball with his foot, bounced it once on his knee and hit a perfect volley, sending the ball straight at Boyd’s face. The hard, leather sphere flew like a cannonball. Half a second later, a sudden ‘CRACK’ sounded out as it stopped in mid-air. Boyd had caught it. There was a heavy silence as the whole school waited to see what would happen next.

  Boyd jumped down from the wall.
Strakes and Doz both jolted backwards and immediately wished they hadn’t. It brought murmurs of laughter from the crowd, plus a couple of chicken squawks. Boyd stepped towards Doz and looked him in the eye. ‘Why don’t you and your overgrown clown here go for a run yourselves? Maybe in the middle of the motorway, at night.’ Boyd shoved the football into Doz’s chest with both hands, pushing him down onto his backside. The school bully was getting a dose of his own medicine, and the gathered throng erupted into collective laughter.

  Boyd didn’t notice. He was already halfway back across the field when Doz was up on his feet and drop-kicking the football with all his might, sending it deep into the woods for its owner to have to go and find. Boyd didn’t care about Doz or Strakes or any of them; they could all get stuffed. He’d spent two weeks working out how to get a copy of the last maths test so he could make sure he passed. He needed a plan, fast.

  Running Mates

  Boyd slowed down as he ran over the hill, allowing a couple more people by him. Normally by now, he would be way out in front with perhaps one or two classmates trying to match him for pace, but today’s cross-country training was always going to be different; the showdown at lunchtime had changed everything. If there was a new maths test, then it was in Mr Providence’s office and the Prov, as he was known, always kept his office locked. Added to that, exams were kept in the Head’s safe, which was in a cabinet behind his desk. This was the worst kind of problem for Boyd because it was a problem he couldn’t solve alone, and he really didn’t like relying on other people.

  Boyd allowed three more classmates to go by and eventually, after what seemed like an age, Fitz Tork came alongside him, wheezing like a set of bagpipes. Fitz was small and skinny, with a mess of black hair that was never really styled and right now was stuck to his head with sweat. He panted like a dog in the sun as he glanced up at Boyd, then back at his feet, before suddenly looking up at the bigger boy in shock, clearly amazed at having caught up with the fastest boy in school. Then, before he could say a word, Boyd grabbed Fitz’s arm and dragged him through a thick tangle of bracken, down a slope and off the path.

  ‘What the hell are you playing at?’ Fitz shouted as they burst down the bank and Boyd pulled him under a little bridge. Boyd held his hand over Fitz’s mouth and put his finger up to his own lips.

  Boyd didn’t know an awful lot about Fitz, but the truth was, he really should have. Fitz idolised Boyd; he always tried sit next to him in class, always tried to find him at lunchtime and every school trip he made sure he was in the seat next to Boyd on the coach. He talked at Boyd for hours, week-in and week-out, and Boyd listened to none of it. He should have known everything there was to know about Fitz Tork but, in truth, there were just two things he knew for certain: one, he was known as ‘Tork the Dork’; and two, Fitz once told Boyd that he could crack a safe.

  Let’s Get Cracking

  Boyd and Fitz sat under the wooden bridge as their classmates trotted overhead. Fitz had just about got his breath back and calmed down before Boyd told him his plan. Now Fitz was inching back towards being hysterical.

  ‘Sorry, you want me to do what?’ Fitz yelped in amazement. Despite being so skinny, he had a babyface and right now it was screwed up like someone had put something disgusting under his nose.

  ‘Not you, us,’ Boyd said, crouching next to Fitz and gripping his shoulder encouragingly.

  ‘Sorry, right; you want us to break into the Prov’s office and pinch the new maths test from his safe?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Right, okay, let me think about this for a second.’ Fitz rubbed his pale chin with his short fingers. ‘That’s going to be a “no” from me, I’m afraid. But this was lovely, honestly – great to catch up and everything. Oh, and by the way…’ Fitz’s voice then climbed to something very much like a shriek as he said, ‘…are you off your meds or what?’

  Boyd clamped a hand over Fitz’s mouth as another group of classmates clattered over the bridge. ‘I get it,’ he said sympathetically.

  ‘Do you? Because I’ve got to be honest, from where I’m sitting it kinda seems like you don’t.’

  ‘Oh come on, I know it sounds insane, but where’s your sense of adventure?’

  Fitz’s eyes widened, his voice suddenly becoming very high again. ‘I left it at home with my P.E. kit,’ he replied, pointing down towards the very small pink polo shirt and huge, baggy shorts he’d been given to wear from lost property. ‘Heads-up, genius: when an idea sounds insane, it’s usually because it is.’

  ‘Okay, let’s take this down a notch because your voice is so high, only dogs can hear you. You’ve got some questions, I understand, so how about we calm down and ask away.’

