by , Sammy J;
Justin didn’t know how long he’d been asleep for.
He didn’t know why he’d been dreaming of the snowman from Frozen.
But he did know how many stairs were outside.
So when he woke up to the sound of the bell tower door crashing open, Justin was able to count the footsteps as they approached.
After two hundred and eight heavy, slow, angry stomps, he had a fairly good idea of who to expect.
Deodorant fumes seeped under the door before it was thrown open.
‘Lights up, loser,’ smirked Wade, shining his torch in Justin’s face. ‘Principal sent me to get you.’
Justin rubbed his eyes.
‘But first, I want to show you something,’ said Wade, holding out his hand.
Justin ignored The Smirk’s sweaty palm and pulled himself up. Wade gestured to the top of the stairs.
‘After you.’
Justin gripped the balustrade. His twisted ankle was still aching. He took one small step.
‘Hurry up or we’ll miss it.’
Justin sped up, hobbling up the staircase with Wade hot on his heels. His mind ran through the possible scenarios that awaited him, settling on the likelihood that Wade Turner was about to push him to his death from the top of the bell tower. This did, after all, feel like a fitting end to the past twenty-four hours. Justin tried to think of some cool last words. Words that would, if not save his life, at least haunt Wade Turner for the remainder of his. He settled on ‘checkmate’. It had a certain sad irony to it.
At last they reached the top of the tower. It was absolutely freezing, though Justin was relieved to see that the window was too small for anyone to fit through.
Wade stood at the window and beckoned Justin to join him.
‘Check it out,’ he said, pointing one of his grubby fingers out the window. Across the quadrangle, over the classrooms and beyond the town, a dazzling slice of orange light was peeking over the horizon.
‘Sunrise.’
Wade smiled. An actual smile this time.
‘What do ya reckon?’
Justin didn’t know what he reckoned.
‘Um … it’s nice?’
‘Just nice?’
Justin tried again. ‘It’s beautiful?’
‘Yeah. It is beautiful, isn’t it?’
They stood in silence.
‘But you know what would make it more beautiful?’
Justin shook his head.
‘This.’
All of a sudden, Justin felt weightless.
He looked down to see his feet rising off the ground.
Perhaps he was dreaming?
Perhaps he was dead?
Or perhaps – as turned out to be the case – Wade Turner had taken hold of his underpants and was attempting to give Justin one of the most brutal and prolonged wedgies in the history of Mount Willow.
‘SUNRISE SURPRISE!’ Wade yelled, as Justin’s legs dangled in the air. ‘GOLDEN WEDGIE! Didn’t think I’d get to do this ’til I was in Year Ten … this has been the greatest night of my life!’
Well, thought Justin bitterly, guess it was all worth it then.
Wade’s cackle echoed down the staircase.
‘Now, while we’re up here,’ Wade snarled into Justin’s ear, ‘let’s get somethin’ straight. If you ever mention my name to a teacher again, you’re gonna get a lot more than a wedgie. ’Cos if you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m a Turner. And that makes me the king. And you’re a – what was it called again?’
‘A pawn,’ replied Justin, still suspended in midair. ‘I’m just a pawn.’
And for the first time in his life, he actually believed it.
On the upside, his German wedgie-proof underpants were certainly doing their job. His buttocks were entirely unscathed.
Outside, the sound of the PA system cut through the air.
‘Would Justin Monaghetti please report to the principal’s office immediately.’
‘That’d be you, loser.’ Wade let go of Justin’s undies, sending him sprawling to the floor. Beside them, the clock’s gears sat silently. Justin spotted his pawn, jammed peacefully between two cogs, blissfully unaware of the turmoil it had unleashed.
He couldn’t grab it while Wade was watching.
Maybe he’d come all this way only to fail once more. It seemed like something he’d do.
Then he looked out the window and saw something strange.
There, in the orange glow of dawn, was a curious girl moving her desk slowly across the quadrangle towards the bell tower.
Which was quite odd, as he was fairly certain there hadn’t been a girl there only moments earlier.
And there definitely hadn’t been seven other students and desks slowly shuffling behind her.
The king isn’t really the most powerful piece on a chess board. Sure, the other pieces all have to protect it, but without them it can’t do much at all. So what’s the best piece? Well, that’s subjective. There’s the queen, who can move sideways and diagonally. Then there’s the knight, which can jump over other pieces. But any serious chess player knows that the most powerful piece on the board is the humble pawn. It may be the smallest piece, and it may only move one square at a time. But according to the rules of chess, if a pawn makes it all the way to the other side of the board, it can become any piece it wants. Which makes it almost invincible.
Wade wasn’t looking out the window. He was already stomping down the stairs.
‘Move it, big nose!’ called Wade. ‘Principal’s waiting.’
Justin hurried to catch up, teetering on his swollen ankle.
‘Before you go, Wade, I have to ask you something.’
‘What?’ Wade was nearly at the bottom of the staircase.
Justin steadied himself on the rail, took a breath, and yelled down at him.
‘The eight of us go forth, not back, to protect our king from a foe’s attack! What are we?’
