The Long Class Goodnight

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The Long Class Goodnight Page 8

by , Sammy J;


  ‘Fine by me,’ said Justin, catching his breath. ‘We’ll be safe soon anyway.’

  ‘Where exactly are we going?’ asked Eliza, looking a little unsettled.

  Justin tried to reassure her. ‘You’ll see. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.’

  ‘I’m intrigued,’ said Eliza.

  Justin climbed over the fence and led Eliza into the bushland, trying to contain his excitement. Everything in the universe, it seemed, had been leading to this moment. If Eliza liked the bus as much as he did, and decided to stay at school after all, then he didn’t care if the bell rang or not. In fact, he’d probably fix it straight away. Then the two of them could spend the rest of high school hanging out on a secret bus with their secret friends. It was a perfect plan, Justin thought to himself. Almost like clockwork.

  Above them, Mount Willow stood silently in the moonlight.

  Justin hurried on, Eliza close behind him, scurrying through the darkness until at last he stopped, pulled out his torch, and cleared his throat. He’d been trying to think of the right thing to say – ideally something smart, funny and endearing – but finally settled on something simple.

  ‘Eliza Burton – welcome home.’

  Justin switched on his torch and swung it proudly towards the bus.

  And it would have quite possibly been the happiest moment of his life – even better than winning the Chess Championship – but for one small problem.

  The bus wasn’t there.

  ‘A gum tree? Very funny,’ said Eliza. ‘So, where’s the surprise?’

  Justin opened his mouth, but no words came out.

  If everything had been leading to this moment, the universe had a sick sense of humour.

  The cogs in Justin’s brain were spinning out of control as he tried to figure out his next move.

  He could pretend he was a professional astronomer, and that he wanted to teach her how to tell the time by looking at the stars.

  Problem: he had no idea how to tell the time by looking at the stars.

  He could pretend he was on a mission to catch a giant killer wombat, and he needed to use her as human bait.

  Problem: that sounded both evil and insane.

  In the end, he decided to be honest.

  ‘There was a Music Department here. Just an hour ago!’

  In the torchlight, Eliza raised an eyebrow.

  ‘And Art too, and Drama …’ Justin swung his torch around wildly as he spoke, searching for signs of the bus, but all he saw was bushland.

  Eliza frowned. ‘You don’t have to lie to me.’

  ‘I’m not lying!’ said Justin, a little too loudly. ‘There was a bus here … with people like us on it … and they want us to join them …’ Justin suddenly realised how ridiculous he sounded. He clamped his mouth shut.

  Eliza sighed and sat down on a log.

  ‘Come here, Justin.’

  Justin slumped beside her.

  ‘Look,’ she said, ‘I’m not going to pretend everything’s great. This school is horrible. And I reckon it will keep being horrible. That’s why, when the bell finally goes, I’m getting out of here.’

  Justin closed his eyes. This was the worst motivational speech he’d ever heard.

  When he opened his eyes again, Eliza was looking straight at him.

  ‘But I want you to know something. No matter what anyone else says, remember: you are the best Justin Monaghetti in the whole world.’

  From high on the mountain, a fruit bat tweeted its approval.

  ‘And I want you to keep being the best Justin Monaghetti in the whole world. Whatever they do to you. Because once they realise they can’t change you, you’ll be invincible.’

  Justin felt his cheeks go red. He rolled his torch around in his hand, trying to think of the right thing to say.

  ‘Well,’ he replied. ‘I guess that means you’re the best Eliza Burton in the world, too.’

  ‘Actually, not quite. I made the mistake of googling myself. There are forty-seven other Eliza Burtons that I’ve found, and until I meet every one of them – which I plan to do – I can’t be certain that I’m the best. But that’s okay, because I’m definitely the best Eliza Burton who’s twelve years old and sitting with a friend, on a log, at school, in the dark right now.’

  Justin’s heart swelled. He sat for a moment in silence, then decided to be honest once again.

  ‘I wish you weren’t leaving.’

  But Eliza was already gone.

  Have you ever had a lucid dream? A lucid dream is like a normal dream – if there’s any such thing – except in a lucid dream you know that you’re dreaming. Which is basically the best thing in the world, because you can do whatever you like with absolutely no consequences. Rob a bank. Ride an emu. Eat an aeroplane. It’s just a dream, so you’re invincible. Of course, before you do any of those things, make sure you’re actually dreaming. A poor man once thought he was having a lucid dream when he wasn’t. He went to jail for trying to rob a bank while riding an emu.

  Justin Monaghetti wasn’t dreaming, although it would have explained a fair bit if he was.

  A magical disappearing bus, for example.

  Or the terrifying low growl he heard coming from the bushes.

  Justin scrambled backwards off the log and hunched behind a rock.

  The rock growled.

  Justin flicked on his torch.

  The rock was a wombat.

  A very large wombat, poking at something under a gum tree.

  It turned towards the light, licked its lips, then waddled nonchalantly away.

  Justin watched it go. When his heart settled back down, he found himself yawning. For the first time all night, he considered having a nap.

  He shone his torch over the ground, looking for a suitable spot. Perhaps the wombat had been nibbling on some soft, bed-like grass? Justin crept towards the gum tree and examined the ground, then froze.

