No Rules (13 page)

Friday and Melanie spent the morning trying to break in to the Headmaster's office. This had not impressed the Headmaster because he was trying to have a nap at the time, and Friday's method of breaking-in involved drilling a hole through the stone external wall into the back of his filing cabinet.

‘What on earth are you doing?' demanded the Headmaster as he leaned out his office window and found the two girls crouched in the bushes.

‘We're attempting to work out who is behind the string of misdeeds that has taken place at Highcrest by reinvestigating the original crime,' said Friday.

‘What?' asked the Headmaster.

‘She's trying to figure out who forged the termination letters,' explained Melanie.

‘We already know who did it!' said the Headmaster. ‘It was Ian Wainscott.'

‘Then how did he get the information?' asked Friday.

‘I don't know,' said the Headmaster.

‘Exactly,' said Friday. ‘Which is why I'm trying to work out how someone could break in to your personnel files and find out all the teachers' dark secrets.'

‘You just drilled a hole in the stone wall of a heritage-listed building!' yelled the Headmaster.

‘Yes,' agreed Friday, ‘and I've pulled Mr Braithwaite's file out of the back of your filing cabinet. So now we know it is possible.'

‘Why didn't you just look and see if there was already another hole in the wall?' asked the Headmaster.

Friday looked about at the wall. There was only
one hole. The one she had just made. ‘I suppose that would have been more sensible.'

‘You promised me you would keep a low profile while the school was on probation,' said the Headmaster.

‘I'm crouched in a bush,' said Friday. ‘You can't get much more low profile than that.'

The Headmaster quivered with suppressed rage. ‘I want to give you detention every day for the rest of your life, but the vice principal is at this very moment taking representatives of the Department of Education and the school council on a tour of the school, and I don't want to draw their attention to the fact that I have such a degenerate in the student body.'

‘Thank you, sir,' said Melanie.

‘Why are you thanking him?' asked Friday. ‘He just called me a degenerate.'

‘Yes, but the subtext is we're not getting detention,' said Melanie.

‘Give me that file and get out of my sight!' said the Headmaster.

‘If you stopped leaning out your window we would be out of your sight,' said Friday, as she handed the file to the Headmaster.

‘And make sure you plug up that hole before you go. My office is draughty enough as it is,' said the Headmaster, slamming the window shut.

Friday and Melanie took a good twenty minutes to refill the hole with putty, then wandered as slowly as possible back to their classroom. They were supposed to be in woodwork but neither of them was in a hurry to get there. Unfortunately, as they turned the corner into the quadrangle, they came face to face with VP Pete and his tour group.

‘Barnes,' said VP Pete. ‘What are you doing out of class?'

‘We were assisting the Headmaster with a problem,' said Friday.

‘Something he couldn't cope with himself?' asked VP Pete. Two of the people in the tour group started jotting down notes.

‘No, sir,' said Friday. ‘The Headmaster is an excellent man, capable of anything.'

‘Is this Friday Barnes?' asked a woman in the tour group. ‘The student whose father was arrested for theft last term?'

‘He was exonerated,' said Friday. ‘He'd been framed.'

‘That happens a lot here, doesn't it?' said VP Pete.

‘My mother is a Nobel Laureate,' said Friday, trying to impress the group.

‘Is she the woman who landed a helicopter on the polo pitch and caused four thousand dollars' worth of damage to the turf?' asked another member of the tour.

‘She wasn't the one actually flying the helicopter,' said Friday. ‘That was a member of the Swedish Air Force.'

More notes were jotted down.

VP Pete smiled. ‘You'd better run along, Barnes. Thank you for being so informative.'

Friday and Melanie began to walk away.

‘I don't think we helped,' said Melanie.

Suddenly they heard a crack, a sickening thud and then screaming.

‘What was that?' asked Friday.

‘It sounded like it came from the quadrangle,' said Melanie.

The girls rushed over to see. There was a large crowd gathered around a garden bed outside the English classrooms. Max Abercrombie was lying flat on his back in the middle of it. The balustrade
along the verandah had collapsed and was lying in a scattering of sawdust on the ground.

‘Urggh,' moaned Max.

His sister, Lizzie, was kneeling over him. ‘Are you all right?' she asked, picking up his hand and giving it a squeeze.

‘I don't know,' said Max. ‘It's my back. It hurts so much. And I can't move my legs. I'm scared.'

‘Gosh! It must be a spinal injury.' said Mr Conti, who was standing on the deck above them. The broken bannister hung splintered and dangling near his feet. ‘Don't let him move! I'll run and call an ambulance.'

Mr Conti ran off.

‘Should the only responsible adult be running away from the scene of a serious injury?' asked Melanie.

‘He's probably gone into shock,' said Friday.

‘Who, Max?' asked Melanie.

‘No, Mr Conti,' said Friday. ‘Teachers so rarely have to deal with anything important. He's not used to thinking like a rational adult.'

‘Don't worry, Max,' said Lizzie. ‘Help is on its way.'

