The Trouble with Sauce (8 page)

The staffroom at Mannington High was now the untidiest place in the school. The teachers had nothing to do, but they never got round to tidying up. There had always been a strict rule about washing up your own coffee mug. Now the mugs were piled high in the sink with flies buzzing round them.

Mr Croxall had tried to keep things tidy. He hated the mess, but was sick of cleaning up after the others. So he washed his own mug carefully, kept his pigeonhole neat and tried to keep himself busy. At first, like most of the teachers, he had been delighted with the change in the students, but now he felt useless. He was worried about where it was all leading. Mr Foster had told him the school would soon settle down, but Mr Croxall was not so sure. Eventually the students would run out of things to learn.

The teachers no longer bothered turning up for
their classes, because they didn’t understand them anymore. Mr Woffinden had tried to take a Year 12 Russian history lesson, but discovered the students were teaching themselves in Russian. He had not bothered going back.

Ms Brown found out that her students had totally rewritten the grammar of the English language. She had tried to understand their rules, but they were too complicated.

The two of them sat in the staffroom, playing cards all day. They had just dealt, when the door flew open and four Year 12 students marched in.

‘Right, staff members, pay attention!’ their leader, Angela, announced. ‘We’ve conducted your performance appraisals and have the following feedback for you.’

‘What?’ Mr Woffinden thought he was hearing things.

‘Performance appraisals — they’re like school reports for grown-ups.’

‘I know what a performance appraisal is!’ he snapped. ‘I’m just not used to being given one by a child!’

‘Well,’ Angela smirked, ‘this will be your last one. You have not been to your classroom for over a week. So it’s been decided that your salary could be better spent on research equipment. Your services are no longer required.’

‘We have full authority from the principal for all these decisions,’ the boy next to her added, before anyone could complain.

‘Mr Needham,’ Angela said to the Science teacher, ‘you have been useful in your role as a lab assistant. Your job will continue.’

‘Thank you, Angela. It’s a pleasure to see students doing such great work,’ he said.

‘What a creep!’ Mr Woffinden muttered quietly to Ms Brown. ‘I always knew he was a real swot.’

Ms Brown held her nose and tried to not giggle.

‘Is something amusing?’ said Angela. ‘Would you like to share it with the rest of the staff, Mr Woffinden?’

‘No,’ he mumbled and looked at his feet.

‘Right,’ she continued. ‘The following teachers have been appraised and found no longer useful: Mr Woffinden, Mr Day and Mr Rothwell. From tomorrow you won’t be required.’

Mr Woffinden’s whole card-playing group had been fired — except for Ms Brown.

‘Ms Brown, you will be reassigned as a lab assistant. Mr Needham is struggling to keep up with the workload.’

‘But I’m an English teacher!’ she gasped.

‘Then we will tell you what to do in English,’ Angela said curtly.

‘Stop this right now! We are the teachers and we are in charge here,’ Mr Croxall burst out in his loudest, angriest teacher voice. It had sent shivers down students’ spines for over twenty years. But not today.

Angela laughed. ‘You are supposed to be teachers, but what could you possible teach us?’

‘I could teach you some damn manners!’ Mr Croxall retorted and instantly realised his mistake.

‘Bad language in front of the students.’ Angela made a note on her clipboard. ‘Add that to Mr Croxall’s personal record.’

One by one, the teachers had their performance appraised and were either fired or given a new role in the school. In future none of them would actually be teaching. The students already knew far more than they ever could.

Outside the staffroom Mr Foster listened gleefully. A school without teachers. At last!

The next day Joycasta told the students she did not need to film anymore. She said she was going to focus on Mr Foster. ‘We’ll have it all wrapped up and on air for Thursday’s program.’

When Thursday came, it was the slowest school day ever. Jonty and his friends sat still at the back of Science, watching Mr Needham run round like a possum fetching test tubes and chemicals for the students. They were surprised to see Ms Brown trying to help.

