by , Sammy J;
Justin wondered how anybody could be so cruel.
Then he remembered that he was entirely responsible for the whole miserable evening.
‘OI! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?’
Justin froze. Behind him, he heard the sound of boots on concrete.
‘STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE!’
It was a Year Ten cadet, and she sounded brutal.
Justin waited as she approached, wondering whether to stay or run. He didn’t like his chances either way.
To his great relief, she marched right past him, shining her torch in a wide arc across the quadrangle, until the light beam pinned a frightened girl standing by a vending machine.
‘I was just getting a drink,’ said the girl, her voice quivering.
‘You need written permission from Wade Turner to quench your thirst,’ replied the army cadet. ‘And he’s lost his pencil.’ She raised her walkie-talkie. ‘We’ve got an unauthorised beverage stop in the quadrangle. Send backup.’
The girl’s eyes grew wide with fear. The army cadet stared back, unflinching.
‘I don’t make the rules, honey.’
Two more cadets appeared out of nowhere and began dragging the girl to custody.
No time for guilt, thought Justin. I need to find Eliza.
A light rain was falling by the time he arrived at the Old Music Department.
It was bigger than the other buildings – two storeys high, in fact – but looked in far worse shape. Rusty guttering dangled from the roof, and several of the windows were broken. Someone had spray-painted ‘Spawt B4 Thawt’ on the door, managing the rare feat of misspelling an entire sentence.
Justin glanced behind him, pushed the door open, and stumbled into a room full of students playing the loudest, most chaotic game of soccer he’d ever seen.
At the far end of the room, an antique piano was being used as a goal, letting out a tragic musical groan every time a ball slammed into it.
Justin didn’t know much about soccer, but he was pretty sure you were only allowed one ball on the field. Right now he could see over twenty of them, flying in every direction and bouncing off every wall.
It was pandemonium.
Girls and boys leapt high to land kicks in mid-air, while the less sporting students lay on the ground clutching their shins or covering their faces.
I could stop all of this right now, thought Justin. Only he knew how to fix the bell. He imagined the relief these poor students would feel if they heard it ringing out to free them from this nightmare.
Then he imagined Eliza hearing the bell and disappearing forever.
He couldn’t give up yet. Guilt could wait until morning.
Across the room, Justin spied a set of stairs. He took a breath and stepped onto the battlefield. A ball bounced off his head. He took another step forward. Someone scored a goal, and the piano let out another violent, tuneless thlunk. Justin kept his head down and tried to blend in with the crowd. Another step forward. He’d nearly made it across the room. Then, just as the staircase was almost within reach, he felt something attach itself to his leg.
It was a human hand.
To Justin’s relief, the hand was attached to an arm.
And the arm, it turned out, was attached to Peter, the curly-haired boy from class. His glasses lay on the floor beside him, and squashed chocolate cake oozed out of his pocket. He looked up at Justin in desperation.
‘Please save me,’ Peter whispered.
Justin’s guilt finally got the better of him.
He glanced around to make sure nobody was watching, then ducked down as another pair of legs thundered past.
‘Listen to me,’ said Justin. ‘There’s a place – for kids like us – they’ll look after you—’
Through the forest of legs, Justin saw some army boots entering the room.
‘Head across North Field,’ he whispered urgently. ‘Climb the fence and walk towards the mountain. You’ll find a bus. Tell them Justin sent you.’
Peter looked frightened.
‘Trust me,’ he said, handing Peter his glasses.
At that moment, three shirtless Year Tens tumbled on top of them, each fighting to grab hold of a soccer ball. Justin wrenched his ankle free and leapt towards the stairs. Looking back, he saw Peter scramble to his feet and charge towards the exit.
Justin’s guilt eased a little. Whatever happened next, at least one kid had been saved.
The rain had grown heavier by the time Justin made it upstairs. So heavy, in fact, that it was now dripping steadily through several holes in the roof.
Justin shone his torch down the corridor, where puddles were forming on the mouldy carpet. It felt like it had been a long time since anyone had been up there. The bright green walls looked eerie in the torchlight. On the wall, faded photographs featured choirs and bands from years gone by.
Justin paused to inspect one of them. Smiling back at him was a young man holding a clarinet. The face looked familiar, but Justin couldn’t place it. He aimed his torch at the caption underneath:
Head of Music, Mr Atkins.
Justin realised with a shock that he was looking at his sports teacher. Only this Mr Atkins looked much younger, much happier, and much more musical.
Eliza was right. This school was weird. And, it seemed, it was getting weirder by the hour.
Further down the hall, smaller rooms branched off on either side. Justin crept down the corridor, opening each door one by one.
The ‘Brass Room’ was covered in graffiti.
The ‘String Room’ was empty, but for two broken chairs.
The ‘Percussion Room’ smelt like dead pigeons.
Justin grew more despondent with each room he checked. Perhaps his hunch had been wrong. Maybe Eliza wasn’t in the Music Department. Maybe she’d gone home after all.
He slipped his torch into his pocket, then stood in the darkness and soaked in the noises of the night.