VP Pete rushed over and pushed his way to the front of the crowd. ‘What happened here?' he asked. His tour group hung at the back, observing the situation.

‘Max was just leaning on the balustrade and it gave way,' said Lizzie.

VP Pete picked up a piece of broken timber that was lying on the ground. It had been a solid three-inch square piece of timber, but now it was splintered halfway through. ‘Shoddy maintenance,' he said, shaking his head.

‘What if I'm a paraplegic now?' asked Max.

‘The school's insurance policy will pay for your rehabilitation,' said VP Pete.

‘I'll never walk again,' moaned Max.

‘You poor boy,' said VP Pete. ‘This is a tragedy. A spinal injury could be the last straw for Highcrest.'

‘He'll be fine,' said Friday. She was closely inspecting the broken balustrade in VP Pete's hand.

‘What do you mean?' asked Lizzie. ‘Just because you're a smartypants, doesn't mean you can diagnose spinal damage.'

‘For all her brains, she doesn't know how to have an ounce of human compassion,' said Mirabella,
who was at the front of the growing crowd of spectators.

‘If you look at this balustrade,' said Friday, ‘it's only splintered on one side, while the other half is a clean break.'

‘So it snapped,' said Lizzie. ‘They probably used substandard wood when they built it.'

‘No, this is hard wood,' said Friday. ‘You can tell because it's hard.' Friday tapped the piece of balustrade against the decking to demonstrate. ‘And down here –' Friday kicked at the dirt beside Max ‘– we have sawdust. Broken wood does not make sawdust.'

‘It was probably caused by termites,' said Lizzie. ‘They weakened the wood.'

‘Termites are photophobic,' said Friday. ‘They only like the dark. They wouldn't eat a piece of wood that is exposed to daylight all day long. Besides, there is no papery disintegration of the timber like you would see if there was a termite infestation.'

‘What are you saying?' asked Melanie.

‘I'm saying that this balustrade was cut halfway through with a saw,' said Friday. ‘The sawing action created the sawdust and the clean half of this break.
Then it would only have taken a good hard shove to snap through the rest.'

‘It hardly matters,' said VP Pete. ‘This boy is seriously hurt.'

‘No, the only injuries Max has are very superficial,' said Friday.

‘How can you say that?' demanded Lizzie. ‘Can't you see my brother is in pain?'

‘Yes, which is part of the problem,' said Friday. ‘Also, I can see that his hand is reddened.'

‘So he must have scraped it on something when he fell,' said Lizzie.

‘Or he could have rubbed it raw when he was using a saw to cut the timber himself,' said Friday. ‘If he did, he would have a blister on the inside of the base of his thumb. Show me your hand, Max.'

‘Urrrgh,' said Max. ‘I'm in too much pain.'

‘That's another thing,' said Friday. She walked over and kicked Max's foot.

‘Aaaagggh,' said Max.

‘If you had a broken spine, you wouldn't be able to feel anything,' said Friday.

‘But I can't move my legs,' said Max.

‘That's probably a good thing,' said Friday. ‘You
should stay as still as possible because I've just seen a spider crawl up your trouser leg.'

‘What?!' exploded Max as he leapt to his feet and started dancing around, shaking his legs and madly patting at his trousers.

‘What's going on? Is the boy all right?' asked the Headmaster as he and Mr Conti hurried to the scene.

‘Everything is fine,' said Friday. ‘Although you might want to bill the cost of repairing the balustrade to Max's family.'

‘My father won't stand for this!' yelled Max.

‘Let's write this off as hijinks,' said VP Pete. ‘The balustrade will be easily repaired. It will give the year 10 woodwork class something useful to do.'

‘Aren't you going to punish him?' asked Friday.

‘We don't do punishments anymore,' said VP Pete. ‘Max, I want you to write a self-analysis and have it on my desk first thing tomorrow. Everyone else get back to class now, or I'll be getting you all each to write a self-analysis too.'

The crowd scurried away.

‘Come along,' said VP Pete to his tour group, ‘I'll show you the dining hall.'

‘Is that where the deathcap mushroom scare occurred?' asked a tour member as they walked away.

‘That was odd,' said Melanie.

‘What, that Max attempted insurance fraud?' asked Friday. ‘It seems thoughtlessly spiteful and therefore in character.'

‘Yes,' said Melanie, ‘but to do something that involves a saw seems like such a lot of effort.'

‘Some people aren't afraid of physical exertion,' said Friday.

Melanie shuddered. ‘The fools.'

The next day Friday discovered that the Headmaster had cooked up an even crueller way of punishing her than sending her to detention.

‘I demand to see the Headmaster immediately!' said Friday. ‘Please,' she added, realising it wasn't the receptionist's fault so there was no need to be rude.

‘You have to make an appointment to see the Headmaster,' said Miss Priddock, the receptionist.

‘Really?' said Friday. ‘I never have before and I see him all the time.'

‘That's because he's usually the one demanding to see you,' said Miss Priddock.