‘Ms Brown,’ barked Boris, ‘fetch the rack of specimen tubes from yesterday’s experiments.’

Ms Brown leapt to a bench that was covered in test tubes. She bit her nails trying to work out which ones.

‘It was the
nucleotide metabolism of small seeded vegetables
experiment. Hurry.’ Boris tutted as he saw her dithering.

She still had no idea what that was. Mr Needham pointed out the rack to her.

‘Thank you!’ she mouthed silently.

‘I’m waiting!’ Boris said without looking up from his microscope.

Ms Brown rushed over with the specimen tubes, just as Anastasia stood up and turned around. She crashed straight into her and the tubes tumbled to the ground and shattered.

‘You clumsy idiot!’ shouted Anastasia.

‘Now, just a moment. Ms Brown is a member of staff —’ Mr Needham didn’t like Anastasia’s rudeness. It seemed like anything that delayed their learning by just a second made the students furious.

‘Not a very
effective
member of staff,’ Anastasia retorted.

‘You just can’t get good staff these days, can you!’ Miranda grumbled.

Boris came over. His experiment was ruined and he would have to start again. He wasn’t happy.

‘That was your last chance, Ms Brown. Clear this up and then report to Angela in Year 12 for reassignment. You’re no use here.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Ms Brown mumbled and went to fetch a dustpan and brush.

Nathaniel, Prune and Jonty watched in silent horror.

‘They’re getting so angry,’ Nathaniel whispered very quietly.

Boris turned round, glowered and then switched to a sick smile as he saw their faces. They could not believe he had heard that.

‘Tonight,’ Jonty mouthed. They clung to the hope that all they had to do was last through the rest of the day and then, once
24/7
exposed the school, everything would be okay.

When school was finally over, they ran as fast as they could to Jonty’s house to watch the show together.

‘They’re really scaring me now,’ said Prune. ‘I think any one of them is about to blow up.’

‘It is a very worrying energy,’ Nathaniel said and Jonty agreed. Prune smiled to herself. Talking about ‘energy’ was one of the things she used to get teased about. Now the boys were saying it themselves.

The six o’clock news dragged on and on. Jonty checked the settings on their DVD recorder to make sure it was recording the right channel. Nathaniel checked them again.

Finally at 6.30
24/7
started and Jonty called his mum. He wanted to make sure she saw it. He had told her all about what was happening at school and he knew that if she saw it on
24/7
she would believe him.

‘There she is!’ Prune said, pointing to the screen.

‘I can’t believe you met her!’ said Mrs Townsend. ‘Is she that pretty in real life?’

‘Shhh!’ Jonty didn’t want to miss a word.

‘Tonight on
24/7,’
said Joycasta, ‘what’s going on in our schools? We expose the truth about what your children get up to when they should be learning!’

‘Yes!’ the kids all shouted, thrilled that it was the main story.

‘Are these your children?’ Joycasta asked, as pictures of Prune, Nathaniel and Jonty came onto the screen.

‘One of them is — the boy on the left!’ Jonty’s mum spoke to the television as if Joycasta could hear her.

‘Well, you’re in for a shock. These children contacted our show with a story too fantastic to be true. They claim their principal is using little green pills to control the mind of every student in the school. Turning them into, and I quote, “crazed zombies obsessed with learning". We decided this should be investigated and what we discovered will shock you … You’ll find out right after this break.’

‘No!’ Nathaniel couldn’t believe they were going to a break so early. His parents always watched the ABC news, so he wasn’t used to ad breaks. The children grew anxious as ad after ad appeared.

‘My son on
24/71’
Mrs Townsend smiled. She went to the window to see if any of the neighbours were looking over at the house of the local celebrity.

The program came back and Joycasta had her concerned face on.

‘I hope the parents of these children are watching.’

‘Yes, yes I am!’ called out Mrs Townsend.

The children appeared on the screen again.

‘Because your children are lying little scoundrels, who will do anything to bring shame on their school!’

