The Truth App

by Jack Heath

  The school was a sandstone building in the corner of a dusty field bordering some drought-hardened bushland. On winter mornings, Weirwalla Hill would cast a shadow across the school, but not now. The sun was already uncomfortably hot.

  Kirstie had once described the building as ‘like an Egyptian pyramid, only it’s a cube.’ This statement sounded silly—the main feature of a pyramid was that it wasn’t a cube—but that didn’t stop it from being true. The school seemed to be ancient, the hard edges worn away by centuries of harsh winds.

  The students had started whispering. ‘You see the interview?’

  ‘What interview?’

  ‘Oh, man! You gotta check this out.’

  A girl pulled out her phone and showed the boy next to her. Jarli didn’t need to see the screen to know what they were watching. His face hot, he pushed through the crowd towards the doors.

  A nasty surprise was waiting for him inside. Someone had printed out dozens of photos and glued them to his locker. All the photos were the same—a screenshot from Jarli’s TV interview. On the page, Jarli looked sweaty and hollow-eyed. The picture was captioned NO MORE QUESTIONS!

  Jarli could feel people staring at him as he tried to peel the pictures off. It was no use. They were printed on cheap paper which was weaker than the glue. He could only tear off tiny strips.

  Another boy, Owen, was walking past. Jarli knew him from the Coders Club, which met in the library on Mondays. Owen always had a steel ruler in his pencil case—maybe Jarli could use it to scrape off the posters.

  ‘Hey, Owen,’ Jarli said. ‘Got a sec?’

  Owen kept walking as though he hadn’t heard.

  ‘Hello? Earth to Owen.’ Jarli grabbed Owen’s shoulder.

  Owen shook off Jarli’s hand. ‘I can’t help you,’ he mumbled, without making eye contact. Then he scurried away, keeping his head down until he was out of sight.

  Jarli couldn’t believe it. He had helped Owen test games. They were supposed to be friends. Giving up on the posters, Jarli opened the locker, and recoiled as a foul smell wafted out. Someone had pushed a squishy brown substance through the ventilation holes, covering his library books. Jarli told himself that it was rotten fruit, but it could easily have been cow poo from the school’s agricultural plot.

  He would have to clean it up, but the smell was making him dizzy. His head started to throb and the edges of his vision went black. A migraine was coming on. He should have stayed home.

  The bell rang. Jarli closed the locker without taking anything out. He turned to go to class, wondering how he would explain his lack of writing materials to the teacher . . .

  But he found his path blocked. Four students were standing in the way, arms folded. Two boys, two girls.

  Behind him, Jarli found six more kids barring the way. Some were older than Jarli, some were a bit younger. HE WAS SURROUNDED. A few of the kids were holding up their phones, shooting video.

  One of them was Doug Hennessey.

  Doug had moved to Kelton last year. He was in most of Jarli’s classes, and he always sat near the back of the room, radiating anger. It was as though there was a big snake in the corner, and everyone was just pretending it wasn’t there. Jarli had never heard him say a single word.

  Now he said, ‘Jarli Durras. We want to talk to you.’

  ‘About what?’ Jarli said warily.

  A boy with a half-shaved eyebrow spoke up. ‘My dad used your app on me,’ he said. ‘Now I’m not allowed to leave the house.’

  ‘Maybe you shouldn’t have lied to your dad,’ Jarli said. His head was still pounding. He looked around for a teacher, but there were none to be seen.

  ‘My honesty score is forty percent,’ said a boy with a fringe that covered half his face. ‘Now no-one trusts me.’

  ‘That’s not even my app,’ Jarli said, getting angry. ‘Someone else copied me.’

  ‘Mum took away my phone,’ said a girl with dyed-black hair and zip-up boots. ‘I hadn’t even done anything wrong—she was just afraid that I would use your app on her.’

  ‘That’s your mum’s fault, not mine.’

  Doug didn’t say what he had been caught for. Maybe he didn’t want the others to know. Instead he said, ‘You shouldn’t have made that app. Actions have consequences.’

  It was almost exactly what Jarli’s mother had said, but now it sounded like a threat.

