‘The sooner I have a chat with your mother the better,’ muttered Mrs Parsnip under her breath. Then she said, more loudly, ‘All right, CJ. You can go back to your class now. But I expect to see your mother tomorrow!’
Cecil slunk out of the office. How dare Mrs Parsnip criticise his mum!
Big Bernie smirked at him. ‘That was really interesting! I heard every word!’
‘Oh, go feed your fingers to the fishes,’ muttered Cecil. He was too upset to worry about Big Bernie now. He tramped back through the rain to his classroom.
CHAPTER 12
All Over School
It was all round the school at lunchtime. Big Bernie must have told everyone, thought Cecil dismally.
But at the same time he felt sort of glad that the secret was out. Secrets were a heavy weight to carry and anyhow, so what if he was different? So what if Mum was different?
So what if Filthy Frederick had cockroaches in his beard and sounded like a seagull with laryngitis when he sang, or Harry the Hook had a hook as well as his two hands, or Ambrose One Arm had only one arm and two teeth, or Putrid Percival spent all day cooking sea monsters? They were his family!
The rain pelted down onto the asphalt. Cecil sat in a damp corner by himself and tried to chew his sea monster sandwiches and stared at the rain.
‘Hey, CJ!’
It was Shaun and Jason. ‘What do you want?’ muttered Cecil grumpily.
‘We just wanted to ask, is your mum really…?’
‘Yes!’ yelled Cecil. ‘She really is a pirate! So go away!’
‘You don’t have to yell,’ said Shaun.
Jason nudged him. ‘Leave him alone for a bit,’ he hissed. He hesitated, then said, ‘We’re over by the hall if you want to sit with us.’
Their footsteps splashed across the asphalt.
Cecil didn’t even look up. He didn’t want to sit with anyone. He didn’t want to speak to anyone. He just wanted to eat his sandwiches and keep the tears from falling…Anyway, now he wasn’t hungry.
Cecil threw his sandwiches in the bin and stomped off to the library, where he could be alone.
CHAPTER 13
Rain
It rained all through lunch. It rained all through maths.
Cecil looked at his watch. Only another hour to go and then he was never coming back to school, ever. He’d become a pirate even if he had to drink turtle dung and vampire bat seasick potion all his life, even if he got a stiff neck from watching the stars, even if it meant leaving behind the library and the computers and all the books…And your friends, said a small voice in his brain.
‘They’re not my friends!’ Cecil told himself. No one would want to be friends with a kid from a pirate ship!
He looked at his watch again. Fifty-eight minutes till the bell…Suddenly the bell pealed, over and over. Cecil looked at his watch again. It must be slow! But the bell kept on ringing and ringing and ringing. Then suddenly it stopped, and Mrs Parsnip’s voice came through the intercom.
‘Attention everyone! This is an emergency. I repeat this is not a drill! Would everyone please take their bags and proceed immediately to the school hall. I repeat, this is an emergency. Everyone is to go to the school hall now!’
‘What’s happening?’ asked someone in the back.
Mr Farthingale shook his head. ‘Right, row by row, front row first. No shoving, no running, just grab your bags and walk—not run—as fast as you can to the hall. Front row.’
Chairs scraped as kids got up.
‘Second row.’
The front row kids had already grabbed their bags and were heading off through the rain.
‘Third row.’
Cecil stood up. ‘What do you think’s wrong?’ whispered Shaun behind him. Cecil shrugged.
‘Can’t be a bushfire,’ said Jason. ‘Not in this weather. Maybe someone’s spilt something dangerous in the chemistry lab.’
Cecil grabbed his bag and trotted through the rain. Half the school was in the hall already, the other half heading swiftly in from the outlying buildings.
Mr Farthingale pointed to the rows near the front. He carried the roll book under his arm and had grabbed his briefcase too. All around them teachers were getting everyone seated and checking names on their rolls too.
‘Mervin McIntyre.’
‘Here, miss.’
‘Kate Linell.’
‘Here, Mrs Parsnip.’
‘Shaun Delaney.’
‘Here, sir.’
‘Jason Jones.’
‘Here, sir,’ said Jason.
‘Cecil, I mean CJ.’
‘Here, sir,’ said Cecil, peering round as the chaos in the hall turned to order.
