The Conspiracy Theory of June 17

by Alessia Holmes

  The Conspiracy Theory of June 17

  ALESSIA HOLMES

  Copyright © 2019 Alessia Holmes

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-7068-7691-5

  DEDICATION

  To my lovely family for inspiring me to write, and the real Conspiracy Stoppers Club for inspiring me to write this one.

  Prologue

  "I'm telling you guys," Lucy whined. "It's true! As crazy as it sounds...”

  "Look honey, it's getting late. Why don't you get some sleep and we'll consider it in the morning, okay?" David chuckled. His daughter's wild imagination always amused him. She must've got it from her mother, he thought.

  "But wait! There was this old man, and two middle aged ones, who told me-"

  "Lucy," Amanda cleared her throat. Unlike her husband, she did not find the situation amusing. She had a weird feeling that this just wasn't Lucy's imagination running wild. There was something about the way she talked, the way her face just held a look of sheer terror, that even her daughter, the budding actress, couldn't fake. Plus, what she said sounded eerily familiar. She needed to figure out what she meant.

  "Go upstairs to your room."

  "But-"

  "Now."

  Lucy let out an exasperated sigh, feeling defeated, and trudged upstairs. Unbeknownst to Lucy, her mother followed close behind, leaving her clueless father still smirking in his seat.

  He would stay clueless forever.

  1.

  "Hello and happy Thursday!"

  Mrs Mitzeegh is the best teacher on the planet. It's as simple as that.

  Usually I don't say someone, or something is the best in the world, because there's no logical way of proving that, but in this case I'm sure. You can try and find me another teacher like her, but I promise you it's not going to be easy.

  Find me another MATHS teacher like her, and... well, you never will.

  My friend Jessie turns to me and says, "Mrs Mitzeegh really is amazing, isn't she?"

  "Yeah," I beam, "She's the best."

  We both turn to Jada. Us three, we're the #curryclub. Yes, cringe all you want, but it’s one of those things we thought of spontaneously, and it stuck. Hashtag curry club. See, it makes sense - we're all South Asian and we love curry, unabashedly accurate to the stereotype. It summed us up perfectly.

  There's Jessie, the super smart, funny and happy-go-lucky girl. She comes from the planet named 'chill' and can somehow make all your first world problems seem miniscule. Then there's Jada – quirky, cool, and, while sweet, has enough sass to take down an entire hoard of entitled girls (not that she does on a daily basis, though she probably wouldn't mind giving it a shot).

  And then there's me. I'd like to think I'm caring, sensitive and somewhat an over analyser, and I'm probably what most people would call the 'serious' one. Unlike my friends, I do not come from Zen land and, though I can be blunt at times, I was not born ready to rule the world. But hey, I'm working on it.

  Jada was intensely concentrated on her iPad, but after noticing us staring at her, wanting her to comment, she finally replies with -

  "Huh?"

  Jessie rolls her eyes, "Typical Jada." She raises her eyebrows and cocks her head, "Probably texting someone she knows VERY well..."

  "Hey, I heard that!"

  "Okay, settle down class..." Mrs Mitzeegh climbs out of her chair, still smiling despite the apparent chaos in the classroom.

  " I was playing Soda Crush, ok!" Jada exclaims, half giggling and desperately flicking her brightness up and turning her screen all the way in our direction.

  At this point in time, none of us were listening to Mrs Mitzeegh, which we probably should have been, considering she had already told us to be quiet. But she didn't have to wait too long, because suddenly she says something that gets the whole class's attention.

  "... I have some bad news. Unfortunately, I will be leaving school and going back to Scotland next week..."

  We all freeze and stare at her in shock and horror, and then at each other, because of two reasons;

  a) Mrs Mitzeegh can't leave. She's the best and another teacher for Maths just won't do.

  b) Our old English and Humanities teacher, Mrs Butch, left the same time last year to the same place - Scotland. Coincidence? I think not.

  Ok, so perhaps Jessie and Jada weren't thinking about the second reason at that point in time, that was just me. Seriously though, lately I've been really into conspiracy theories, and reading too much about them has really heightened my imagination and taken it to the next level. Now whenever something's remotely suspicious, I tend to make a conspiracy theory out of it, linking it to THE most random occurrences. It's just my idea of fun. Don't worry, everyone who knows me is pretty much used to it by now, and most likely you will be too.

  As soon as the class erupts into mayhem again, I ask my fellow club members "Hey guys, remember Mrs Butch?"

  "Yeah, yeah, who could forget? Wait." Jessie twists around in her chair. "Didn't she leave at around this time last year too?"

  "Not just at the same time, but to the same place." I wave my pen to emphasise my sayings. I have a small voice, so I always try to project my ideas differently, which usually makes me look like I'm having a quiet fit. "Which means there's something here we don't know about. Something bigger."

  Jada chuckles, "Yeah, they're totally planning to meet up at Scotland. I bet they're part of some teacher organisation, to like, fight evil or something."

  "Mhmm," Jessie nods, then laughs.

