School Rules Are Optional Read online

  The only one not really playing around in the water is Braden. He’s standing on the riverbank, looking worried. Alex and I yell at him from the waterslide. He comes over but says he doesn’t feel like jumping around in the toilet water. Maybe this kind of thing happened all the time at his old school.

  Mrs Leeman grabs her phone and calls the office. Then she calls another number and asks for the police! She must think the toilet block is a crime scene, so it should be interesting when the police turn up and tell her it isn’t.

  Mr Wilson comes down to the breezeway and politely asks everyone to get out of the water. None of us pay much attention to him when a pipe hasn’t exploded and none of us pay much attention to him now. I can’t see Mrs Overbeek at all. This must be the kind of job she lets Mr Wilson handle because she doesn’t want to do it herself.

  Jun pokes his head out of the library window that backs onto the courtyard and watches all the twigs and leaves and wrappers float past. Occasionally he reaches out to grab something out of the river. He doesn’t seem to be interested in where the water’s coming from, only what’s in it.

  Two police cars and an SES truck arrive and everyone is yelling to be heard above the sound of the water. Mr S turns up with Ian, and they both start bossing everyone around immediately. It’s so funny … they use exactly the same expressions: ‘Hurry it up!’, ‘Hop to it!’ and ‘Don’t muck around!’ Ian must go to the same university that Mr S went to, fifty years ago.

  ‘I want the Preps to Grade 3s here in pairs! Hop to it! Hurry up!’ Mr S says to all the little kids. Then to us he says, ‘Grades 4, 5 and 6 need to line up by the retaining wall. Don’t muck around! You know the drill!’ Ian doesn’t say ‘you know the drill’ because he’s new and doesn’t know whether we know the drill or not. A policewoman is telling some kids who are jumping off the retaining wall it’s time to stop jumping off it and line up on the oval.

  It takes a bit of persuasion to get some of the kids out of the water. Everyone has gone a bit wild and the noise is unbelievable. Maybe someone should tell the cop how boring school usually is and she might let us jump around in it a bit longer.

  Mrs Leeman is busy telling the cop in charge what to do and he has a gun on his belt.

  Down on the oval, it’s almost as wet as the breezeway. You can’t see much grass anymore and there’s a big lake starting around the goalposts. Kids start climbing up the posts and splashing down into the mud, which is already knee-deep. Some ducks are heading across from the park looking really interested.

  ‘Hey, Alex,’ I say, ‘do you think your dad’ll be here soon to study the groundwater? There’s a lot of water on the ground.’

  Alex starts laughing and says, ‘No, he’ll be here tomorrow. When the water’s underground.’

  We’re laughing so much Ms Kendall has to come over and tell us to settle down.

  I don’t know why it’s so funny anyway … it’s water.

  Everyone’s meant to be ticked off the roll then stand in a straight line, but it’s total chaos. The policewoman is trying to keep us down on the oval. She says, ‘Everyone needs to find their teacher and stay with their class group.’

  For some reason we all find this instruction really funny. We all wander around saying, ‘Are you in my group?’ and laughing until a guy in orange overalls with ‘SES’ written on the back comes over and says if we don’t form seven neat lines in five seconds we’ll all be staying back an hour for every minute we muck around.

  Ms Kendall has to count our class as well as her own because Mrs Leeman is too busy telling emergency workers what to do. Two kids from our grade are not in the lining-up area. Alex and I volunteer to grab Jun, who is still in the library. The other person missing is Minha.

  The policewoman comes over to our class. ‘All right, everyone. We need to know where Minha is. Who’s friends with Minha? Hands up.’

  Our eyes follow the line of ducks from the oval, through the school grounds to the park across the road. Minha is standing on the footpath supervising them on the zebra crossing. She’s letting them cross the road in little groups. None of the ducks are mucking around or waddling off.

  They’re better behaved than we are.

  Mr Winsock has to put the orange flags out on the crossing before Minha can be persuaded to leave them and join the rest of the class.

