No Rules (16 page)

Mr Abercrombie stood quivering with rage for several moments before he launched into action. ‘You've signed – that's final!' he snapped, as he grabbed up the paperwork and ran. VP Pete took off with him.

‘Don't let them get away!' cried Friday. She started hobbling after them herself. Her ankle hurt dreadfully but thankfully it was so cold and the medication she had taken was so strong she was still able to give chase.

‘I'll call the police,' said the Headmaster, as Friday clattered out of the admin building and began lumbering after the Abercrombie brothers running towards the swamp.

As she chased VP Pete and Mr Abercrombie across the school lawn, Friday could see where they were headed. At the end of the jetty, Mr Musa's private seaplane was tied up. Suddenly Ian raced past. He was chasing the men too and he was much faster on his feet than Friday.

Up ahead, Binky was standing on the jetty. He had been given the task of minding Mr Musa's plane. The Headmaster had been concerned that curious
students might climb into the cockpit and start pressing buttons.

‘Binky, tackle VP Pete!' bellowed the Headmaster.

Friday turned to see the Headmaster leaning out of his office window.

This would seem an odd request to most people. But Binky was not given to thinking about things. His headmaster had given him an instruction and he obeyed. As VP Pete and Mr Abercrombie ran down the hill towards him, Binky stepped forward and executed a superb rugby tackle on VP Pete, grabbing him around the waist and bringing him down hard on the bank of the swamp.

Mr Abercrombie kept running, showing a lack of concern for his brother that is sadly typical among many siblings.

Ian was swifter. By the time Mr Abercrombie ran onto the jetty, Ian was only twenty metres behind. Mr Abercrombie grabbed the rope that tied Mr Musa's water plane to the jetty, but Ian got to him just as he pulled open the door.

‘You're not going anywhere,' said Ian, grabbing Mr Abercrombie by his jacket.

But, in a move of unexpected dexterity, Mr
Abercrombie slid out of his jacket, whipped it over Ian's head and pushed him into the water with an enormous splash.

‘Ian!' cried Friday, who had made it to the jetty and was desperately limping to the spot where Ian was thrashing about in the water trying to right himself.

Friday threw herself down full length on the jetty, reached over the side and grabbed hold of Ian, pulling him to the surface. He took a big gasp of breath.

‘Are you all right?' asked Friday, dragging Ian to the jetty so he could climb out.

Ian's response was drowned out by the sound of the plane's engine starting. Ian hauled himself up on the jetty and grabbed hold of the plane's door. He ripped it open and jumped in as the plane started to move.

‘Wait for me!' cried Friday as she lunged in behind him. Her jump was nowhere near as athletic because her ankle still hurt, but she managed to get her upper body into the plane before it started speeding across the water. Ian grabbed hold of Friday and yanked her all the way in before it took to the air.

‘Get out of the plane!' Mr Abercrombie turned and yelled at them.

‘We can't, it's airborne!' yelled Ian.

‘Great, now I'm going to be accused of kidnapping,' said Mr Abercrombie.

‘And stealing a plane,' added Friday.

‘Do you even know how to fly it?' asked Ian.

‘Of course I do,' said Mr Abercrombie. Turning back to the controls, he put on the pilot's headset and started pushing buttons. Suddenly he cried, ‘Ow!' and ripped the headset off.

‘What's wrong?' asked Friday.

‘There was a bee in the earpiece,' said Mr Abercrombie. ‘I've been stung by a dead bee.'

‘So you've got a sore ear, big deal,' said Ian.

‘But I'm allergic!' said Mr Abercrombie. He looked genuinely terrified.

‘How allergic?' asked Friday.

‘Anaphylactic,' said Mr Abercrombie.

‘Is that bad?' asked Ian.

‘See for yourself,' said Friday.

Mr Abercrombie's face was starting to turn red before their eyes. He was clutching at his throat, rasping for breath.

‘Stop grabbing your throat and fly the plane!' yelled Ian.

Mr Abercrombie didn't respond. He was too busy trying to drag oxygen into his lungs through his tightening throat.

‘He needs an emergency tracheotomy right now or he is going to die,' said Friday. ‘You're going to have to fly the plane.'

‘Me?!' cried Ian.