Mrs Parsnip climbed up onto the stage. She was wearing her raincoat and hat. ‘Is everyone checked off?’ she called.
There was a chorus of ‘yeses’ from the teachers.
‘Then please listen carefully. There is no need to panic, but we have to move swiftly. The Budgerigar Dam has burst up river.’ There were gasps all around them. Someone screamed faintly toward the back of the hall. ‘Now calm down. The floodwaters will hit us in approximately half an hour…’ continued Mrs Parsnip.
‘Now, really,’ as some of the younger kids began to cry, ‘we will be quite safe as long as we are sensible about this.’
Cecil craned his neck to see out the hall door. The creek looked much the same, smooth and brown and only a little higher up its banks.
‘Most of the town should be all right as it’s on a hill, but as you know the school is on lower ground right by the creek. So the emergency services have arranged for the school buses to pick up everyone from school and take them to safety before the flood gets here. Settle down!’ she yelled, as the buzz of cries and chatter broke out across the room. ‘I said there was no need to panic!’
‘Now there aren’t enough buses to take everyone at once so we will start with the youngest children first. Miss Appleby, could you take your class out to the bus stop please, then Miss Lee’s class and Mrs Peters’.’
Mrs Parsnip paused while the littlies left the hall, then glanced at her watch. ‘There is really plenty of time,’ she said, a bit uncertainly now. ‘All right, I want everyone to stay in their seats until the buses come back, but you can talk among yourselves.’
Cecil sat frozen in his seat as the excited talk buzzed around him. A burst dam! A wall of water rolling down the river! Had anyone else in this room ever seen a giant wave? Had any of them any idea of the power of water?
Jason nudged him. ‘Better than maths, anyway.’
‘Yeah. I suppose,’ said Cecil, biting his lips.
‘You okay?’ asked Jason.
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ Cecil looked at his watch. Five minutes since the littlies had left. How long would it take for the buses to take the younger kids to high ground, then come back and take them too?
Ten minutes passed and the buses still hadn’t come back. Fifteen minutes…the water would be thundering towards them.
Mrs Parsnip’s mobile phone rang. She answered it, spoke briefly, then put it away.
‘The buses are on their way back,’ she announced. ‘I’d like you to go out quietly to the bus stop, row by row, and wait for them.’
Everyone leapt from their seats and headed out the door before she’d finished talking. Some of the kids were laughing, but others looked worried, and a few of the girls were holding hands. Cecil trudged through the rain by himself, his hands in his pockets.
The rain was even harder now, thick grey stripes spearing down from the sky. It was difficult to even see the bus stop, thought Cecil, or the oval, or the creek…Cecil gasped. He ran over to Mr Farthingale. ‘Sir! Sir!’
‘What is it CJ?’
Cecil pointed. ‘The creek! It’s rising! Look!’ Mr Farthingale peered at the creek through the rain, as though he expected to see a wall of water plunging towards them.
There was no wall of water. But the little creek had vanished. Instead the wate
r swirled, brown and frothy, up over the banks. Every second it rose higher and higher, eating the banks and oval in great hungry gulps. Metre after metre of ground disappeared.
Mr Farthingale took one glance at the deserted road and bus stop then made a megaphone with his hands. ‘Everyone back to the hall! Now!’ he yelled.
‘Why should we…?’ began Big Bernie.
Cecil turned on him. ‘Don’t you know how to obey orders!’ he yelled. ‘You wouldn’t last five minutes on board ship!’
Big Bernie smirked. ‘Your mum’s pirate ship? Hey,’ he said to Jason, ‘did you hear? This drip thinks his mum’s a pirate.’
‘I bet your mum’s a blue-bummed baboon,’ said Jason. ‘That’s how come she got a big baboon for a son. Come on!’
Mr Farthingale was already at the hall. The doors were shut. Cecil glanced back. The water was still rising steadily up the hill from the oval. It was almost at the netball courts now.
What was Mr Farthingale thinking of? The hall would be flooded in a few minutes. They’d be trapped inside and drowned!
‘Okay,’ yelled Mr Farthingale ‘I want everyone up on the hall roof. Mrs Parsnip and I will give you a leg up. I want two of the bigger boys—yes, you Shaun and Jason. Up you go first then you can reach down and help the others up. Right, Jason…’
Jason put his foot on Mr Farthingale’s and Mrs Parsnip’s hands and as they heaved, sprang up till his belly was over the eaves. He clambered the rest of the way then leant down to help Shaun.
