Authors: Poppy Inkwell
The three girls pushed Alana out of the way and advanced.
“Hear my soul speak: The very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service,” Khalilah beseeched Flynn.
He took a step back.
“What made me love thee? Let that persuade thee,” Sofia implored. “There's something extraordinary in thee. I cannot: but I love thee; none but thee; and thou deserves it.”
Flynn stepped back again.
“Such is
my
love, to thee I so belong, That for thy right myself will bear all wrong,” Maddie said passionately.
Flynn looked from the adoring girls to the audience. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he gloated, “I bear a charmed life,” until he realised the trio had backed him into a corner. “Thou art very close,” he yelped.
“Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs,” Alana muttered. “And yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays.” It was as if all of them had forgotten the audience and were re-enacting Shakespeare's words for real.
Time to bring this âperformance' to a close before they make even bigger fools of themselves,
Alana thought to herself. She thrust the ass's head from
A Midsummer Night's Dream
onto Flynn's head and dragged him off stage. “That it should come to this!” she declared, throwing her hands in the air in disgust.
“Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow,” called Khalilah, one hand outstretched. Her fingertips brushed the rough hairs of the ass costume as Flynn was led away. The girls sighed, lost in their own world of Shakespearean tragedy.
“Indeed, a very courageous effort from you all,” Dr Olivier said, breaking into the girls' trance. “Thank you for that unique and ⦔ he cleared his throat, “
extraordinary
⦠representation of Shakespeare's work. I don't think I've ever heard so many plays and sonnets performed all at once,” he said, mopping his head profusely and wringing the material out. The audience erupted into applause. Shakespeare's words
had
come alive with real sincerity. And the rap in the beginning about William Shakespeare had been really amazing! The theatre rang with cries of “Encore! Encore!” Alana led Flynn back on stage to join the girls, forcing the furry, unseeing head up and down to take a bow.
“Always knew you were an ass,” she whispered to Flynn.
Flynn gave a good-natured
“Hee-haw!”
and all five of them took another bow.
â¦
Sofia, Maddie and Khalilah rushed up to Flynn as soon as it was time to return to Gibson High, leaving Alana to struggle with the unwieldy ass's costume.
“You were so great back there, Flynn-ster,” Sofia said, looking at Flynn from beneath long eyelashes as she twisted the strands of purple hair around her fingers.
“Oh, thanks,” Flynn replied.
“I thought you were amazing,” Khalilah breathed, looking up at him adoringly.
“You guys were good too,” he said.
Khalilah and Sofia giggled into their hands, just as Chef Thornton had done. But because Khalilah wasn't looking where she was going, she tripped over a bump in the pavement. Flynn stopped her from falling just in time. “Thanks, Flynnie,” she breathed.
“ âFlynnie'? That's a ridiculous name! He's not a baby,” said Sofia.
“At least it's better than âFlynn-ster'. âFlynn-ster' ⦠it sounds like âmonster'.”
“If you think Flynn-ster is bad, wait til you hear what Maddie calls him ⦠âBig F',” Sofia scorned.
“You don't mind, do you, Big F?” Maddie said defensively.
But âBig F' had crept away from the bickering girls. Things were getting way too weird. Alana shook her head as she watched her three friends chase after Flynn with cries of, “Flynn-ster!” “Flynnie!” and “Big F!” Alana realised in horror that her friends were stuck â not in a love triangle, but a love square! The sooner she discovered the truth about âFlynn-the-Phony', the better.
â¦
Back at the school clinic, Nurse Cathy put down the electric drill and lifted her visor to stare at the headless skeleton hanging limply on its hook
⦠Drat! Someone had nicked the skull. How could she practise the bolotomy now? Or was it lobotomy? Medicine was so confusing. She looked around the room. Her gaze fell on both of her bandaged patients. Patient X managed to look panic-stricken.
The door swung open.
“Oh, Nurse Cathy! Thank goodness you're in. I have the most awful migraine,” a voice croaked.
Nurse Cathy beamed as she ushered her new patient in. “I've got just the thing, Mrs Snell,” she said, revving the motor of her electric drill.