His voice echoed loudly off the walls. Wade stared in confusion. ‘What the hell are you on about?’
From outside the door, eight voices responded.
‘PAWNS!’
With this, Eliza Burton kicked the bell tower door off its hinges.
Behind her, the Ultimate Chess Club – plus Peter – sat at their desks, completely surrounding the entrance.
Wade’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
‘Where’s Justin?’ asked Eliza.
Justin hobbled down the remaining stairs.
‘Right where I said I’d be,’ he said, grinning. ‘Just got a bit held up.’
Eliza glanced at Wade, then back to Justin. ‘Do you want me to punch him for you?’
‘Thanks for the offer,’ said Justin, ‘but we haven’t come this far to start breaking the rules now.’
‘What about breaking doors?’ Eliza looked sheepish.
Justin shrugged. ‘It was already broken.’
Wade, whose face had been growing redder by the second, finally exploded.
‘WHAT’S GOING ON? WHERE’S MY ARMY?’
‘Let me check,’ said Eliza, raising a walkie-talkie. ‘Eliza Burton to Night Patrol. Location please?’
A crackled voice replied. ‘By the bus, awaiting your instructions, captain.’
Wade shook his head. ‘But – but – you’re meant to be in custody!’ he stammered.
‘Oh, we were,’ said Eliza casually. ‘But then we got chatting to your army. Turns out they had no idea that they were entitled to breaks, food and water as part of their job.’
‘Not to mention medical cover,’ added Sally. ‘We’ve got three soldiers in sick bay suffering from deodorant exposure.’
Erik nodded. ‘As captain, Wade, you really should have looked after your troops a little better,’ he said, twiddling hi
s bow tie. ‘To avoid a … what did you call it again, Eliza?’
Eliza grinned. ‘Military coup.’
Wade wobbled slightly on his feet.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Erik. ‘If you plead guilty, I’m sure they’ll be lenient in sentencing.’
‘Who?’ grunted Wade.
‘The Night Patrol,’ said Denise sternly. ‘They’ve set up a military court on the bus, and they’re waiting to charge you.’
‘Charge me for what?’ Wade was trying to look confident, but Denise stared him down.
‘For abusing your power, bullying your troops, and ruining a three-year-old chess game.’
Justin smiled. The Ultimate Chess Club was nothing if not efficient.
‘Follow us, please,’ said Sally, gesturing to the door.
Wade didn’t budge, so Eliza raised her walkie-talkie again. ‘We’ll need reinforcements to the bell tower. Bring extra anti-perspirant. And please tell the Year Sevens they can all come and watch.’
‘Okay,’ Wade grunted, throwing his arms in the air. ‘I’ll come with ya. Just don’t let anyone see me.’
Eliza smiled and raised her radio. ‘Cancel that request.’
Louise and Gordon each grabbed one of Wade’s arms while Peter patted down his pockets.
Eliza turned to Justin. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. It wasn’t until I saw The True History of Mount Willow that I realised you were telling the truth.’
‘We did the full play in custody,’ said Louise, beaming.
‘I remembered all my lines,’ added Gordon.
‘And it wasn’t even set on a bus,’ said Erik proudly.
‘Then Eliza told us about The Turner Centre for Sportelligence,’ said Rob, grinning at Wade. ‘We reckon two million dollars is an outrageous expense in the current economic climate.’
Wade looked insulted. ‘It’s three million, not two million. My dad’s loaded. Reckons they’ll start building it next week.’
Justin thought for a moment. He was sure the principal had said two million.
‘Well, your dad can’t help you now,’ said Denise sternly. ‘Let’s get going.’
As he was marched away, Wade turned back to Justin and forced out a smirk.
‘See you in The Turner Centre, loser.’
‘MOVE IT ALONG!’ yelled Peter, flicking a bit of soggy chocolate cake at Wade’s face.
Justin noticed the sky getting lighter. ‘We need to act fast.’
Eliza nodded. ‘How long until the bell goes?’
Justin proudly held up his lucky pawn.
‘Sixteen minutes and counting,’ he said, as the clock ticked high above them.
Featherstone looked limper than the dead pot plant. Half-drunk cups of coffee peppered his office desk. He pressed a phone to his ear.
‘Well, Mr Turner, as I have always said, I can’t promise that Wade will win an Olympic gold medal, but we will of course do everything we can to maximise his chances of success … Yes, I’m aware that your son is destined for greatness … Of course, I’m exceptionally grateful for your donation … construction will begin as soon as the funds come through. Of course. Thank you, as ever. The Mount Willow school community is indebted to you.’
Featherstone put the phone down, slumped in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He looked up to find Justin standing in front of him.
‘You wanted to see me, Sir?’
A thin smile spread across Featherstone’s lips.
‘Justin Monaghetti. I’ve been hearing quite a few stories about you. Please, take a seat.’
‘No thanks. I’m happy standing.’ He wasn’t, but it felt good saying it. Featherstone raised an eyebrow and leaned forward.
‘I’m told you’ve evaded capture, damaged the roof of the music department, and entered the bell tower without permission. To tell the truth, I’ve never seen anyone break so many rules in one day. If we don’t stamp out this behaviour, who knows what could happen?’