‘No way!’ Big Bernie shoved his way to the front and elbowed Shaun out of the way. ‘I’m going next! I’m not waiting for the flood to get me!’
He looked back nervously. The football oval was deep under water now, brown and swirling.
Mr Farthingale looked like he might protest. He caught Mrs Parsnip’s eye. She shrugged. It was quicker just to heave Big Bernie up.
Big Bernie’s feet disappeared over the edge of the roof. Now Jason was leaning down to grab Shaun’s hand, then Shaun and Jason leant over to help Maryanne, Emma, Leanne, Jack, Troy…
Cecil hung back. No matter how scared he was, he wasn’t going to push his way to the front like Big Bernie. Let the others go first.
Four more to go…three…two…
‘Snap!’
Cecil looked around. The flood was only a metre away now, creeping up the hill towards the hall. As he looked the water seeped across the ground to his feet, and began to lap against the wall of the hall.
‘Snap!’
What was that? Cecil gazed around frantically. It had sounded like…
‘Snap!’ The crocodile chewed at a discarded hot dog and stared at him from under the rubbish bins.
‘What are you doing here you dumb crocodile?’ yelled Cecil.
Snap stared at him as though to say, ‘aren’t you glad I’m here to keep you company?’
Cecil bit his lip. Snap must have followed him to school! He must have been worried about him and swam up the creek.
‘You stupid crocodile!’ yelled Cecil. ‘The flood will sweep you away! Come over here at once!’
‘Crocodile!’ squeaked Mrs Parsnip. ‘Is that a crocodile? But there aren’t any crocodiles in Bandicoot Creek!’
‘Get back, CJ!’ yelled Mr Farthingale. ‘That thing looks dangerous!’
‘He’s not dangerous!’ explained Cecil. ‘He’s a pet!’
‘A pet crocodile!’ Mrs Parsnip protested. ‘But we don’t allow pets at school!’
‘Come here, you dopey reptile!’ yelled Cecil again. Snap blinked at him, confused. ‘Hurry!’ screamed Cecil. The water was halfway up to his knees now.
Snap didn’t move.
‘CJ! Up on the roof! Now!!’ shouted Mr Farthingale.
‘I can’t leave Snap.’ cried Cecil. He began to wade over to the rubbish bin.
‘Don’t go near that crocodile!’ shrieked Mrs Parsnip. She looked like she didn’t know whether to be more scared of the flood or the crocodile.
‘CJ, the water’s rising fast!’ shouted Mr Farthingale.
Snap thrashed his tail in the murky water. ‘Snap?’ he asked. He sounded worried.
‘It’s all right, boy,’ called Cecil. The flood swirled around Cecil’s knees. He could feel the water tug him now, cold and ruthless. ‘Swim over to me, Snap!’ he cried.
The crocodile looked down at him as though to say, ‘no, you come here and we’ll go back to the ship. I don’t like this place!’
The water tugged at Cecil’s waist.
‘We’ll both drown if you don’t come,’ shouted Cecil.
Suddenly Snap moved. One minute he was cowering in the water under the rubbish bin, the next he was swimming through the water and leaping up onto Cecil’s shoulder.
‘Ow!’ cried Cecil, as twenty kilos of crocodile skin, tail and bad breath landed on him, then common sense took over. He began wading back towards the hall, with Snap hanging over his shoulder like a wet crocodile-skin towel.
The flood was chest high now. The current pushed and pulled at him; Cecil forced himself forwards. He’d never make it! The water was too high, the current too strong. He’d left it too long!
A strong hand grasped his. ‘You’ll be right!’ yelled Mr Farthingale above the noise of the water, as he pulled Cecil through the floodwaters back towards the hall.
‘Hurry!’ shouted Mrs Parsnip, eyeing Snap doubtfully. She held Mr Farthingale’s other hand in hers, steadying them both as they forced their way through the flood.
The water was too deep now for him to stand on the teachers’ hands. Instead Mr Farthingale hoisted Cecil (complete with crocodile stole) up onto his shoulders. Up on the roof Shaun and Jason leant down, their hands reaching for his.