  It's nothing but a coincidence, I tell myself, as I become eager to find out the real reason she's leaving. Sensing our sudden disappointment, Mrs Mitzeegh adds, "I'd love to stay if I could, but my partner's visa is running out, so I have to go to Scotland with him. There's nothing I can do now, sorry." She's still smiling, but her voice is losing some of its usual enthusiasm.

  The talking in the classroom quickly dies down to a low grumble, which is pretty strange for us. As much as we were chatty, loud, and quite frankly, annoying, there wasn't a single person in the room who didn't love and respect Mrs Mitzeegh as a teacher, and as a human being.

  Then, a guy in the back row puts his hand up and says,

  "Miss, why don't you just break up with him?"

  Meet Damon. He's the kind of guy who's ‘medium’ good at everything – gets good grades, not one of the super popular kids, but not quite fundamentally nerdy like the rest of us. He's good at sport too, something that not many kids in the room can relate to, being the extension maths class. I don't know much about him, other than the fact that he cracks mediocre jokes, and probably has never owned a ruler in his entire life (Forgive me, that's on the several bases that he's asked me for my ruler).

  Next to him, Flynn laughs loudly. I've also never talked to him before, but he's a family friend of Jessie and Jada's, and in half of my classes, so his face is somewhat familiar. I'm assuming personality-wise he’s like Damon too, seeing as they're always together in class and always gang up in their annoying, mediocre-joke cracking practices. It's somewhat bizarre– they don't really look that compatible, but lately they've been hanging out like old friends.

  Things have been weird lately. But then again, my over-analysing usually gets worse over time.

  Despite the news, the maths lesson proceeds pretty much as usual, with Mrs Mitzeegh at the front explaining Pythagoras' Theorem, Flynn making some random jokes to make it all awkward, Damon low-key planning to murder Mrs Mitzeegh's partner, and us three kind-of-not really doing maths exercises and paying attention. It's only been a couple of minutes, but we're already planning our gifts and cards to make her departure more bearable.

  "Do you think we
should give her jewellery?" Jada asks, squinting at her closely. "Yeah, she looks like a jewellery person."

  "Or maybe...a stationery person..."

  But before I can finish, completely out of the blue Jessie jumps in her seat. "Guys!" she exclaims, her eyes wide.

  Before we can ask her if she needs help or not, she starts talking. "So, the other day, my sister had a substitute teacher - and his name was MR BUTCH!"

  Jada and I gasp at the same time. "That's so weird," I tell her.

  Then something clicks into my mind. "Isn't your sister’s school, Gregdale Forest State School?"

  "Yeah." She nods, frowning.

  "We have a Greg in our class!"

  This time we all laugh.

  "But seriously, weird things have been happening lately," Jada says, "I mean, isn't it weird that whenever Ms Katarina is away, we always have that crazy substitute teacher, Mr McDonald? Who also happens to be my English teacher's husband?"

  "Really? That is weird, but what do you make of this - Mrs Mitzeegh and Ms Katarina are leaving on the exact same day! Friday!" I blurt out.

  Jada hoffs, "Well, I didn't know if you noticed but, that IS the last day of the week..."

  "WAIT! I've got a good one!" Jessie almost falls over her chair in excitement.

  "Damon and Flynn have ALL their classes together, and are always together, even though they've never been friends?" She practically yells, her eyes the size of saucers.

  We all pause, frowning at each other in mock concern, and then burst out laughing once again.

  And it was all downhill from there. You see at first, we were blurting out all the weird and random things that were happening - we didn't mean for it to spiral into such craziness. What seemed like a silly conversation about how 'strange' things were, ended up becoming this huge web of events, of strange occurrences, a conspiracy, if you say so. In it were so many connections, possibilities, and theories, all leading us to believe there was something bigger we were unaware of. Perhaps a secret organisation, or some sort of cult? Students as assassins, or spies?

  Yes, it's sounds serious when you explain it, but we were just having fun with the whole thing, as if discussing the plot of a movie or a novel. And by the end we'd laughed so hard our sides hurt and we were left gasping for air.

  I'll admit, it looked odd to the others and especially Mrs Mitzeegh, who might've thought we weren't taking her sudden leave seriously. I know it kind of seems that way, laughing our heads off, but bear with me – it's a legitimate way of dealing with shock and sadness. Besides. our class was a little mad in nature, so we didn't stick out that much anyway (I mean, Damon was still shamelessly plotting that murder).

  Packing up and leaving was the actual sad part, I will admit. I didn't have the words nor the courage to tell Mrs Mitzeegh anything, and decided to think about it and save it for next Friday.

  Nevertheless, our 'conspiracy' was still buzzing around in my mind, though, and I was still a little curious. So, I asked, well, kind of dared Jessie to mention Mrs Butch to Mrs Mitzeegh.

  What surprises me is that before we ducked out of that tiny door, she actually says it, and with complete coolness in her voice.

  "Hey Mrs Mitzeegh, do you know a Mrs Butch? She was a teacher here, she was actually our teacher, but she left at around this time as well and she was Scottish."

  Mrs Mitzeegh frowns a little and shakes her head. I look down to hide the fact that I'm forcing myself not to laugh and I can see Jada doing the same, perhaps a little less subtly.