  ‘If you lied about something and got caught,’ Jarli said, ‘that’s on you. Don’t blame me for your lies.’

  Doug turned purple with rage. Whatever had happened to him, it was something bad.

  ‘Get him!’ he snarled.

  As the wall of kids rushed inwards, Jarli darted sideways, trying to squeeze between them and the lockers. But he was still dizzy. He tripped and slammed down onto the floor. He wondered if someone had stuck their foot out as his body bounced on the lino.

  As the world went dark, Mum’s voice echoed through his head. This will blow over in a day or two.

  That seemed less likely now.

  THE VETERAN

  ‘It’s not broken,’ the school nurse said. ‘But you’re going to have a nasty bruise.’

  Jarli hardly ever got sick. During flu season everyone else in his family would take a couple of days off school or work, but not him. And he hardly ever got injured, because running was his only sport. He didn’t get grazed knees like the basketball players, or concussions like the AFL kids.

  So when he woke up on the floor of the empty corridor, his wrist aching, he didn’t know where the sick bay was. He had to look through the school for ages before he found it. The entrance turned out to be inside the school gym, which made sense—that would be where most of the injuries happened.

  In the sick bay, the fluorescent lights hurt his eyes. The first aid posters on the walls took a while to come into focus. His head throbbed. He was so tired.

  ‘Here.’ The nurse had an ice pack wrapped in a flannel. She pressed it against Jarli’s wrist. She was a middle-aged woman in capri pants and a grey skivvy. She had a kind smile but sad eyes. Her name was Maria Eaton.

  ‘You want to tell me what happened?’ she asked. Jarli shook his head.

  Eaton took the ice pack off and examined Jarli’s wrist for a moment, then she put it back on. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘I used to be a surgeon in the army. One of the units I worked with—’

  ‘Really? How did you end up here?’

  ‘I finished my tour and quit.’

  ‘Aren’t you overqualified for this job?’

  ‘Yes.’ Eaton didn’t elaborate. ‘Anyway, my unit had this old guy—actually he was only thirty-seven, but the other soldiers were all in their twenties, so he seemed old to them. They called him “Nursing Home”. They played pranks on him, made jokes about how he couldn’t keep up. And they outranked him—he was just a private.’

  Leaving Jarli with the ice pack, she went over to the sink and washed her hands.

  ‘I treated him more than anyone else in that unit,’ she continued. ‘Mostly bruises, some grazes. I realised pretty quickly that the other soldiers were responsible. But he never complained. If he’d told his commanding officer, the bullying might have stopped.’

  Jarli remembered the hostile looks from the teachers this morning. Maybe they, too, had secrets which were threatened by the app. He wasn’t convinced they would help him.

  ‘Here.’ Nurse Eaton handed him a plastic cup of water. ‘Are you allergic to paracetamol?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘OK. Swallow this and drink the water.’ Eaton handed Jarli a tablet. Jarli gulped it down.

  ‘What happened to the old guy in your unit?’ Jarli asked. ‘Nursing Home?’

  ‘They left him behind during a retreat,’ Eaton said. ‘He’s dead.’

  Jarli walked out of the sick bay and onto the dusty wooden floor of the gym. Bess was sitting nearby on an equipment crate. Her crutches were balanced on her lap and she was trying, and failing, to spin a basketball on one finger. Jarli h
ad never been so relieved to see her.

  ‘Bess,’ he said. ‘Shouldn’t you be in class?’

  ‘Nah, stuff that.’ Bess put the ball down and brushed her long, dark hair out of her eyes. ‘My best friend needs me.’

  Whenever Jarli was in some kind of trouble—if he was struggling with an assignment, or he’d been ‘too honest’ with another student—Bess was usually the one who helped him out.

  ‘I don’t think you can fix this,’ Jarli said gloomily.

  ‘I have music class, so I may as well try.’ Bess was always looking for an excuse to get out of music class because she never did any practice at home. Her parents thought playing the trumpet would be good for her brain, but she struggled to move her fingers fast enough.