Below him, he heard the sound of the piano being assaulted.
Above him, he heard the sound of water leaking through the roof.
Ahead of him, he heard the sound of a guitar being played.
Which was quite odd, as he was fairly certain there hadn’t been a guitar playing only moments earlier.
He followed the melody down the hall and pressed his ear against the door of the ‘Miscellaneous Instrument Repair Room’.
It was a simple tune – just two chords, repeating themselves. One of the chords sounded cheerful, the other sounded melancholy, and over the top a girl’s voice hummed some notes that seemed to glue it all together perfectly. Justin didn’t know how to play music. He didn’t even know if this was good music. But he knew that it was the best thing he’d heard since high school had started.
Justin felt his body relaxing as he listened. Five minutes seemed to pass, then ten, then fifteen, and soon time stopped mattering altogether. It was a blissful feeling. For a while, those two chords carried Justin far away from the drama of high school.
Ten thousand years ago, time didn’t really exist. Well, not as we know it. There was just day and night, and when it started getting dark, you knew it was time for dinner. Then the ancient Egyptians started using sundials to figure out when it was time for lunch, and decided to carve up the day into twelve bits. Why? Because they quite liked the number twelve, that’s why. Hence, the hour was born. This worked pretty well until five hundred years ago, when humans got greedy and started dividing the hours up into minutes. This was only possible because they had invented mechanical clocks. Without clocks, humans would be rubbish at telling the time. Which is why some people can believe that fifteen minutes have passed when actually it’s only been forty-five seconds.
Justin kept on listening. He imagined this moment would become one of his favourite memories – right up there with winning the Chess
Championship.
In his head he was a fruit bat, soaring high over Mount Willow without a care in the world.
In reality he was a twelve-year-old boy listening to a girl through a door without her permission.
Eventually, Justin the fruit bat floated back to earth and gently knocked on the door. The guitar stopped immediately.
‘Who’s there?’ asked Eliza.
Justin nudged the door open and smiled. ‘Thought I might find you here.’
A small lamp lit up the room. Eliza was sitting with her back against the wall. Her hair had finally escaped from its elastic, and curls sprang out in all directions. Justin felt a surge of happiness when he saw her.
Eliza looked surprisingly self-conscious. ‘How long have you been there?’
‘Not long,’ said Justin. ‘That … that sounded really cool.’
‘Thanks,’ Eliza said awkwardly. She held up her guitar. ‘I found this in the cupboard. It’s missing a string.’
Justin surveyed the room. It was a mess. Broken instruments littered the floor, and microphone cables spilled out like strands of spaghetti.
‘It’s bizarre,’ muttered Eliza. ‘A whole Music Department, completely abandoned … what happened at this school?’
Justin opened his mouth to answer, but Eliza didn’t appear to be listening. She gazed out the window, lost in her thoughts, as drops of rain formed patterns in the moonlight. ‘I thought I’d be on my way to Canada by now,’ she mumbled. ‘It’s taking way too long to finish high school.’
Justin nodded sympathetically.
‘My parents told me I was going to enjoy this place,’ she continued. ‘I think we can safely say they lied.’
Justin struggled to find a positive response. ‘At least they believe in you,’ he said with a shrug.
Eliza turned to Justin. ‘Yours don’t?’
‘They told me I’m a loser.’
Justin winced with embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to say that. But something about Eliza made him want to be honest.
‘What sort of loser?’
‘I don’t know. Just an ordinary loser, I guess.’
Justin took a step sideways to dodge a leak that had sprung from the ceiling.
‘But there are different types of losers,’ said Eliza thoughtfully. ‘Like, if you lose something – say you lost your pencil – well then I guess you’re technically a loser.’
‘I think they meant it more generally.’
‘Well, that’s subjective,’ said Eliza.
‘What does that mean?’
‘Subjective means it’s just an opinion. So just because someone says you’re a loser doesn’t mean you are a loser.’
Justin smiled. He hadn’t thought of it like that.
Above them, the leaking roof was starting to sound like a waterbed. Eliza sighed, idly plucking a guitar string.
‘So, who do you think did it?’
Justin was confused by the sudden subject change. ‘Did what?’
‘Broke the bell.’
Justin’s cheeks started burning. He tried to act natural. ‘Not sure. Maybe it just broke from … natural causes?’
Eliza scrunched her face up. ‘Come on, Justin. You heard the principal. It’s been working fine for over a hundred years. Smells dodgy to me.’
A stream of water hit Justin’s head. He shuffled forward to avoid it, wishing he could avoid the conversation as easily.
‘Maybe the gardener was right,’ he said hesitantly. ‘Maybe there is someone locked in the bell tower.’ Justin felt a bit bad blaming a fictional ghost for his crime, but it was all he could think of. ‘Brad Hestor, wasn’t that the kid’s name?’ Now Justin was naming the fictional ghost. He needed to stop talking.
‘Well whoever did it had better hope they don’t get stuck in a room with me,’ said Eliza. ‘I can’t promise I’d be non-violent.’
The string she’d been plucking snapped.