  While this is going on, Miss Agostino has gone into a panic because two Preps are missing from her class. No one has seen them since the bell went for lunch. The SES guy goes back to the breezeway and joins the others. We’re too far away to hear what anyone is saying although I notice Mrs Leeman is looking upset instead of her usual thing of making other people look upset. No one’s allowed to move or get a drink or go to the toilet, so all of a sudden we all need to go to the toilet and feel a bit thirsty.

  A few more police cars and state emergency trucks arrive. It must be a slow disaster day if they’re all turning up here. Then an ambulance comes around the corner and drives right into the school grounds and pulls up in front of the ‘Strictly No Parking’ sign even though there are spaces everywhere. Two officers climb out and join the others to get instructions from Mrs Leeman.

  Suddenly the water noise stops, and the fountain drops down like magic. It’s so quiet my ears are humming. A couple of SES workers head straight into the girls’ bathroom and come out again almost immediately with one soaking, crying Prep each. Mrs Leeman runs forwards and hugs them – a sight the whole school finds more astounding than anything else we’ve witnessed so far.

  The ambulance officers take the Preps, wrap them in stuff that looks like silver foil and make them lie on little trolleys. They must be okay though because the ambulance takes them and Miss Agostino away without lights or sirens or anything.

  As soon as the ambulance leaves, Mrs Leeman comes down and announces now is a good time for us to be given a Prep to look after. She wants us to keep them away from the water. She says there isn’t time to pull names out of a hat. She’s going to call out a Grade 6 name and the name of a Prep.

  I get a kid called Thomas Moore. He comes over to me and says, ‘I’m Thomas Moore’ which is totally unnecessary because I was told that about three seconds ago. But he doesn’t stop there.

  ‘I can count to a hundred,’ he says. ‘And I can read and spell, and I have a boat in my room and a dog and two sisters and if I eat macaroni cheese I throw up … and I can count to a hundred.’

  He’s annoying me already.

  ‘Huong and Amy are twins,’ he announces to no one in particular.

  Alex is given a Prep who is staring at the water with his eyes as big as frisbees. Alex is being really nice to him, saying, ‘Don’t worry … it’ll be okay.’ His Prep is nodding and sniffing, letting Alex hold his hand. It’s making me feel a bit guilty because I’m seriously thinking about swapping Thomas Moore for a different Prep.

  While we wait to be collected early from school by our parents, we’re allowed to watch from about two hundred kilometres away. I wonder if any of the TV stations will turn up to do a news story.

  The water people are talking about the crack in the pipe. ‘It’s as old as Adam,’ one of them says. ‘We’re going to have to dig the whole section out – past the blockage and out to the mains.’

  If they have to dig up all the plumbing, maybe they’ll uncover my missing jumper. Whoever took it could have buried it. It’s not as if they can wear it. Besides, it’s got my name on it.

  ‘My mum is a nurse and a doctor,’ Thomas Moore is saying, ‘and my dad has a jacket like that one.’ He points to the SES guy. Lots of kids are looking at me because he’s my Prep and he’s annoying everyone.

  ‘Huong and Amy are my best friends,’ he says.

  Mr Wilson stands up on a plastic chair and tries to get everyone’s attention. ‘I … uhhh … have some very important announcements from Miss Creighton,’ he says. I wonder if she’s looked up and noticed the office is flooded yet. No one can hear what Mr Wilson is saying becau
se the chair he’s standing on is sinking into the mud. The SES guy takes over and reads out the messages, which are not important at all, but a list of kids who have to go home with someone else because their parents can’t get away from work.

  ‘And the after-school care kids have to meet in the gym!’ the SES guy says. ‘I’m guessing you know who you are?’ After hearing this last instruction, Thomas Moore races off across the oval, making the ducks fly a couple of metres out of his way then settle down again on their puddles. I have no idea whether Thomas Moore’s in after-school care or not. I do know Mrs Leeman said we have to stay with our Prep until they’re collected. I squelch through the mud after him, towards the gym. Inside, about twenty kids from different grades are sliding around in their socks on the muddy wooden floor. An after-school care worker seems relieved to see Thomas Moore and I’m relieved to hand him over.