Some time later, Nurse Cathy looked in the mirror in consternation. How did the number eight come to be on her forehead? She peered closer. A definite imprint was there, like a stamp pounded into her skin. She looked down at her hand. And why was she holding these headache tablets? The last thing she remembered was searching for the skull of her skeleton. And then Mrs Snell had come in⦠Nurse Cathy peered at the mirror again, realising for the first time that the stamp looked a lot like the number eight on Mrs Snell's knitting needle.
“She didn't⦠she wouldn't⦠nooooo⦔ Nurse Cathy dismissed the fanciful thought that the sweet, gummy, great-grandmotherly Mrs Snell had anything to do with the mysterious mark.
Nurse Cathy rubbed her head. That number eight was
sore
!
Looking down at the headache tablets in her hand, she said, “Good thing I've got these!” congratulating herself on what a fine nurse she was.
Alana hated to admit it, but she was stumped. It was mid-April and she was no closer to unravelling the mystery of Flynn-the-Phony. Such was his popularity amongst her friends that the three girls refused to hear a word against him. Maddie and Flynn met regularly online to jam together with other cyber-friends. He was teaching Sofia how to twirl her drumsticks, and she was teaching him how to read palms, and now and then he shared fudge brownies from the school bakery with Khalilah.
Probably nicked, Alana thought uncharitably as she kicked a wall.
“Hi, Alana,” Flynn would call out, but Alana never replied. She would rather cut out her tongue, skewer it and feed it to an army of red ants before she spoke to that creep. “You could just give him a chance, you know,” Maddie had said to Alana one day. But Alana wasn't interested in giving Flynn a chance and even less so when Sofia had suggested it had something to do with Hugo.
“You think I don't want to like Flynn because of my dad?” Alana had asked, alarmed.
“No, I'm saying that just because you like someone doesn't mean you're
betraying
your dad,” Sofia struggled to explain.
“You think I want to
date
my dad?” Alana cried.
Sofia's dreads flew about her head in an emphatic blur. “No, of course not! I'm just saying that it's okay, you know. To like a boy. It doesn't mean you like your dad any less. In fact your dad would probably approve.”
But on this Alana was adamant. “Not of Flynn, he wouldn't.” She knew Flynn had something to hide and she was not giving up until she found out what.
At least the girls were no longer caught up in the trigonometry of unrequited love. They had come to their senses after realising Flynn was interested in them as friends, and nothing more. Upon reflection, the girls felt embarrassed about the way they had behaved and blamed Tierbert-fever for their actions. NO-ONE should ever come between them and their friendship, said Sofia. The others agreed.
“But if
Jet Tierbert
fell for me, sorry guys, but you'd be dropped faster than a pair of my brother's underdaks,” Sofia conceded, now that her brothers had taken to âmooning' Jehovah's Witnesses, census recorders and any other unsuspecting visitors who came to call. It was so bad Sofia's mum had added the warning: âand kids' to the âBeware of the Dog-sign' which hung on their front gate.
“
He's such a gentleman,
” Alana said, mimicking Khalilah. “Gentleman, my
derrière
,” she grumbled.
“I hope you have a good explanation for defacing school property, Miss Oakley,” a voice rang out.
Alana shook off the cloud of dark thoughts and looked at Coach Kusmuk. The petite figure had her arms crossed and was tapping a size- 3 trainer. A pointed glance downwards made Alana look at the damage she'd caused: a neat, shoe-shaped hole that her football boot had hollowed out.
“This building is part of the National Trust. Do you know what that means? It means that it has a High Historical Value. And I, for one, do not appreciate you kicking it into rubble.”
Crud!
“Ordinarily I'd suggest a gruelling workout on The Scream, but you can have detention with Mrs Snell instead,” the P.E. teacher smirked.
“But I've got soccer practice,” Alana wailed. “The big game is coming up.”
“Too bad. You should have thought of that before waging war on unarmed bricks and mortar. You'd better hurry,” she added with a glance at her watch which looked too heavy for her wrist, “I hear Mrs Snell doesn't like students to be late.”
