Contact

by Chris Morphew

  ‘Just about.’ I clicked my pen and started scribbling down the boxes of one of my blank surveys.

  ‘Hey, you said –’

  ‘Mate, I’ve got three left, and we’ve already asked everyone. I’ll mix ’em in with the others and Pryor won’t know the difference.’

  ‘Fine, whatever,’ said Luke irritably. ‘So did you ever figure out what was up with Cat the other day?’

  ‘Nah,’ I said, flipping over the page and filling out the other side. ‘Couldn’t get anything out of Mike or Tank. They definitely both know, though, from the looks on their faces when I asked.’

  ‘What about Cat?’

  ‘What do you reckon?’ I said, bitterness jumping at me out of nowhere. ‘Good luck getting two words from her about anything anymore.’

  ‘Weird,’ said Luke. ‘She freaks out when we catch her, but then we get to geography and she’s right back to pretending we don’t exist.’

  ‘Pretending I don’t exist, you mean. Only problem she has with you guys is that you’re hanging out with me.’

  Luke shrugged.

  I finished the survey, shoved it into the middle of my pile, and got started on the next one.

  ‘Hang on,’ said Luke slowly. ‘You and Cathryn weren’t ever …?’

  My pen slipped out of my hand.

  ‘What?’ I said, catching it before it hit the ground, mind suddenly flashing with images of Cat, of how it’d been back in the beginning, of how things had almost –

  ‘Nah, mate,’ I said, grabbing hold of my brain again, ‘you know I’m a one-woman man.’

  ‘Actually, right now I think you’re technically a zero-woman man,’ said Luke.

  ‘Whatever,’ I said. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, I’m making some serious headway in that department.’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ said Luke, scanning the quad. ‘Well, we should probably go see if she’s –’

  He stopped short, staring out past the admin building. ‘Peter –’

  ‘Yeah, I see ’em.’

  Pryor was coming into the school from across the street, talking to a guy in a suit with two black eyes and a bandaged head.

  ‘Who’s that?’ asked Luke, moving in for a closer look.

  ‘Ben More,’ I said. ‘Works in my dad’s building.’

  ‘Ben? The one who went after Crazy Bill when he tried to break out of the security centre?’

  ‘Definitely looks like he’s had a run-in with Bill,’ I said, grabbing the back of Luke’s bag in time to stop him disappearing around the side of the admin building. ‘Hang on.’

  I poked my head out to see Pryor and Ben going in at the other end. As soon as they were gone, Luke got moving again, creeping along the front of the building.

  ‘Mate,’ I hissed, two steps behind, ‘what do you think you’re – ?’

  He stopped about halfway down, climbing up on a bike rack and peering in through the window.

  ‘You really think this is a good idea?’ I said, clambering up next to him.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Shh!’

  From where we were standing, we were just high enough to see through the window to the hallway inside. Pryor and Ben were standing outside the principal’s office.

  Ben reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a key card just like Pryor’s. He waved it past the sensor and the big metal door swung open.

  Pryor glared at the back of his head like, Excuse me, this is MY office, then followed him inside and shut the door.

  ‘Huh,’ I said. ‘She didn’t like that.’

  ‘Why would he have a key to her office?’ asked Luke.

  ‘Dunno,’ I said. ‘But Ben’s one of Shackleton’s top guys. He could probably get a key to pretty much anywhere he wanted.’

  I stared at the closed door.

  And the door stayed closed.

  ‘Well,’ I said after a minute, ‘that was boring. Let’s go see if –’

  I bit my tongue as Pryor’s door swung open again. Pryor walked out, grumbling and shaking her head.

  But where was Ben?

  I stretched up on my toes, trying to see into her office through the half-open door. But as far as I could tell, he was nowhere inside.

  It was like he’d just disappeared.

  CRASH!

  I ducked down and leapt off the bike rack. Luke had just lost his footing and stacked it across a row of bikes. He staggered back, trying to find the ground again, his pile of surveys flying out of his hand.