Justin said nothing.
‘But Justin, I’m not a cruel man. I believe everybody deserves a second chance. So, after careful consideration, I’ve decided to limit your punishment to just one detention. How does that sound?’
Justin tilted his head. It didn’t sound good, of course, but it certainly could have been worse.
Featherstone smiled. ‘Have you still got your detention slip on you?’
Justin reached into his pocket and handed over his soggy, crumpled yellow slip.
Featherstone raised his pen and began writing on it. ‘I’ll just add those new offences. And I might change the time, too – I’m sure you won’t feel like going to detention straight after the night you’ve had. Perhaps I’ll schedule it for … hmm … Wednesday, after school.’
Justin frowned. He didn’t like where this was heading.
‘But, Sir, that’s when activities happen.’
Featherstone feigned surprise. ‘Really? Oh my. Well, we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it, eh?’
He handed the detention slip back to Justin.
Justin snatched it from his fingers, marched across the room and fed it straight into the shredder.
He wasn’t in the mood for eternal detention. He was in the mood for answers.
He turned and stared straight at the principal.
‘Sir, are you aware that Rule 148 (b) of the Mount Willow Handbook forbids staff from taking bribes?’
Featherstone looked from the shredder back to Justin.
‘What on earth are you talking about?’
Justin stepped forward. ‘I know about The Turner Centre for Sportelligence.’
Featherstone scoffed. ‘Hardly bribery. It’s common practice to name a new building after the donor.’
‘But you told the teachers it was costing two million dollars. And Wade Turner’s dad is giving you three million.’
Featherstone stiffened. ‘Well, we need to keep some aside for, ah, unforeseen expenses … besides, you should be thanking me for improving our facilities. I’m simply upholding the vision of our founders – Sport Before Thought.’
‘Really?’ said Justin. ‘I thought the real motto was Brain Before Brawn?’
Featherstone jumped to his feet. ‘Who – I mean, where did you read that?’
‘You can’t erase history, Sir.’
A thin line of sweat appeared above Featherstone’s top lip. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he snapped.
‘Really?’ said Justin. ‘Does the name “Brad Hestor” ring a bell?’
Featherstone’s eyes narrowed. He placed his palms flat on the desk and leaned towards Justin. ‘What have you heard?’
‘I heard you nearly poisoned him.’
‘Nonsense. Anyone could have put those biscuits in his gym bag.’
Justin crossed his arms and smiled.
‘But, Sir – how did you know they were in his gym bag?’
Featherstone stared blankly at Justin. His bottom lip began to quiver.
After ten years of successful evasion, he’d just accidentally confessed his crime to a twelve-year-old boy.
There was nowhere left to hide.
‘I didn’t have a choice,’ he whispered. ‘He forced me.’
Featherstone sunk into his chair. Justin sat down opposite him. ‘Who forced you?’
‘Mr Turner. He wanted his son to be the best footballer at school. So when Brad Hestor beat Scott at training, Turner made me an offer. He said he’d pay for a new gymnasium if I removed Brad from the team. I found Brad’s enrolment form, saw he had an allergy, and …’
‘Nearly killed him?’
‘No!’ Featherstone shook his head furiously. ‘I didn’t know he’d eat the whole packet! I just needed him to miss one training session, so I could begin the … ah … eternal detention.’
By now, a light film of sweat was covering Featherstone’s face. ‘I’d never been a principal before, Justin! I was terrified. What if I was no good? Derek Turner offered me the chance to make an impression – so long as I agreed to protect his sons in return. How was I to know they’d all turn out to be talentless little monsters?’
‘Then why don’t you just stop taking the money?’
‘If only it were that simple! But don’t you see? The school has blossomed! A new pool, a new tennis court – every cent donated by the Turners has gone towards making Mount Willow great again.’
Justin paused. ‘Maybe you would have been a good principal anyway? Rather than letting them change you?’
‘Change me? Nonsense! I’m the same man I always was.’
Justin stood up and leaned across the desk. ‘So where’s the extra million dollars going?’
Featherstone gulped, then lowered his head. ‘Into my bank account.’
Mr Douglas, the first principal of Mount Willow Secondary, never stole any money from the school. Which is surprising, since his parents were bushrangers. After his father went to jail for robbing a bank while riding an emu, his mother raised him with a love of music and poetry. Occasionally the young boy would catch her playing piano late at night, looking towards the mountain as a tear rolled down her cheek.
The groggy teachers peered at the principal as he walked into the staffroom, flanked by Justin Monaghetti. Eliza was waiting by the water cooler.
‘I was just reading your new rules to the teachers,’ she said, holding up his signed sheet of paper.
Featherstone’s eyes darted nervously around the room. His staff stared back at him.
‘But I’m pleased to say,’ continued Eliza, ‘that there are no objections whatsoever.’
‘That’s right,’ said Mr Atkins enthusiastically. ‘In fact, we think these changes are long overdue.’
The other teachers nodded their agreement.
Featherstone looked dizzy with relief.