‘There's no one else,' said Friday as she reached forward, grabbed Mr Abercrombie by the shoulders and pulled him backwards out of the pilot seat. ‘Relax, Mr Abercrombie, 94 per cent of patients survive this procedure … although most of them have it performed by a qualified doctor, which would help.'

‘Do you have any tips on how to do this?' asked Ian as he climbed over and took the controls.

‘You've played computer games, haven't you?' said Friday. ‘I'm sure it's much the same principle – up is up, down is down, fuel is good, no fuel is bad. The only difference is, unlike a computer game, if you screw it up you don't get a second and third life.'

‘Thanks for the pep talk,' said Ian.

Friday returned her attention to her patient. ‘I don't suppose you have a pen and a really sharp knife?
I normally would, but I don't carry those things in my running clothes.'

Mr Abercrombie was going purple from lack of oxygen but he still waved his hands at Friday desperately trying to dissuade her from performing surgery.

‘Ah! That's perfect,' said Friday, spotting the plane's first-aid kit strapped to the wall. She opened it up. ‘It's got everything we need. Even antiseptic, which is good for you.' She poured antiseptic over the base of Mr Abercrombie's throat.

‘Gargggh!' Mr Abercrombie used the last of his breath to emit a strangled scream before passing out.

Friday picked up the scalpel and reached down to Mr Abercrombie's thorax. Suddenly the plane lurched to one side and Friday fell across Mr Abercrombie's chest.

‘What was that?' she demanded.

‘I had to swerve to miss a bat,' said Ian.

‘Can't you keep this plane still while I'm cutting open this man's throat?' said Friday.

‘Excuse me if my attempt at flying a plane for the first time doesn't meet your high standards,' said Ian.

Friday pulled herself upright, deftly slit a hole in Mr Abercrombie's skin and pushed a small tube down
into his throat, allowing air to pass into his lungs. She could hear the hiss of his breath going in and out.

‘It worked!' cried Friday delightedly. ‘I've read about the procedure so many times in books, but it's still fun when it actually works in real life. Thankfully, there's surprisingly little blood.'

‘I'm thrilled for you,' said Ian sarcastically. ‘Now you've saved his life, we can all die together when I crash this plane.'

Friday climbed forward into the co-pilot's seat next to Ian. ‘What's with all the negative self-talk?' she asked. ‘It's not like you.'

‘That's because I'm not normally in life and death situations where I have no idea what to do,' said Ian as he raised the flaps and pulled back on the throttle.

‘What are you doing now, then?' asked Friday.

‘Adjusting our angle of descent and reducing speed,' said Ian. ‘I thought that would be a good start.'

‘Less speed certainly sounds like a good idea,' said Friday. ‘And you're going to land it on the water, which is a good thing because it's much softer than land.'

‘Water filled with sharks,' said Ian. He was skimming along just above the water now.

‘I don't want to alarm you but the bank of the swamp seems to be rapidly approaching,' said Friday. Looking out ahead of them, she could see the lights from the school and several lights on the jetty, where no doubt people were gathered watching them.

Ian swore. He'd been so busy concentrating on the dials and the plane's altitude above the water he had forgotten to look out for land. He panicked and pulled back the throttle so that the engines stalled completely. The plane dropped hard onto the water, but still had enough forward momentum that they skipped forward across it like a huge stone.

‘We're going to hit!' cried Friday.

‘There's nothing I can do,' said Ian. ‘This thing doesn't have a brake pedal.'

‘Brace yourself,' said Friday. She wrapped herself in the foetal position then felt Ian's arms wrap around her, before there was a crunch. But it was a surprisingly small crunch.

They both looked up to see that the plane's nose had hit the bank but not very hard. The only visible damaged was one bent propeller.

‘I can't believe I landed a plane,' said Ian.

It took several hours for everything to get sorted out. The paramedic from sick bay had hobbled down to the swamp to monitor Mr Abercrombie's condition until an ambulance arrived. But Sergeant Crowley got there first, so Mr Abercrombie was handcuffed to the gurney before he was rolled into the back of the ambulance.

VP Pete was arrested as well, much to the delight of the student body and teaching staff. Word soon
got around. As he was led in handcuffs to the police squad car, the entire school lined the driveway, dressed in their pyjamas and dressing gowns, so they could cheer and clap as he was taken away.