Snap grunted in his ear, his claws digging even deeper into his shoulder, his jaws reaching up to Jason and Shaun’s hands…
‘Don’t bite their fingers off, you dumb crocodile,’ yelled Cecil. ‘They’re trying to help us! This is no time for a snack!’
Snap closed his jaws. Jason and Shaun each grabbed one of Cecil’s hands and pulled him upwards. Up…up…up…His wrists felt like they might break with the weight of his body and Snap’s too. His belly grazed against the guttering.
Then suddenly he was on the roof, gasping and trying to catch his breath, while Shaun and Jason hauled up Mrs Parsnip as Mr Farthingale heaved her up from below.
‘Ooof!’ said Mrs Parsnip, as she landed belly down. She looked up at once. ‘Everyone keep away from that crocodile!’ she ordered.
‘He won’t hurt anyone!’ gasped Cecil, as Snap gave a sharp ‘Snap!’ as though to say, that was a rough ride up, and crawled off his shoulder onto the roof. Someone screamed, but Cecil was too tired to take any notice.
It was Mr Farthingale’s turn now. Shaun and Jason reached down towards him, while Cecil tried to get his breath.
Suddenly a hand shook his shoulder. ‘CJ, we can’t reach Mr Farthingale!’ yelled Jason above the noise of the flood and rain. ‘There’s no one down there to help him get up here!’
Cecil hauled himself upright, staggered to the edge of the roof and peered down. The water was almost up to Mr Farthingale’s shoulders now. ‘Can’t he climb up part of the way?’
Jason shook his head. ‘There’s nothing to hang on to!’
Cecil thought fast. When you came aboard ship, you climbed the ladder, and if there was no ladder, the crew cast down a rope. ‘Quickly!’ he yelled. ‘Take your tracksuit pants off!’
‘What?’
‘You heard me! Fast!’ Cecil stripped off his own tracksuit bottoms as he spoke.
Big Bernie giggled behind him then whistled. ‘Nice underpants!’ Then he gulped as Snap suddenly turned his grinning jaws in his direction. ‘Hey, is that crocodile real?’
Try stuffing your fingers in his mouth and find out, jellyfish belly, thought Cecil, but he didn’t bother saying it aloud. He grabbed Jason’s tracksuit pants, then Shaun’s, and twisted them together with his own and knotted them.
‘Making a rope! One pair of pants wouldn’t be strong enough, but if I tie them together, they should take Mr Farthingale’s weight.’
Cecil threw the tracksuit rope down to Mr Farthingale. Mr Farthingale grabbed it. The water was at his shoulders now, and he had to keep hold of the drainpipe to stop being swept away. But he shook his head. ‘I’ll pull you off the roof if I tug on this,’ he called.
‘No, you won’t!’ yelled Cecil. ‘Jason, hang on to the rope on my left, and Shaun, you hang on to the right. Now everyone get behind one of us and grab hold of the person in front like a tug of war. When I say heave, heave!’
The class lined up behind them. Only Big Bernie hung back and finally, even he joined in so as not to be left out.
‘Heave!’ yelled Cecil. ‘Mr Farthingale, leap!’
Mr Farthingale leapt. For a moment his legs dangled in the water, then slowly, slowly, they dragged him up, up, up…
‘Ooof,’ said Mr Farthingale, as he landed on his tummy on the roof.
‘Snap?’ said Snap. He crawled onto Mr Farthingale’s back and settled down comfortably.
‘Get off, you dumb crocodile,’ gasped Cecil, shoving him off with his foot. ‘That’s a teacher, not a cushion!’
Suddenly his legs wouldn’t hold him any more. He unknotted his pants, pulled them back on shakily and collapsed down onto the hall roof. Snap crawled over to him and put his snout in Cecil’s lap.
Shaun and Jason pulled their pants on too, keeping a wary eye on Snap. ‘Hey, is that crocodile, um, like dangerous?’ asked Jason.
‘No,’ said Cecil. ‘Well, a bit,’ he added honestly. ‘He does eat slavers and…well, bad people. He chews their fingers and toes anyway.’
‘What sort of bad people?’ asked Big Bernie, moving his feet away nervously.
One Big Wacky Family Page 4