Justin felt a mix of nerves, guilt and shame rising inside him. He swallowed hard, pushing the feelings back down.
Above them, the waterlogged ceiling was starting to groan.
Eliza peered up at it and frowned. ‘That doesn’t sound too good to me,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘Maybe I’ll be safer in my tree.’
‘Actually,’ said Justin, suddenly remembering his mission, ‘I know somewhere even safer.’
Eliza looked suspicious. ‘What do you mean?’
Justin grinned. ‘Follow me. I’ve got a surprise for you.’
Justin stepped over a puddle and flung the door open.
His grin didn’t last long.
‘Surprise,’ smirked Wade Turner.
Justin held his breath – partly in terror, and partly to avoid choking on deodorant fumes.
‘Pretty sure this isn’t your activity,’ snarled Wade. ‘Which means you’re both comin’ with me.’ He plucked an aerosol can from his belt holster. ‘Been saving a special spot for you in custody.’
Justin froze. His own policy of non-violence was becoming increasingly unsustainable. At the very least, he thought, he should be prepared to defend himself against a chemical attack. He dropped to the ground and grabbed the closest object.
It was a piccolo.
A piccolo is a very small flute, capable of producing high-pitched notes of incredible beauty.
As an instrument, it’s magical.
As a weapon, it’s useless.
‘Nice try, loser,’ chuckled Wade. Justin edged backwards towards the window, swinging his piccolo in front of him as The Smirk advanced.
If you have a moment, please try this: fill a room in your house with water, switch off all the lights, grab a piccolo (if you don’t have a piccolo, a toothbrush will do), then walk backwards for two metres over a pile of broken instruments and cables while swinging the toothbrush back and forth at an imaginary enemy.
If you manage to stay upright, you’re doing better than Justin Monaghetti.
It was the trombone that tripped him. Justin tumbled backwards, landed at Eliza’s feet, and watched as Wade loomed over him, brandishing his deodorant.
‘Right,’ said Wade. ‘We can do this the easy way or the hard way.’
‘Let’s try the hard way,’ Eliza shot back, throwing open the window. Sheets of rain blew into the room.
Justin frowned. As horrible as the thought of custody was, the idea of plummeting to the ground from the second storey was definitely worse. ‘We – we can’t get out there,’ he stuttered.
‘Nonsense,’ she said. ‘We just have to be creative.’
With this, she tumbled backwards out the window.
Even The Smirk gasped.
Justin jumped up and ran to the window. To his great relief, he found Eliza hanging confidently from a microphone cable. Then she leaned back, tightened the cable, and abseiled down the building, landing perfectly on the ground. Justin wondered if she had been a cat burglar in a previous life. He also wondered how on earth he was going to follow her.
‘Come on!’ Eliza called up through the rain.
Justin’s eyes bulged. So this is where learning to navigate a high ropes course would have come in handy, he thought.
Behind him, Wade growled into his walkie-talkie. ‘One of ’em’s escaped. Send backup.’
‘ON OUR WAY, SIR!’ came the reply.
Eliza was waiting below.
‘It’s not that far down!’ she yelled.
Justin’s legs, which were reverting to jelly snakes, disagreed. He longed for a few more minutes. High-pressure decision-making wasn’t his strong suit.
‘You can’t run all night,’ sneered Wade. ‘Might as well save yerself the trouble and come with me.’
Justin glanced around, searching for a way out of this mess. Above him, the ceiling was starting to droop
under the weight of the rain. It looked like it could collapse at any second.
Justin stepped forward and sighed.
‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘Just take me to custody.’
Wade paused. ‘What about ya friend?’
‘I’ll help you find her if you like.’
Above them, the ceiling churned like an upset stomach.
‘Sweet,’ smirked Wade. He looked surprised at Justin’s surrender. ‘Didn’t expect it to be so easy.’
Justin smiled. ‘Neither did I.’
With this, Justin Monaghetti leapt as high as his decidedly non-jumping legs would lift him, thrusting his piccolo into the soggy, neglected roof of the Miscellaneous Instrument Repair Room and sending a deluge of plaster, water and pigeon excrement onto Wade Turner’s head.
It was the biggest spitball Justin had ever seen.
Wade reeled backwards, clutching his eyes and spluttering, as Justin raced to the window, gulped, and launched himself out. There was no time for fear. He bumped and scraped his way down the cable, landing a little less effortlessly than Eliza – flat on his back, in fact – but he didn’t care. He was free.
‘Nice landing,’ said Eliza, helping him up.
‘That’s subjective,’ muttered Justin.
Torches sliced through the rain as the Night Patrol marched around the corner. Justin realised with dismay that he was going to have to follow his jumping and abseiling with some Olympic-level sprinting.
‘This way,’ he said, dashing towards North Field.
Eliza raced to catch up. ‘I didn’t know you were such a fast runner!’ she said between breaths.
‘Neither did I,’ said Justin, without looking back.
This night was full of surprises.
The rain had eased by the time they reached North Field. Justin leaned against the fence, gasping, as Eliza looked back towards the school.
‘You realise we’re fugitives now,’ she said, grinning.