  By the time I get back to the oval, Alex has already gone and Jun is waving at his grandparents who are looking for a dry spot to park.

  ‘Jesse! Alex said, “see you later”,’ Jun says to me, carrying his private collection of interesting twigs and leaves towards the car.

  I have to go home with Braden, which is ridiculous because I live about ten minutes away and so does he. Braden’s dad signs us out like we’re in kindergarten. The back seat of his car is covered with sand even though we are nowhere near the beach. It all sticks onto my wet, muddy clothes. It should be me complaining, not Braden’s dad going on about the smell in his car.

  Braden and I hang around for a bit at his place then decide to walk back up to the school to look at the water situation. He’s a bit reluctant to return. He still seems worried about the broken pipe for some reason. On the way there he says, ‘How much is it gonna cost to fix it, do you reckon? Five thousand dollars? Ten thousand?’

  I don’t know why he’s so worried. He only just started at Westmoore. I’ve been here since Prep and I’m hoping they’ll have to close it down.

  When we get there, the emergency people are gone. The toilet block is taped off with blue and white chequered tape like on TV. I’ve always wanted to go under some blue and white chequered tape.

  Braden’s already wading towards it when I hear a bunch of kids laughing behind me. The after-school care kids are on the adventure playground, which looks a bit more adventurous now that it’s partially under water. I head back in that direction, hoping the after-school care snacks have been left unattended.

  When I get to the climbing wall, though, I see what the kids are laughing at.

  I should’ve gone with Braden.

  Thomas Moore is hanging upside-down on the climbing wall. One leg of his school pants is stuck around a foothold. He’s trying to pull himself up, but he can’t do it without pulling his pants down. A couple of big kids I’ve never seen before are laughing and urging him to leave his pants on the wall and go for a swim. A few little kids are standing around not really doing anything.

  I can’t see any supervisor. I can’t see Braden. I can’t see anyone I know.

  The big kids start splashing water up from the ground. ‘Uh-oh … ship’s sinking …’

  I feel sick all of a sudden and try to ignore the wobbly feeling in my legs urging me to do something that will probably result in me hanging upside-down on the climbing wall as well.

  I paddle towards the wall. It’s a bit tricky grabbing Thomas Moore around the waist and untangling his foot in knee-deep water. As soon as he’s around the right way he says to me, ‘Why did you do that? You wrecked it … I can climb right over the wall.’

  He kicks the wall and runs off back towards the gym, yelling, ‘I want honey and vegemite in my sandwich and I’m going in the ambulance with Huong and Amy … and three cups of milo.’

  The big kids have disappeared. Everyone’s disappeared.

  I wouldn’t mind a sandwich.

  When I get to the gym, I’m surprised to see Ian helping the after-school care workers set up the snack table. He must think he has to volunteer for everything. I stand in the line behind some other kids – Ian might not know I’m not entitled to a sandwich.

  When I get to the front of the line, though, he gives me two sandwiches. He says, ‘I heard what you did at the climbing wall, Jesse. Good work, bro.’

  Bro? Ian talks like a guy in a movie and acts like he’s known you for years when he’s only just met you. Also, he reminds me of someone, but I can’t think who. He calls to Thomas Moore, who is walking around in circles and staring up at the ceiling for some reason.

  ‘Hey, Thomas,’ Ian says. ‘What do you have to say to Jesse?’

  ‘He’s my buddy,’ Thomas Moore says, looking at me.

  ‘… And?’

  ‘And I have to show him around the school for a year,’ he says, spinning around and flapping his arms in the air.

  ‘Don’t you have something else to say?’ Ian asks. ‘Something important?’

  Thomas Moore says, ‘I’m a helicopter’ and twirls away, back towards the door.

  I’m starting to regret coming over for a sandwich. This is worse than the climbing wall.

  A week after the water pipe explosion, Mrs Leeman makes us all sit on the floor because she has some ‘exciting announcements’. Every Friday until the end of term, one of us will volunteer to spend the morning doing Environmental Duty. She must find really boring things exciting because everyone knows Environmental Duty is actually picking up rubbish in the playground using a stick with a claw on the end of it. We know because we did it last year, but Mrs Leeman wouldn’t know that because she usually has the Preps and they don’t have to do anything. She’s already drawn up a roster and says we have to write our name in one of the spaces before the end of the day. Anyone who doesn’t put their name down will have to do Environmental Duty when she says.