  ‘Crap,’ I muttered, grabbing the stupid unco by the back of the shirt and pulling him free. He scraped the mess of papers back together and we bolted back to the quad.

  ‘Mr Weir! Mr Hunter!’ called a voice from behind us. ‘May I see you for a moment?’

  Pryor was standing at the edge of the quad. She looked pretty cut at first, but by the time we’d backtracked across the asphalt, her face had shifted back into a smile. ‘May I ask where you two were off to in such a hurry?’

  ‘Just looking for Jordan, miss,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Luke panted. ‘We wanted to tell her we’d finished our assignment.’

  He held out the very crumpled stack of papers. Pryor pursed her lips.

  ‘They’re a bit of a mess,’ said Luke nervously, straightening up the pile. ‘I dropped them. Sorry.’

  ‘He got a bit over-excited,’ I said. ‘You know how it is when you’re filling out surveys.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Pryor coldly. ‘Well then, I suggest you begin analysing your findings. I will meet with the three of you at lunchtime tomorrow to discuss the results.’

  ‘Uh, right,’ I said. ‘Great. See you then, miss!’

  Pryor didn’t move.

  ‘Is there something else, miss?’

  ‘Just one more thing,’ Pryor smiled. ‘If I ever catch either of you snooping around my office again, I will arrange for your lives to become extremely unpleasant. Is that understood?’

  Chapter 6

  FRIDAY, MAY 22

  83 DAYS

  ‘All sorted?’ I whispered as Jordan crept into the room and sat down next to me.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said out of the corner of her mouth. ‘It’s the one just outside the door at the other end of the building.’

  We were sitting in the front office, waiting for Pryor to show up. Jordan had stopped on the way here to cram one of the bins in the quad full of newspaper – part one of our plan to get Pryor out of her office.

  ‘You okay?’ asked Jordan, leaning over to talk to Luke.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, snapping around to face her, eyes open slightly too wide. ‘Yeah, good. I’m good. Let’s do this.’

  He’d been exploding with nervous energy all day. Not that I could blame him, I guess. By the end of the day, we’d be telling his dad and everyone else about what was really going on in Phoenix – or we’d be even more dead than we already were.

  I just hoped he could hold it together in Pryor’s office.

  ‘Mr Hunter,’ said Pryor, suddenly appearing in the doorway. ‘You first, today.’

  Luke jumped up like she’d zapped him with a Taser and followed her back down the hall.

  Huh. Pryor was tightening the leash again. No more letting us decide who went in to see her first.

  I wasn’t complaining about her choice, though.

  I looked across at Jordan. She was leaning forward, arms resting on her knees, like she was bracing herself for whatever was coming next.

  She smelled good today.

  ‘So what do you reckon happened to More yesterday?’ I asked, leaning in nice and close to whisper in her ear. It’s important to be covert in these situations.

  ‘You tell me,’ said Jordan. ‘You’re the one who saw it. You sure he wasn’t just behind the door or something?’

  ‘What would he be doing behind the door?’

  ‘Well, either he was still in there somewhere and you guys just didn’t see him,’ said Jordan, ‘or there’s another way out of Pryor’s office that we don’t know abou
t.’

  ‘Secret trapdoor under the rug?’ I suggested.

  Jordan smiled back. ‘Right.’

  After only a minute or two, Pryor was back.

  ‘Miss Burke,’ she smiled, after sending Luke outside. ‘Please come with me.’

  ‘Good luck,’ I whispered as she stood up.

  ‘Yeah, you too.’

  And just like that, Pryor unknowingly finished handing out the jobs for our little heist. Jordan and Luke on distraction duty. Me in charge of grabbing the phone.

  I kicked back in my seat and tried not to think too much about what would happen if we were caught. This was actually surprisingly easy, thanks to all the other stuff that was buzzing around in my brain; trying to figure out where Ben had disappeared to yesterday; wondering where they’d put Crazy Bill and what I was supposed to be doing with his stupid clue; marvelling that I’d just had a whole conversation with Jordan without getting yelled at even once.

  Not that the yelling ever really fazes me. I mean, nothing wrong with a passionate relationship, right? But the peaceful moments are nice too.