  Bess and Jarli had been friends since they were kids. They often helped one another with projects—he had sorted out the domain registration for her blog, and she had been the first and only special guest on his podcast. Jarli knew her so well that he hadn’t even been able to test his app with her. They had tried lying to one another, and the app didn’t pick it up. This could have been because they weren’t nervous, or maybe because they didn’t actually intend to deceive one another.

  Jarli sat down next to her. ‘Well, I’m glad to see you. Did you catch my TV interview?’

  ‘Yeah. Don’t be too hard on yourself. I’ve seen prime ministers do just as badly.’

  It took Jarli a few minutes to tell Bess about the robbery and explain all the other things that hadn’t fit into his messages. Bess listened, wide-eyed.

  ‘So you think the old man broke into your house?’ she asked, when he was finished.

  Jarli hesitated. That hadn’t occurred to him. ‘Why would he do that?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know, but if it wasn’t him, it’s a pretty weird coincidence. Since he couldn’t kill you, maybe he decided to steal your stuff instead.’

  ‘That doesn’t make much sense.’ Jarli squeezed his skull between his palms. ‘Then again, nothing seems to make sense anymore.’

  Bess patted him on the back. ‘Hey, at least there’s a bright side.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Mr Kendrick got fired.’

  ‘What?’

  Bess smirked. ‘Yup. His diploma was a forgery. He’s not qualified to teach here. And it was your app that busted him! He was saying something about his time at uni, and everyone’s phones went off.’

  ‘Huh.’ Jarli had never liked Kendrick, who shouted at students for no good reason and often criticised their work in front of the class. He also tried his hardest to get Jarli expelled after he found out that Jarli had hacked into his email account. But Jarli didn’t feel good about him getting fired.

  ‘How’s your wrist, anyway?’ Bess asked.

  ‘Sore. But Nurse Eaton says it’ll be OK.’

  ‘Did she tell you one of her war stories?’ Bess asked.

  Jarli laughed. ‘Yeah. Does she do that a lot?’

  ‘Every time I go in,’ Bess said. ‘I think she’s making it all up. Why would a combat surgeon end up as a school nurse in Kelton? Use your app on her next time—see if she’s telling the truth.’

  ‘Dad made me uninstall my own app,’ Jarli grumbled. ‘Then he password-protected my phone so I couldn’t put it back on.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Bess shifted her weight on the equipment crate. ‘That probably makes you the only person on Earth now who isn’t using the app.’

  ‘Are you using it?’

  ‘I had to turn it off. It kept telling me people were lying to me.’

  ‘That’s the point,’ Jarli said.

  ‘I know. But sometimes I’d rather believe what people are saying.’

  ‘You’re as bad as my sister.’ Jarli shut his eyes, willing the throbbing in his head to go away.

  ‘Don’t worry about the old man—or anyone else. From now on, I’m your personal bodyguard.’ Bess hefted one of her crutches. ‘You’d be amazed how hard I can swing these things.’

  ‘Thanks, Bess.’

  ‘Are you going to class?’

  ‘No. I think I’ll call your mum and get a ride home.’

  ‘Well, give her plenty of warning. She’ll want to do her hair and makeup for the cameras. She might even want to put out a press release titled: NATION’S BEST TAXI SERVICE DRIVES LOCAL CELEBRITY.’

  ‘She is loving this, isn’t she?’

  ‘Little bit, yeah.’

  They sat in silence for a moment.

  The gym doors opened. Jarli turned to look.

  Anya was standing in the doorway.

  ‘Jarli,’ she gasped. ‘There’s a brown ute parked behind the school!’

  INCURSION

  Jarli’s heart kicked into overdrive. At first he hoped it was a prank. Maybe Anya’s life had been ruined by the app, and she hated him too.

  But she looked deadly serious. Her cheeks were red and her hair was a mess. She had sprinted here to give him this message.

  ‘Did you see the old man?’ he asked.

  ‘No. The car was empty.’ Anya ran in, letting the door fall closed behind her.

  It took Jarli a moment to realise what this meant. The old man must be somewhere in the school, searching for him!

  All the colour had drained from Bess’s face. She pulled out her phone. ‘I’ll call the police.’