‘The Headmaster had better see me immediately,' said Friday. ‘Otherwise I might insist he needs an appointment to see me next time he wants some stolen property found or a mystery solved.'

‘Barnes! Is that you I can hear yelling?' the Headmaster yelled from inside his office.

‘Yes,' Friday yelled back.

‘Get in here, then,' said the Headmaster. ‘You're ruining my morning cup of tea, so you might as well come in and get whatever irritating demand you're going to make over with.'

Friday strode into the Headmaster's office. He was not behind his desk as usual but rather sitting in his armchair with his feet up on an ottoman as he sipped a cup of tea. And not from a mug, but from a proper teacup and saucer. He closed his eyes as he sipped and then sighed with appreciation.

‘I didn't know you liked tea that much,' said Friday.

‘I don't,' said the Headmaster, his eyes still closed.
‘Dreadful dishwatery liquid. But my cardiologist says I need to drink less coffee and find ways to relax, and not let stress get to me.'

‘Have the recent troubles here given you health problems?' asked Friday.

‘My entire forty-year career has given me stress-related health problems,' said the Headmaster. ‘But the last few months have certainly been the icing on the cake.'

‘Why don't you retire?' asked Friday. ‘No offence, but you are really old and you don't seem to find any pleasure in your work.'

‘Gambling debts,' said the Headmaster.

‘Ah,' said Friday. ‘Still paying them off?'

The Headmaster nodded.

‘You should try solving a bank robbery,' said Friday. ‘It's a great way to earn a lot of cash quickly.'

‘Some of us don't have your talent for busy-bodying,' said the Headmaster, opening his eyes and glaring at Friday. ‘So, why are you here ruining my little tea ceremony?'

‘Oh yes,' said Friday. ‘I'm cross. When I returned to my room after breakfast this morning, I found this.' She reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of paper torn into tiny scraps.

The Headmaster smiled. ‘I enjoyed doing that.'

‘It's my medical certificate,' said Friday. ‘I got it from a real genuine doctor.'

‘I'm sure you did,' said the Headmaster. ‘It is nonetheless poppycock. There is no real medical reason why you should not participate in the school's cross country carnival.'

‘The doctor said it would cause undue strain to my weak constitution,' said Friday.

‘Balderdash,' said the Headmaster. ‘You're perfectly capable of wading through the swamp, abseiling off the roof, or cutting your way through the school fence when you need to. By the way, the cost of repairs for that is going on your bill. A jog through the forest is entirely within the realm of your capabilities.'

‘But …' said Friday, consternation overwhelming her ability to wrangle her vocabulary. ‘But … I don't want to.'

‘Ah, and that's the gist of it, isn't it?' said the Headmaster. ‘Well, tough. You have to. Everyone has to. Students today spend too much time doing what they want and not enough time doing thoroughly unpleasant things just because they have to. That sort
of thing used to be the backbone of the education system.'

‘But the vice principal is supposed to be introducing new educational theories,' said Friday.

‘My theory is that the vice principal is an idiot,' said the Headmaster. ‘These progressive ideas are doing more harm than good. I'm taking a stand.'

‘This isn't like you,' said Friday. ‘Why are you choosing to put your foot down now?'

‘Because this school is falling apart,' said the Headmaster.

‘Has the school council been harassing you again?' asked Friday.

‘Yes, but it's more than that,' said Headmaster. ‘Highcrest is becoming a laughing stock. We need a PR coup. And that's what this cross country carnival is going to be. I've invited all the media outlets and they're turning out in force. They're all keen to get a look at elitist education. I intend to make their jaws drop at the quality of our grounds and facilities.'

‘And making children jog,' said Friday.

‘People love that sort of stuff,' said the Headmaster. ‘It's schadenfreude. It makes them remember the days when they had to run cross country, and it
fills them with warm gooey delight that they never have to do it ever again. Trust me, seeing three hundred kids running off into the forest, then eating a couple of dozen finger sandwiches before watching them come running back out again will make for a lovely afternoon.'

‘But why do I have to participate?' said Friday.

‘Everyone does,' said the Headmaster. ‘There are no exceptions. Besides, with all your crime-solving, you're a minor local celebrity. Seeing you stagger out of the forest exhausted after a bracing five-kilometre run will emphasise my superb leadership of this school.'

‘I won't do it,' said Friday.

‘Then I'll expel you,' said the Headmaster.

‘You wouldn't dare,' said Friday. ‘You need me.'

‘I have nothing left to lose,' said the Headmaster. ‘If I don't pull this off, the trustees will use it as an excuse to sell the grounds off to a golf-course developer.'

‘Not golf,' said Friday. ‘Why is everyone so sports-obsessed?'

‘I think rich people use it to distract them from their miserable lives,' said the Headmaster. ‘Anyway,
the long and the short of it is you're running. The whole course. No cheating or trickery. And you can tell Pelly no napping, either!'

‘Okay,' agreed Friday, reluctantly. She didn't want to see the school shut down and the Headmaster lose his job.