  Before long, I heard the familiar clunk of Pryor’s door reopening. I checked the clock on the wall. Lunch was almost over. If this was going to work, we needed to get moving. I got up and crossed the room, meeting Pryor as she reached the doorway.

  ‘Goodness,’ she said, almost running into me. ‘Eager to get started, are we, Mr Weir?’

  ‘You know it, miss!’ I said, pulling my surveys out of my bag. ‘I’ve got some exciting findings for you.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Pryor headed back down the hall. I followed her into the office and she pushed the door shut behind us.

  This was it. Any minute now, Jordan and Luke would start unleashing mayhem on the quad.

  There was no way to guarantee that what we were planning would get Pryor out of her office, but I was pretty confident. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt in my time at school, it’s how to make a scene.

  ‘All right, Mr Weir,’ said Pryor, sitting down at her oversized desk, ‘let’s see what you’ve come up with.’

  I handed her the stack of surveys, along with a hand-scribbled page of ‘findings’ that I’d torn out of the back of my English book.

  She scanned the page for about two seconds, then pushed the whole pile aside and said, ‘Very good.’

  A flicker of a smile passed across her face. Not the usual, dopey, let’s-all-be-best-friends smile. This one was different. She was baiting me.

  See these surveys you just spent all week doing for me? I’m not even going to look at them.

  Of course, we’d known from the beginning that the whole thing was a joke, but the smug look on her face was still bloody annoying. All the more incentive to make sure our plan worked.

  I smiled sweetly back at her and said, ‘Thanks, miss. What do we get to do next?’

  ‘Mrs Stapleton will contact you shortly with your next assignment,’ said Pryor. ‘In the meantime –’

  Through the back wall of the office, I heard somebody scream.

  Pryor hesitated, hearing it too, but pushed on. ‘In the meantime, I’d like you to begin speaking to the students in Years 7 and 8 about –’

  More screams, some panicked, some excited.

  I opened my eyes wider, shooting for surprised and curious, trying to figure out how to help get Pryor out of here. Which would seem more innocent: asking Pryor about the noise, or pretending to ignore it?

  Pryor’s eyes flashed to the door, considering.

  Come on, I thought. You know you want to. Get out there and see what’s going on.

  The shouting got louder, and now most of it was the same word.

  ‘Fire!’

  ‘Hey miss,’ I said, ‘did that kid just –?’

  Pryor got to her feet and stormed around her desk to the door, muttering something about the teacher on duty. I leant forward in my chair, ready to be on my feet as soon as she was gone.

  Pryor heaved the door open and stuck her head out.

  ‘Mrs Stapleton!’ she shouted. ‘Would you please get out there and deal with that?’

  Crap. We’d forgotten about Staples.

  But then the office lady’s voice echoed back up the hall. ‘Sorry, Melinda, she’s gone to lunch.’

  Before Pryor had a chance to respond, I heard footsteps running along the hall from the other end of the building. A little pack of Year 7 girls appeared in Pryor’s doorway, led by the freckle-faced kid who’d been pestering us with suggestions.

  ‘Ms Pryor!’ said Freckles. ‘The boys have set a bin on fire! Now they’re putting sticks in it and –’

  ‘Who’s on duty?’ snapped Pryor.

  ‘Mr Larson!’ said Freckles. ‘He was there a minute ago but now we can’t find him.’

  That would be because Luke had him distracted with a very important question about our English homework.

  The chaos was sounding louder than ever. There had to be a pretty big crowd by now.

  ‘All right,’ said Pryor, exasperated. ‘Show me.’

  Finally.

  But Pryor wasn’t finished with me yet. ‘Mr Weir,’ she said, pushing the door all the way open. ‘Out.’

  ‘Huh?’ I said. ‘Oh. Yes, miss.’ I got to my feet and trudged past her, out into the hall.

  Why hadn’t I seen this coming? Of course Pryor would want me out of there. How could I have been dumb enough to think she’d leave a student alone in her office?

  Another chorus of laughs and shouts rang out from the quad.