  The wombat, it turned out, had actually been nibbling on a piece of squashed chocolate cake.

  And right beside that lay Peter’s broken glasses.

  Justin bit his bottom lip. This was bad. And he was responsible.

  Sleep could come later – he had to find the bus.

  And to do that, he had to find Miss Granger.

  A room full of sleeping teachers is a strange and magnificent sight.

  Justin crouched inside the door of the staffroom, shining his torch across the faces of the Mount Willow Secondary School staff. Having spent a whole day in the classroom trying to look smarter, sterner and better behaved than their students, they were now slumped on the floor, snoring and drooling like a group of toddlers at childcare. One teacher had fallen asleep with his finger stuck up his nose.

  Justin tiptoed over their bodies, inspecting each slumbering face. No sign of Miss Granger. On the wall, the clock ticked towards midnight. Justin made it down one row of teachers, and had just started inspecting the next row when a deep voice stopped him in his tracks.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ growled Mr Atkins.

  Justin froze.

  ‘Answer me!’

  ‘Um … I was looking for Miss Granger,’ whispered Justin.

  His heart sank. How pathetic. After everything he’d been through, this was how his first day of high school was going to end – captured by the Sports teacher.

  ‘But you’re playing in the wrong key! This song is in G minor!’ continued Mr Atkins.

  Justin peered down in confusion. Mr Atkins’ eyes were firmly closed, but he kept on talking.

  ‘Okay, once more. Flutes – we need to build up your lung capacity. And let’s have a little more vibrato from the strings.’

  Justin breathed a sigh of relief. He liked Mr Atkins a lot more when he was asleep.

  He crept past a few more teac
hers, before crouching behind the water cooler to consider his next move.

  Then he saw Miss Granger, curled up under the coffee table, sleeping soundly.

  Her position wasn’t ideal. There were three teachers sleeping between the water cooler and Miss Granger, and they were packed in like sardines. He couldn’t risk waking the other teachers up. He’d have to be creative.

  Justin reached into his pocket and pulled out three sultanas.

  His stomach rumbled in protest. It had been a long time since the sausage roll. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

  Justin took aim. If he was going to wake up a teacher with a flying sultana, he’d need deadly accuracy.

  The first sultana hit the clock on the wall.

  Never mind, thought Justin. That was just a practice shot.

  He held up the second sultana and threw it as hard as he could.

  It bounced off the water cooler and landed in Mr Atkins’ mouth.

  ‘Excellent tempo!’ cried Mr Atkins, licking his lips.

  Justin took a breath. One shot left. He lined it up, drew his hand back, and launched the sultana straight at Miss Granger’s forehead.

  Her eyes shot open.

  It was a direct hit.

  But before Justin could get her attention, the door to the staffroom swung open and Dr Featherstone strode in.

  Justin hastily flicked off his torch and scrambled behind the water cooler as Miss Granger rubbed her forehead, looking confused.

  Featherstone sat down at a table by the window, silhouetted against the moonlight.

  ‘Well, colleagues, time for our twelve o’clock staff meeting,’ he said softly. ‘The rules don’t specify which twelve o’clock, of course, so this meeting is now in session.’

  The staff snored on, oblivious.

  ‘These rather unusual circumstances have prompted me to fast-track an important decision. I was going to wait a little longer to announce this, but tonight’s given me something of an, ah, opportunity.’

  Justin stayed perfectly still. So did Miss Granger.

  ‘As you know, when I arrived here some years ago, I turned this school around. Many people disagreed with my methods. Some staff chose to quit. But the results speak for themselves – Mount Willow is currently ranked 9th in the local district basketball competition, and 17th in cricket.’

  He paused. In his sleep, Mr Atkins was busy conducting an imaginary orchestra.

  ‘And yet,’ continued Featherstone, ‘there is still room for improvement. So I’ve asked myself this question – what can we do better? How can we do better? And I think I’ve found the answer … more sport.’

  Justin shook his head. He failed to see how the school could find any more room for sport.

  ‘So tonight I’d like to announce an amendment to our school rules, which will see our remaining academic subjects – English, Mathematics and Science – each combined with a physical activity, to create the new subjects Spenglish, Sportmatics and Spience.’

  Justin’s mouth dropped open. Miss Granger’s did the same.

  ‘Why keep our children chained to their desks, when we could instead have them running, jumping and swimming their way through the curriculum? Which of these subjects would not be vastly improved by the addition of a ball, a net or a physical challenge? Of course, some may argue that our academic results will suffer – and they will – but if these changes give just one student a better chance of becoming an Olympian, it’s a small price to pay.’

  He paused, looking around him. There were no signs of movement.

  ‘Naturally, this bold new curriculum will require some major new building works. Which is why Derek Turner, from Turner & Sons Financial Planning, has kindly donated two million dollars to fund the construction of a brand new, state-of-the-art sporting facility – The Turner Centre for Sportelligence.’

  Justin couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  ‘As you know, I’m required to inform staff of any changes to the school rules, and provide blueprints for new building projects. But the rules don’t say you have to be awake when I tell you. So I’ll just pop these amendments and blueprints here for you to peruse in your own time.’