‘What?’ they all cried out.

Joycasta continued. ‘Truancy, lewd behaviour, bullying, even spitting competitions — the list of their crimes goes on.’

Suddenly the screen was filled with the images of Prune and Jonty pretending to spit the pills out. They seemed to be spitting further and further, trying to outdo each other. Then they saw Nathaniel being interviewed in the café saying, ‘Yeah there was some bullying going on, but —’ The camera cut to Jonty saying, ‘I played a few tricks on people; nothing too bad.’

Then Prune saying, ‘Some of it was quite horrible.’

It sounded like they were the ones doing the bullying.

‘And come lesson time, where are these petty criminals to be found? Look at the back gate!’

The program showed Jonty jumping over the back gate and then Prune getting stuck. The camera zoomed in on her knickers as the wind blew her skirt up!

‘And as for “after-school” activities, how about this?’ There was Prune and Nathaniel rolling around on the ground on top of each other after Prune had fallen off the gate.

Next they showed Joycasta with Mr Foster. ‘What do you say to the claims these children make about little green pills?’

Mr Foster sighed and looked concerned. ‘Any school has its problem elements and we are no exception. It saddens me that Nathaniel, Prune and Jonty have brought their trouble to the nation’s attention.’

‘But what about the claim they make about some magic pills?’

‘I think they mean these.’ Mr Foster produced one of the pills. ‘It’s a vitamin supplement, entirely natural, designed to help students with general health and wellbeing. It’s part of a study we’ve been conducting. The results, in terms of overall behaviour, have been quite positive. But it’s only a short-term test. The students received one pill, with
parental consent and that was it — hardly enough to make someone a zombie.’

‘Mr Foster invited us to film in the school,’ Joycasta continued, ‘and we found a school every community would be proud of, with well-behaved students working hard, wanting to learn and helping each other. We managed to speak to the parents of the girl, Mr and Mrs de Luca. See for yourself whether they are fit parents.’

There were Prune’s parents sitting on their sofa, completely naked as usual. Parts of her body had been pixellated.

‘Oh no!’ Prune’s heart sank even further.

‘Do you know your daughter is running wild, rolling around the ground with boys, spitting and playing truant?’

‘Really?
Prune?’
said Mr de Luca and looked at his wife in mild surprise.

Verity de Luca thought carefully. ‘No, I don’t believe that, but apparently the principal is an alien. She told me.’

‘I did not!’ Prune shouted at the screen.

Back in the studio Joycasta picked up the story. ‘With parents like that, is it any wonder these kids have gone wild?’

The children gasped as they saw Joycasta running down the street, chasing them just as she had the dodgy plumbers. They had
all been running away together and now she made out that she was chasing them.

‘Come back and face the truth of what you’ve done!’ she shouted after them.

‘No!’ Nathaniel gasped as the report finished. He was so relieved that his parents never watched
24/7.

Mrs Townsend turned off the TV and stared at the empty screen.

The children didn’t move. Joycasta had completely twisted their words. She had seemed so nice, they never doubted she was on their side.

Mrs Townsend got up slowly and walked to the windows. She closed the blinds, afraid that the neighbours would look in and see her terrible son. ‘Jonty, go to your room,’ she said.

‘But —’

‘Now!’

Jonty got up and walked out.

‘You two should go home immediately. Do your parents know where you are?’

They both nodded and walked to the door.

All three felt sick to the pit of their stomachs. Being humiliated on TV was one thing; facing angry parents was another. Turning up at school tomorrow would be the scariest thing of all.

Before he went to sleep Jonty tried talking to his parents.

‘But it was there, on TV. I saw it with my own eyes,’ his mother said.

‘And I tell you she’s lying,’ he pleaded. He had told the truth and Joycasta had lied, but his parents believed the woman on TV over their own son.

The following day Jonty’s family ate their breakfast in silence. Every time he looked at his parents, they looked away, as if they could not think of a thing to say to him. His little sister stared at him, unable to believe anyone could be in so much trouble.