  Someone should really explain to her what ‘volunteer’ means. Environmental Duty is child labour and probably against Education Department rules, but anything is better than sitting in the classroom with her, so I don’t mind doing it. Also, you get a free icy pole or a lamington when you hand in your bag full of rubbish.

  Jun leans over to me and whispers, ‘I’m going to put my name down for every Friday.’ He means it, too. He’s got a big noticeboard in his room with the wrapper from every lolly he’s ever eaten and quite a few he hasn’t. It looks pretty good. Sometimes he buys something for the wrapper and no other reason. He doesn’t even like chocolate, which works out well for me.

  I’m wondering whether I want to do Environmental Duty with Alex or Jun when Mrs Leeman explains we’re going to be paired up with someone from the other Grade 6 class.

  Apparently, that’s the exciting bit.

  The second announcement is even more boring. After lunch, we have to collect our Prep buddy and line up with them against the fence so they can watch the delivery of four portable toilets for the girls to use while the main water pipe is being replaced.

  Even Thomas Moore has little to say about this totally uninteresting event. He declines the council worker’s invitation to stand on the truck’s hydraulic lifting platform and asks me, ‘Who wants to go on a lift for toilets?’ and I agree with him.

  After school, I write my name on the Environmental Duty roster somewhere in the middle. The trick is to look willing, but not too enthusiastic. I see most of the spaces are filled already.

  The sign-up sheet must have been a way for Mrs Leeman to gauge how excited we are about picking up other kids’ rubbish because the next day it’s gone and has been replaced with one she’s composed herself. All the names have been swapped around. I’m third on the list now. Jun’s name is last. I should have guessed it was a trick. Mrs Leeman feels the same way about free will as she does air conditioning: it’s there but you’re not allowed to use it.

  Over the next couple of weeks, we either do boring stuff in class with Mrs Leeman or slightly less boring stuff with our buddies and Miss Agostino. So far this week, Thomas Moore’s mum has been a cake decorat
or, an electrician, a crossing supervisor, an astronaut and a pirate.

  ‘A pirate?’ Alex laughs. ‘Does she sail the high seas? And wear an eye patch?’

  ‘She sails the high seas and the low seas,’ Thomas Moore says. ‘She sails all of them.’

  ‘Pirates don’t really wear eye patches,’ Jun says. ‘That’s only in the movies. Pirates are like normal robbers … at sea.’

  For a minute I think about asking Jun if he wants to swap his Prep buddy for Thomas Moore, then I decide against it. His buddy and Minha’s buddy are the twins that got rescued out of the girls’ toilets when the pipe exploded. Every five minutes they run off and disappear. Minha goes into a panic because she can’t find Huong, then Amy comes back and says, ‘I’m Huong … get it?’ and laughs hysterically.

  It’s annoying because they’re not even identical twins.

  By the time my turn comes around, I’m happy to be doing Environmental Duty. It feels like there’s no air left in the classroom and it smells like old seaweed. Mrs Leeman still won’t put the air conditioner above ‘low’. She says she doesn’t want to ‘strain the motor’, as if the motor is designed to do something completely different.

  I go down to the office to have my name ticked off and pick up the key to the bike shed. I have to meet someone called Peter from the other Grade 6 class. I don’t know anyone called Peter. He must be new.

  When I get there, there’s a girl sitting on the chair directly under the air conditioner, hogging all the cool air. It’s the girl with the really long hair that I saw in assembly. She gives me a funny look, so I don’t sit on the other chair. I just stand there.

  It’s impossible to be quiet, though. The old carpet that was wrecked in the flood is gone but the new stuff’s not down yet; it’s bare concrete. Every little sound echoes all over the place. Right now, it sounds like one of those thunderstorms where the hailstones are as big as golf balls. That’s because Miss Creighton thinks you have to bash the keys on the computer really hard to make them work.