  ‘It will take them a while to get here,’ Anya said. ‘We have to get you off the school grounds.’

  Jarli hesitated. If he wasn’t at school, wouldn’t he be even more exposed? Maybe he should find somewhere to hide instead.

  ‘Police,’ Bess was saying. ‘A man is here looking for my friend. He’s dangerous. We’re at Kelton High School.’

  Jarli knocked on the sick-bay door and pushed it open without waiting for an answer. ‘Miss Eaton,’ he said. ‘There’s a—’

  He broke off. THE SICK BAY WAS EMPTY. The nurse was gone.

  Jarli looked around, baffled. There were no other doors. Had she slipped past them somehow?

  He looked at the window, wondering if she had gone out that way for some reason. But what he saw through the glass was a tall figure, carrying a bucket of cleaning supplies, walking towards the gym.

  It was the old man. He was coming!

  The panic hit Jarli like a wrecking ball. He ducked out of sight and scrambled back through the open door into the gym.

  ‘He’s here!’ he whispered. ‘What do we do?’

  ‘Please hurry!’ Bess hissed into the phone.

  Anya ripped open the equipment crate and grabbed a tennis racquet. She sprinted back to the gym door and jammed the racquet through the handles so the door couldn’t be opened.

  She was only just in time. Footsteps crunched towards the outside of the door. The handles rattled.

  Jarli held his breath.

  There was a knock at the door.

  The three kids looked at each other, eyes wide.

  ‘Who is it?’ Bess yelled.

  ‘This building is scheduled for cleaning,’ a voice said. ‘You kids shouldn’t be in there.’

  ‘We’re doing an exam,’ Bess said. ‘We’re not supposed to be interrupted.’

  Looking at Jarli, she mouthed, ‘Go! We’ll distract him.’ She pointed at the window in the sick bay.

  ‘What about you guys?’ Jarli whispered. He couldn’t leave them to face the old man alone.

  ‘He’s after you, not us,’ Bess said. ‘Go!’

  ‘The principal said it was urgent,’ the old man was saying through the door. ‘I won’t distract you.’

  ‘It’s a make-up exam,’ Bess said. ‘We aren’t allowed to let anyone in until it’s done.’

  Jarli ran into the sick bay, closed the door and went to the window. He looked around the frame for a latch, but there wasn’t one. How had Nurse Eaton gotten out?

  There was no time to fiddle around. He needed to get out of here, now. Jarli ripped the blankets off the bed to muffle the sound and held them up against the glass. With his other h
and he grabbed a paperweight off the desk—it was a lump of metal shaped like a set of scales.

  Jarli had never broken a window before. His first tap was too timid. The glass didn’t break.

  He whacked it again, harder.

  This time the glass splintered. Even through the blanket, the crack was loud. Jarli cringed as broken pieces jingled against the concrete outside.

  He draped the blanket over the window frame so he could climb through without cutting his hands. His shoes crunched across the broken glass outside, and then he was sprinting across the sports field towards the bushland.

  There was no fence at the school perimeter. The vegetation was thick and deep, all the way up to Weirwalla Hill. The old man would never find him in there. But Jarli was still worried about Bess and Anya.

  When he was almost at the other end of the sports field, he snatched a glance back. There was no sign of the police yet. Jarli could see the old man, standing outside the gymnasium. He was pounding on the door, yelling something.

  Then he seemed to sense that someone was looking at him. He turned his head and saw Jarli.

  They stared at one another for a moment, about fifty metres apart.

  The old man reached into his bucket and pulled out a gun.

  FASTER THAN A BULLET

  Jarli fled into the bush. The fear made him sprint faster than ever before. It felt like his feet hardly touched the ground.

  Something whizzed past his ear. A split-second later Jarli heard the crack of a gunshot. He screamed and kept running for his life.

  He ran uphill, swerving left and right at random, ducking around trees and rocks. He wished he could turn around and get back to the school or the town, where other people might protect him. But the old man was close behind—Jarli could hear him crashing through the scrub. His only option was to get out of sight.

  Bang! Another gunshot. Jarli barged through a cluster of bushes, darted right and kept running.