Alana grabbed her school bag and kit and rushed off with an apologetic glance at Khalilah, who was putting on goalkeeper's gloves. “Where are you going, Alana? We've got training,” she yelled.
Alana could only shrug as she jogged backwards. “Sorry. Got detention. I'll explain la-”
Alana sped down one flight of stairs. Then two. Three. The room reserved for detention was deep in the bedrock of the school's basement, and Alana noticed a sudden drop in temperature with each descending floor. The clock in the room read three-oh-four. She made it into her seat seconds before the bell sounded. Mrs Snell snapped the door shut and gave the detainees a gruesome smile that looked far from friendly. Apart from Alana, there were Miller White and his sci-fi buddies, Chris Kruger and Colin Johnson, as well as a senior boy and girl.
“It's lovely to see you all. I do so enjoy this special, bonding time we can share. Just us. Alone. In this soundproof room. With ALL my favourite toys, I mean, historical artefacts.” Mrs Snell paused to run an admiring finger along the torture devices displayed on the walls: heavy metallic objects with pointy spikes and ominous-looking chains. The air was cold and clammy. Alana shook off the feeling they were in a dungeon. “Do you hear that, children? That is Peace And Quiet. So soothing when you have a migraine. No noises of planes flying overhead. Or trains pounding underground. Just us and a little friend I like to call âSilence'. Let's keep it that way, shall we?” And with a grin that displayed too many false teeth, Mrs Snell waddled to her seat and sat down. They watched her put two mysterious pills in her mouth. With a toad-like swallow, they were gone.
Before long they could hear the familiar
creak, creak, creak
of the chair as the teacher rocked back and forth; the
click, clack
of her knitting needles; and the smacking of her dentures. Alana, who was good at noticing things, saw that the knitting project had overly long arms.
Like it was meant for an orangutan.
The students found it difficult to sit still. It wasn't long before Colin Johnson began to doodle, Chris Kruger found something to eat, and Miller White â next to Alana â began to read. The seniors were seated too far away to know what they were up to. Alana scribbled on a piece of paper and folded it into a tiny, origami frog. With infinite care â for she had to time its launch with a
creak
, a
click
, a
clack
or a
smack
â she aimed carefully and stroked the paper frog's back. Its legs shot forwards and up, so that it landed on Miller White's desk.
Wot u in 4?
Miller read.
Miller checked Mrs Snell wasn't watching and then leaned over to borrow one of the many pens wedged behind Colin Johnson's ears to answer. With care, he re-folded the frog and flicked it back with equal accuracy.
Miller:
Chris thot gud idea 2 make lite sabre.
Alana:
So?
Miller took a pen in a different colour.
Miller:
Lab cot fire.
Alana:
(@@)
Miller shrugged and went back to reading his book.
Alana thought hard. She had really misjudged Miller. He wasn't slow at all, but really, really smart. Possibly even crazy.
He was perfect for her plan!
She bit her lip and wrote furiously.
Alana:
?4U. Can u hack in2 skool comp?
Miller looked furtive before writing his answer.
Miller:
MayB.
Alana:
911.
Alana turned on her Puppy Dog Eyes to show this was a Real Emergency. Miller looked uncomfortable.
Miller:
OK.
Alana could barely contain her excitement.
She had one last idea she wanted to try on her own, but if that didn't work, at least now she had Miller. Finally, she might find out who Flynn really was: whether he was a Second-Chancer, and what, if anything, was his crime.
Alana:
Orsm! Details l8r dude.
Back and forth the little frog had hopped â written on and re-folded, as silent as a moth and yet â¦
The two students were so engrossed in their private dialogue they failed to notice the absence of a
creak
,
click, clack
or
smack
. Or the sudden appearance of Mrs Snell's little friend âSilence'.
“Peace And Quiet. Not too much to ask, I would have thought. And some people
still
find it hard!” the old woman said to Alana, shaking her head.
The paper frog, scribbled over and over with different-coloured pens, had made its final journey, but was nowhere to be seen. Alana sat with all the stillness of a rabbit deciding its next move against a snake.
Where could the paper frog have gone?