‘Why won’t you believe me?’ he blurted out, unable to stand the silence.

‘That’s enough, Jonty,’ his dad said.

‘You love that disgusting woman on TV more than you love me.
She’s a nasty cow who twisted our words.’

‘I said enough!’ his father glowered at him.

Jonty slammed his spoon down on his cereal and sent milk splashing all over the table. ‘I’m going to school,’ he said and stormed out, ignoring his father shouting that he should apologise.

Jonty didn’t want to hang around at home, but he didn’t want to turn up at school early, either. Without contacting Nathaniel and Prune, he went to the café in Misery Mall. He knew they would do the same. When he arrived they were sitting at a table with their heads in their hands. An old woman was standing over them wagging her finger.

‘You’re a disgrace,’ she said. ‘This shopping centre used to be a nightmare for us pensioners, but now it’s lovely. There’s no running around, no shouting and no pranks. Your school’s a credit to this country and you’re trying to ruin it.’

She didn’t stop talking, even when Jonty sat down at the table. ‘Your parents should be ashamed — especially
yours,
young lady.’ She prodded Prune’s shoulder. ‘Flashing your underwear for the whole world to see! And your mother’s no better — on television without as much as a bra-strap. I don’t know —’

‘If you don’t know, then don’t say anything,’ Jonty snapped. ‘That TV program was a complete lie
and if you really knew what was going on at our school, you’d be thanking us.’

She gave them another piece of her mind and went back to her tea and raisin toast. She had been talking so long her tea was cold, so she complained to the manager about that, too.

‘My parents won’t believe me. I tried to tell them,’ Jonty said.

‘Mine have no idea,’ said Prune. ‘They couldn’t even remember being interviewed. Verity thought that had been part of her meditation. At least six people shouted at me on my way here.’

‘You’re a disgrace!’ shouted some shopper passing by.

‘Make that seven people,’ Prune added.

‘My parents didn’t watch the program, but their friends delivered a DVD of it last night,’ said Nathaniel. ‘And this morning they rang the doctor to have me tested for drugs.’

Jonty snorted; they were the only students who
weren’t
on drugs. ‘We’ve got to prove ourselves right!’ he said.

‘How?’ said Prune. Their first attempt at exposing Mr Foster had been a complete disaster and she didn’t want to go through that again.

‘We have to establish how he’s getting the pills to the students,’ said Nathaniel. ‘If we could
somehow cut off the supply, then the school might return to normal.’

‘Yes!’ said Jonty. It sounded like a great idea.

‘How
is
he giving them the pills?’ Prune asked. ‘No one’s being called to his office anymore.’

‘We’ve got to find out.’ Jonty banged the table with his fist. ‘I don’t know how, but it’s our only chance of ending this — by destroying the pills ourselves.’

That seemed like a hard job and it was about to get even harder.

‘You three, on your feet now!’ a familiar voice interrupted them.

They looked up to see Henry the Octopus, with Boris and Mike smirking over his shoulder. There were two other students as well — all of them wearing a new uniform, a dark green shirt with matching long pants. The buttons on the shirt were done right up to the neck and there was a short upright collar. They looked like soldiers.

Boris and Mike pulled Jonty up and twisted both his arms behind his back. The other two grabbed Nathaniel and Prune roughly and twisted their arms as well.

‘You’re hurting!’ Prune yelled as she struggled to get away.

‘You’re all under arrest for bringing our school
into disrepute. You have been tried by the Student Disciplinary Council and found guilty.’

‘Lock them up, that’s what I say!’ shouted the old lady with the raisin toast.

Jonty, Prune and Nathaniel were marched out of the café and through the mall. All the shoppers and shop owners watched and began to clap. Jonty could hear the voices shouting above the clapping. It was a complete humiliation.

‘They’re a disgrace!’

‘Give them what for!’