The Headmaster held an impromptu school assembly on the front steps of the school at 3 am.

‘Students, teachers, I am pleased to announce that this ordeal in progressive education is now over,' said the Headmaster.

Everyone cheered.

‘The school council has been so embarrassed by forcing me to hire a man with a criminal record to act as vice principal that they have no credibility if they try to interfere in school matters again,' said the Headmaster. ‘And the school council won't be sticking its nose in anymore, because it will take them months to elect a new president.'

There was more applause.

‘I'd like to take this opportunity to publicly apologise to Ian Wainscott,' said the Headmaster. ‘He will be reinstated with full scholarship immediately.'

Everyone cheered again.

‘Hey, wait,' said Mirabella. ‘Ian's the scholarship kid? I thought it was Friday.'

‘Shut up, Mirabella,' said Melanie.

‘To celebrate this wonderful occasion I have asked Mrs Marigold to open up the kitchen,' said the Headmaster. ‘Everyone will be served with as much ice-cream as they can eat!'

The cheering was louder than ever as the whole school joyfully wandered off towards the dining hall.

Friday was looking a bit miffed.

‘Something wrong, Friday?' asked the Headmaster.

‘I notice you apologised to Ian, but no words of thanks for me,' said Friday.

The Headmaster laughed. ‘I can't let people know the extent of your role as an intellectual enforcer at this school.'

‘Why not?' asked Friday. ‘Don't you think I deserve some credit? I did just save the school and perform an emergency tracheotomy in a moving airplane.'

‘Because if people found out, I'd be locked up either in a prison cell or a lunatic asylum,' said the Headmaster. ‘And after forty years in education, I'd prefer not to get locked up in another institution.'

Friday pouted, and kicked at the gravel driveway.
Then wished she hadn't because her ankle still hurt.

‘Come on, Barnes,' said the Headmaster. ‘You've got your free tuition and you solved the case. You don't really want fame and glory as well. People would expect you to wear smarter clothes.'

‘True,' agreed Friday begrudgingly.

‘Let's go and eat ice-cream,' said the Headmaster. ‘I have my own stash of chocolate sprinkles, and as a personal mark of my gratitude I'm prepared to share them with you.'

As the sun rose over Highcrest Academy the entire student body was enjoying their second, and in some cases, third or fourth, helpings of ice-cream. The Headmaster had even decreed that everyone could go back to bed and sleep in for the first two periods of the day, which had made Melanie leap up and kiss him on the cheek. It seemed like the perfect start to a new day on the heels of a very long one.

Ian slid into the seat next to Friday.

‘I suppose thanks are in order,' said Ian. ‘You cleared my name.'

Friday smiled. ‘You don't have to thank me. You were my client. I did it for payment.'

‘What do you mean?' asked Ian.

‘The deal was that I cleared your name and then you owed me a favour,' said Friday. ‘That's thanks enough. I'm going to enjoy having that favour up my sleeve.'

‘Hang on,' said Ian. ‘I saved your life. I found you on the cliff face.'

‘You fell on me,' said Friday.

‘Then shared my jumper with you,' said Ian.

‘You did?' said Melanie. ‘How romantic. You didn't tell me that, Friday.'

‘You didn't bring a mobile phone or any way of attracting the attention of rescuers,' said Friday.

‘She's very particular about acts of heroism, isn't she?' Ian said to Melanie.

‘She's just feeling vulnerable because you didn't just rescue her physically but emotionally as well,' said Melanie.

‘I am not!' said Friday.

‘See how red her face is getting?' said Melanie. ‘She's embarrassed because I'm speaking the truth.'

Friday stared at her bowl of ice-cream and tried to will her face back to normal colour.

‘Oh no!' exclaimed Ian. ‘What's going on?!'

Friday looked up to see what had shocked Ian. It was a man she recognised.

‘Mr Wainscott?!' exclaimed Friday. ‘What are you doing here?'

The last time Friday had seen Ian's father he'd been yelling abuse at her as he was dragged away by police because she had just proven that he was guilty of bank robbery and insurance fraud.

‘I've come to claim custody of my son,' said Mr Wainscott.

 

To be continued …