  ‘Come on, miss!’ said Freckles. ‘They’re just outside!’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said Pryor. She stomped away down the hall, the Year 7s hovering around her like flies on a carcass.

  I trailed behind for a few steps, then looked back over my shoulder at Pryor’s door. It was still swinging shut.

  I stopped walking.

  Pryor was five metres from the end of the hall.

  The door was closing fast. Any second now, I’d hear that dull clunk, and it would all be over.

  Had to risk it. Don’t look back, Pryor, don’t look back, don’t look back …

  I leapt back down the hall and jammed my foot in the doorway.

  Don’t look back, don’t look back, don’t look back …

  Half a second later, I felt the metal door crush into the side of my shoe.

  I gritted my teeth against the pain of it.

  Don’t look back, don’t look back, don’t look back …

  At the end of the hallway, Freckles pushed the glass door open to let Pryor out. Pryor stepped through the door, turned towards the quad, and for a second I was sure she’d spot me out of the corner of her eye.

  No! Go! Get out of here!

  And then she was gone.

  I let out a breath, heaved the door open again, and stepped into her office.

  Chapter 7

  FRIDAY, MAY 22

  83 DAYS

  The door clunked shut behind me.

  I dashed to the back of Pryor’s office. Dived behind her desk. Stopped and listened.

  Still plenty of noise outside, but I knew it wouldn’t take Pryor long to put a stop to that.

  I looked under the desk.

  There was a single, heavy-looking drawer on the right-hand side. I was about to pull it open when I noticed Pryor’s computer screen.

  Her recording program was still running.

  I grabbed the mouse, hit pause, and deleted the last thirty seconds of audio.

  ‘What is going on here?’ Pryor’s voice exploded behind me and I nearly hit the roof.

  But it was coming from outside, blasting over the mayhem in the quad.

  Stop. Breathe.

  I stared back down at the drawer. Grabbed the handle. And pulled.

  The drawer didn’t budge.

  I glanced up at the metal door, panic rising in my stomach. The noise outside was disappearing fast.

  I pulled at the drawer again. Nothing. It was locked.

  A
nd then the panic turned to rage and I started wrenching at the handle as hard as I could, rattling the drawer up and down, clunking and smashing and not even thinking about all the noise I was making, ready to tear the whole desk apart if I had to.

  Still nothing.

  I swore, kicked the leg of the desk, and then swore again as pain shot through my foot.

  Then I realised I couldn’t hear Pryor’s shouting anymore. I stepped back, fists clenched in my hair, staring furiously at that stupid bloody drawer.

  And then the drawer rolled open.

  It just unlocked all by itself and slid out from the desk, like someone was working it with a remote control. And there, sitting on top of a stack of white Shackleton Co-operative notepads, was Pryor’s phone.

  I stared around the office, adrenaline surging, suddenly positive that I was being set up.

  What the crap just happened?

  The bell rang.

  Just grab it! Just grab it and go!

  I took the phone, switched it off, and shoved it down into my sock. It was an older model. Would’ve been top of the line maybe five years ago. There was a weird bulge at the back of it, where the battery pack should be, like someone had modified it.

  I slammed the drawer shut again and ran for the door.

  I was halfway round Pryor’s desk when I remembered that the recording on her laptop was still paused. I leant across and set it going again.

  Across the room. Into the hall. Still deserted.

  Good.

  Out in the quad, Pryor was restoring order. The crowd of students was slowly moving off to their classes, talking and laughing and glancing back over their shoulders at the scene of the crime.

  The bin that Jordan had set on fire was still sending up clouds of black smoke and the occasional piece of smouldering newspaper. Even better, a couple of Year 7s were up against the office wall, getting busted by Pryor. Both of them had long, blackened sticks lying at their feet. By the look of things, they’d been using the sticks to pull flaming garbage out of the bin.

  Idiots.

  Good for us, though. Couldn’t have found a better way to shift the blame if we’d tried.

  I crept around behind Pryor, searching for the others.

  Jordan was at the other end of the quad, waiting in the doorway to the English building.