‘You show them! Good on Mannington High!’

Back at school all the students were wearing the same dark green uniform as Henry the Octopus. Across the playing fields, in the areas that had not been planted with experimental crops, were rows of large tents.

The students had decided to spend the next two weeks living at the school and sleeping in the tents. Time at home was a waste, when they could be at school learning. They had all got their parents to sign permission forms so they could go on a ‘study camp'. The parents thought their children were out in the Australian bush learning about nature, but instead they were at school, learning how to change nature altogether!

‘It looks like an army base!’ gasped Nathaniel.

As they were marched across the playground —
or parade ground — Jonty saw Mr Foster come out of the side entry to the school kitchen. He glanced around carefully and locked the door behind him. When he saw Jonty, he smirked and strode over to them. ‘I had no idea how interesting
24/7
could be,’ he said. ‘I should watch it more often.’

‘You can’t make us take your pills!’ Prune blurted out. ‘You can’t.’

Henry the Octopus snorted.

‘Your learning privileges have been withdrawn,’ Henry announced. ‘You won’t learn anything until you learn to respect our school.’

‘You can’t do that,’ Nathaniel said.

‘I believe they can!’ said Mr Foster. ‘The children have written new rules for the school. They are the ones in charge.’

‘When someone finds out what’s going on, you’ll be stopped,’ Prune said, determined to show that she wasn’t afraid.

Boris laughed again. ‘Wrinkle,’ he said, ‘surely even an inferior like you understands that no one in the world
ever
believes a word you say.’

‘I leave them in your capable hands, then,’ Mr Foster said to Henry and brushed his hands. Jonty noticed that they were red. Before he could look closer, Mr Foster stuck his hands into his trouser pockets and walked off.

He was hiding something.

*  *  *  

The three of them were assigned to cleaning duties. Nathaniel would help Mr Needham clean up the equipment in the science lab. Jonty and Prune were sent to the toilets.

The boys’ toilet stank. Jonty’s hand shot up to his nose, as Henry pushed him in with a bucket and scrubbing brush. Whatever Mr Foster was giving them to make their brains more advanced, it was having the opposite effect on their stomachs. The place smelt like the ape house at the zoo.

The walls had some of the graffiti left over from the old days of the school: ‘Sign here if you think Croxall wears women’s knickers.’ It had twenty names scribbled under it, including ‘Britney Spears’ and ‘Mr Croxall'. Jonty grinned. It was Boris who had written Mr Croxall’s name. He stopped smiling when he saw the picture of a mouldy plum that Boris had also drawn, with the words, ‘Prune de Luca’s prettier sister’ underneath it.

Most of the old graffiti was hardly visible. The walls were filled with maths equations, as the students competed to see who could write the biggest and most complex equation. There was also some sort of argument in Japanese.

He sat down on a toilet to think. His dad always said it was the best place for thinking. Jonty had
thought it was just an excuse to spend hours in there, reading the paper, but perhaps his dad was right.

How were the other students getting the pills?

Perhaps they’d been sent to everyone at home?

No — the parents watching the TV program would know that Mr Foster had lied when he said no one was taking them anymore.

Perhaps they were added to the school’s airconditioning and everyone was breathing the chemicals in?

No. If that were true, everyone would have been affected, including Jonty and his friends.

He looked around at all the maths equations scribbled on the walls. No answers there. He looked at his feet on the floor, the back of the toilet door and the bucket of hot water. They were no help either. He sighed and stared at his own hands. As he turned them over, he thought of Mr Foster’s red hands and that reminded him of his face as he’d seen him coming out of the school kitchen.

He bit his lip. What if the pills were in there? Why would he store the pills in the school canteen?

Then it hit him. Jonty jumped up with excitement. Everything he had seen in the playground over the past few weeks suddenly made sense.

‘Yes!’ he shouted and jumped up.

Jonty knew exactly what Mr Foster had done with the pills, and lunchtime would be the perfect occasion to prove it.