  Fitz closed his eyes and took a deep breath; in through his nose, out through his mouth. ‘Just one question,’ he said, more relaxed this time.

  ‘Go ahead,’ Boyd replied.

  Fitz picked up a stick and drew a box in the mud. He pointed to the box with the stick. ‘The Prov’s office is completely off-limits. Only prefects and the most trusted students are permitted entry.’ Fitz drew two lines on one side of the box, to show Boyd where the door was. ‘He keeps the door locked whenever he’s not there.’ Fitz picked up a stone and put it outside the box. ‘It’s Parents’ Evening tonight, so he’ll leave a student outside the room with a key and a walkie-talkie.’ He tapped the stone with the stick, to show Boyd it represented the student. ‘So, if the Prov needs anything, he calls and this chap comes running.’ He lifted the stick and slapped it against his palm. ‘This is before we even talk about the matter of the actual safe.’

  ‘The safe is sorted,’ Boyd said. ‘I Googled it. Then went around the school and collected everything you’ll need to break into it.’

  ‘Oh, that’s alright then,’ Fitz said, sarcastically. ‘How do you plan to actually get into the office and not get caught? Bradley Turvey got detention for stopping outside the door the other day, literally just for stopping. The Prov put “loitering” on the detention slip; Bradley had to ask me what the word meant. It’s like 10 Downing Street – you won’t get near the door.’

  ‘Great question.’

  ‘Thank you, I thought so.’

  ‘The answer is pretty great too,’ Boyd said, taking the stick from Fitz and tapping the stone. ‘The guy at the door won’t see us. We don’t have to worry about walkie-talkies, keys, loitering or any of that.’

  ‘Right! Because since lunchtime, you’ve developed the ability to walk through walls. I forgot! We’re home and dry then.’

  ‘No. That would be pretty cool, but no,’ Boyd replied. He took the stick, flipped it around in his hand and speared it into the ground on the other side of the box. ‘No one will ever know we were there because we’re going into that office from below.’

  Tunnel of Trouble

  Oakmead Secondary School was split into two main buildings: the old part and the new part, joined together by a long glass walkway. The music room was at the back of the old part of the school, which was made from crumbling bricks, was always cold and smelled liked wet dog. The Prov’s office was also in the old part of the school but it was a big building, and it would take time to get there, especially with the route Boyd had in mind. Luckily, almost everyone else would be in the new school building for Parents’ Evening, giving Fitz plenty of opportunity to work on cracking the safe.

  ‘Follow me,’ Boyd said, dropping a thin rucksack down onto the floor as he walked over to the piano in the corner of the music room. He started pushing it and the wheels squeaked as they turned, slowly at first – the big old instrument probably hadn’t been moved in years – then they loosened up and gave in to the force as the piano rolled into the middle of the room. Mr Morgrave, the Head of Music, always liked to sit at his piano and be able to see the whole class, even when he wasn’t playing on it. Just watching Boyd move the instrument made Fitz feel a little flash of excitement. They were doing something they shouldn’t be doing, in one of the rooms of the
school you weren’t allowed in without a teacher. The excitement was bubbling inside him and he was already thrilled by whatever was coming next.

  ‘Come on,’ Boyd said, waking Fitz from his daydream. ‘Make yourself useful; move the piano stool and roll up the rug.’

  Fitz did as he asked, a big smile crawling across his face. He swayed and stumbled before plonking the heavy stool down in the middle of the room with a thump.

  ‘Let’s try to be a little more covert, shall we?’ Boyd said.

  ‘Sorry, yeah, of course,’ Fitz replied. He rolled the rug back from the corner of the room and there, underneath, was a wooden hatch. ‘Wow,’ he said in a whisper. He got on his knees and carefully stroked the join where the hatch met the floor. ‘Is this it?’

  ‘This is it.’ Boyd smirked. ‘It’s an old ventilation tunnel that leads to the other rooms in the block. It’s going to be a bit of a crawl to get to the Prov’s office, but I figure if we make it in 20 minutes, we’ll have at least 20 minutes to have a go at the safe and another 20 to get back here before they start shutting up for the night.’ He smiled, then crouched down. ‘But listen,’ he added, ‘god only knows what’s down there, so be prepared, okay?’ He stood up and went back for the rucksack.

  ‘Whoa, hold the phone,’ Fitz said louder, suddenly not so eager. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  Boyd picked up the bag and unzipped it. ‘I’ve not been down there, and I doubt anyone has in years, so we just need to be ready in case we find… anything.’

  Fitz held up his hands. ‘Like what? Give me an example.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Are we talking body? Buried treasure? A missing Shakespeare sonnet?’ His voice was building up to a shriek again. ‘And how do you even know it leads to the Prov’s office if you haven’t been in there?’