  Featherstone placed some sheets of paper face down on the table, then stared at them in silence. After a moment, he continued.

  ‘Please consider yourselves informed. I’ve already signed these amendments, so as per Rule 159, if there are no objections, these rules will become official when the bell goes.’

  He stood up and sighed. ‘This meeting is now concluded.’

  Featherstone began walking towards the door. Justin wanted to say something, but Miss Granger beat him to it.

  ‘I object.’

  Featherstone spun around to see her standing among a sea of still-snoring teachers.

  ‘Hello, Helen,’ he said quietly. ‘It seems not everyone was asleep.’

  ‘This has gone too far,’ she said firmly.

  Featherstone stepped towards her, his voice dropping to a whisper.

  ‘On the contrary. I fear we haven’t gone far enough.’

  ‘When will it end?’

  Featherstone’s shoulders slumped. ‘When Wade Turner fulfils his destiny.’

  ‘We can’t keep protecting him. It didn’t work for his brothers. What makes you think it’ll work for him?’

  Featherstone kept his voice low. ‘We have no choice. You were there in the beginning. You understand.’

  ‘I thought I did,’ said Miss Granger. ‘Now I don’t understand a thing. Do you know how miserable this school has become? I’m trying my best, but if you go ahead with this plan, some of these students won’t survive!’

  ‘Nor will this school,’ snapped Featherstone. ‘Not unless we see this through.’

  ‘Well, you’ll be seeing it through on your own. And you can find a new Maths teacher while you’re at it.’

  With this, Miss Granger marched towards the door, pushed past the principal, and slipped out of the staffroom.

  Featherstone watched her go, then slunk out of the staffroom in her wake.

  ‘We’ll play it once more from the top,’ Mr Atkins told his imaginary orchestra. ‘There’s something wrong with this tune.’

  Justin nodded in agreement.

  Outside, the quadrangle had taken on a sinister feel. Justin watched as an older student dashed frantically towards the toilet block, followed by three members of the Night Patrol. Then he rounded a corner and nearly tripped over a group of Year Nines looting the vending machine. They looked up at Justin in terror.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he whispered. ‘I’m not the army.’

  The students nodded, then scurried into the darkness, leaving shards of broken glass and chip packets littering the ground.

  Miss Granger was already in her car by the time Justin caught up to her. He tapped frantically on her window until she wound it down.

  ‘Justin? You should be at the bus.’

  ‘But the bus is gone!’ cried Justin, his voice echoing around the car park.

  ‘Keep it down!’ whispered Miss Granger. ‘What do you mean, the bus is gone?’

  ‘It’s not there anymore. You need to help me find it …’

  Miss Granger’s hands clenched the steering wheel as the engine idled. ‘I’m sorry, Justin. I don’t work here anymore.’

  ‘I know. I was in the staffroom.’

  Miss Granger looked concerned. ‘How much did you hear?’

  Justin leaned in closer. ‘Everything. I know about the principal’s plan.’

  ‘Well then, you’ll understand how important it is for you to find that bus again.’

  And before Justin could reply, Miss Granger put her foot on the accelerator and sped away.

  Eliza peered down at Justin from her tree.

  ‘So
let me get this straight. The principal’s a supervillain with an evil plan to take over the school with sport, Miss Granger’s quit her job, and there’s a secret bus full of friendly students which has mysteriously disappeared?’

  Justin stared up at her and nodded. His story, he realised, was becoming more unbelievable by the hour. From the look on her face, Eliza agreed.

  Justin offered up a packet of chips that he’d snatched from the vending machine. Eliza shook her head.

  ‘Justin, I think you need to get some rest.’

  She was right, of course – the night was starting to take its toll. Adrenaline was all well and good, but it was no substitute for food, sleep and warmth. Still, if he could just convince Eliza …

  ‘It’s all true. I promise. You need to help me—’

  ‘I tried to help you, remember? We did everything we could. We failed. So, like I said, I’m staying up this tree until they fix that stinking bell.’

  Justin shivered; he hadn’t realised how cold it had become. In the distance he heard a soccer ball hitting a piano. He wondered how many other kids, like Peter, were being trampled underfoot. He thought about the human pyramid – had those kids been allowed a toilet break?

  ‘What if the bell never goes?’ he mumbled, half to himself.

  ‘You heard the principal. They’ll fix it in the morning.’

  Justin sighed. He was sick of lying to his friend.

  ‘This is all my fault,’ he called up to her.

  ‘Hey – don’t be a loser. Nobody’s to blame.’

  Justin swallowed hard, then hung his head.

  ‘I broke the bell.’

  ‘Very funny.’

  ‘No, Eliza, I’m serious. I jammed it. To stop it from ringing.’

  The tree swayed ever so slightly. Eliza stared down at Justin.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I was worried I’d scare you away.’

  ‘So you trapped me here instead?’ she yelled.

  Justin hadn’t heard Eliza raise her voice before. His chest tightened.

  ‘I trapped everyone here. I didn’t want to go to detention. I didn’t want Wade to go home. And … I didn’t want you to leave.’

 

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