  "No, I don't actually. But Scotland's a great place. Did you know that their national animal is the Unicorn?" She adds, smiling sweetly.

  "Really? No way!" Jada exclaims.

  "Yeah, it's got a very rich culture as well. But no, I don't know this Mrs Butch."

  We all giggle audibly this time. "Thanks, Mrs Mitzeegh."

  She nods and walks back to her desk, still smiling, leaving us to giggle our way to our next class in typical #curryclub style.

  2.

  The loud cacophony of voices is the first thing that hits me as I walk into the classroom. Boys are throwing things everywhere, jumping and yelling. The girls are walking around, either snapchatting, texting, talking or spraying excessive amounts of Victoria’s Secret body mist. And right in the corner, as if immune to the chaos in the whole classroom, sits Miss Katarina. Her eyebrows are furrowed as she stares at her laptop screen, utterly confused and frustrated.

  Welcome to our History classroom.

  I try not to get knocked over as I make my way to my seat. Because of the idiotic boys in our class who apparently don't care whether they fail or not (and, for that matter, whether anyone else fails or not), our teacher put us all in a seating plan. Except it kind of backfired. She should have thought - if three boys don't listen to the teacher, what are the chances that they'll follow a piece of paper tacked to the back of the classroom door and sit in the middle of two girls to 'take charge of their own learning'? So eventually, those three boys somehow ended up together, leaving the rest of us in random places around the classroom, because now no one wants to move.

  It doesn't really matter to me. It's only one class, and Jada is relatively close-by anyway.

  It especially doesn't matter this lesson because today is the last day to hand in our assessment.

  Ah, so that's why everyone's running in and out the classroom...

  Me, being forever distrustful of school printers (and rightfully so!) finished my assignment, printed it and put it in my bag all last night. Now, I have the noble task of bringing everyone staplers and bulldog clips.

  And, as if right on cue, that’s when Marianne barges through the door and heads my way.

  "Hey hey Alessia, do you have a stapler?" Marianne's glasses lie low on her nose as she glances at me. She looks super worried as her eyes dart around at everyone's desk frantically, trying to find that thing that everyone desperately needs during assessment time, but no one really has.

  That's also weird.

  Okay stop. Answer her question.

  "No, sorry," I tell her, my eyes searching the classroom for one. "Maybe Miss K has one?"

  "Actually, don't worry, I got one," she says, snatching one off a girl's desk before anyone else can grab it. She looks at my desk, then says, "Do you want to go together to hand in our assignments?"

  I look down at my desk. My World War 1 essay stares back at me. Wow, Alessia. Smart. You didn't even hand it in.

  "Yeah sure," I say, smiling.

  She comes and sits in the empty chair next to me. I can sense her anxiety. I can suddenly feel it in the air, like it's hanging around her in a dark cloud. I quickly look away, thinking of something smart and comforting to say.

  I decide to stick with something that's safe but slightly reassuring. Besides, her essay actually looks pretty good. So, I tell her,

  "Don't worry, you're going to do well."

  She looks at me and sighs. "I don't even know anymore," she tells me. "I really want to get an A, even an A- will do. But just, no Bs please." Her face breaks into a smile at that last remark.

  We both chuckle. "Same, girl, same." I want to say more, but sometimes, silence is golden.

  We go to the front of the classroom to Miss Katarina's desk, and find that a lot of people (correction: half the class) are lined up in front of her, probably all looking for some last-minute help.

  "Yes, that's fine. Don't worry about that...Robert, you should've thought of that ages ago. Don't come to me the day it's due...Leo, stop throwing things...Carrie, go tell the ladies at the desk that I sent you...Liz, here's my printing ID...Shayleigh, here are the keys to my car..."

  Ok, so she didn't say that last thing. But she was going a million miles per hour, talking to everyone all at the same time. I kind of felt sorry for her at times. At a glance, she looked uptight and intimidating. But once she warmed up to you...well, she was actually pretty nice and would probably sell a kidney to help you. But it seemed like no one ever app
reciated her, no one in our crazy class anyway.

  The thing about Miss Katarina is that she has the personality of a teenage boy. No seriously, she talks about things ranging from Assassin’s Creed to Youtubers and how much she hates terrible horror movies – not to stereotype, but pretty much exactly like a teenage boy would. Not to mention, her extensive knowledge on serial killers is so good, it's actually kind of…creepy.

  Admittedly, Jada and I have made up of a sort of a conspiracy theory (yes, this is a recurring theme in our lives) involving her and her knowledge of serial killers. We think - no, theorise - that she might actually be related to a murderer, or maybe she even was one (okay, that's a bit of a stretch), but she's becoming a teacher so she learns how to socialise as a form of rehab. Here's the evidence: she's rarely here - most of the time she's only here 2 times out of three every week, and she always blames it on injury and illness. And more importantly, she pauses at weird parts when she's going through slideshows in class, like at the death tolls or on the weaponry slides when we were studying World War II. Once, she stopped, paused, looked us ALL in the eye, and asked us what a better weapon was – a gun, or a knife. And then, proceeded to explain which one she thought was the better one.