Stuff Happens: Sean: Sean
Author: Will Kostakis
Date: 2014-08-26T14:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Juvenile Fiction; General; Family; Juvenile Nonfiction; Health & Daily Living
Description: Stuff Happens is an important new series for boys about everyday challenges. Created by Susannah McFarlane, the series editor, the series is written by established authors Tony Wilson, Andrew Daddo, Philip Gwynne, Will Kostakis, Scot Gardner, Justin D'Ath, James Roy, Pat Flynn and Alex McDiarmid. Each book features a different character and follows them as they overcome a particular everyday challenge. Aimed at boys aged between 7 and 11, the Stuff Happens series explores those everyday struggles in life that boys can sometimes be reluctant to express: quarrels with mates, a bad day at school,
Publisher: Penguin Group Australia

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

About the Author

I hadn’t done anything wrong – it just looked like it.

I was sitting outside the principal’s office. Was I a bully? Had I gotten into a fight? Neither. I’d been told to wait there when I arrived. It was my first day at Monvale Primary. Everyone walking past was probably wondering what I’d done.

There was a boy sitting across from me, slouched in his chair. He had definitely done something wrong. His shirt was untucked, but nobody got sent to the principal for an untucked shirt. Or did they? This was a new school after all. Maybe Monvale Primary was the sort of place where that happened . . .

I quickly looked down at my waist to check my shirt. I was okay.

‘What did you do?’ We’d been sitting on opposite sides of the hall for ten minutes before he spoke.

‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘I’m new.’

‘Oh, sweet.’ He slid forward to the edge of his seat. ‘I’m Huck.’

I hesitated. I could hear Mum’s voice in my head. She told me to make good friends, not the kind who were sent to the principal before the first bell. I already had good friends, only they were back on the other side of Australia. ‘I’m Sean,’ I said.

‘Where are you from?’ Huck asked.

‘Bunbury.’

He scrunched his face up.

‘It’s in Western Australia,’ I added.

‘Near Perth?’ he asked.

‘Depends. It’s ninety minutes away usually, but two hours if Dad’s the one driving.’

Huck laughed, then asked, ‘Why did you move to Monvale?’

‘My parents grew up here and wanted to come back,’ I said.

‘Ah, you’re coming back home.’

‘Not really.’

Monvale was my parents’ home, Bunbury was mine. Mum and Dad had quit their jobs and packed our lives into bags and boxes. Well, they packed what they could. There were things I couldn’t take with me – like my school friends Eddie and Christian, the burger place that knew what I wanted before I ordered and the park across the street with the huge chessboard. We had said goodbye to Bunbury, hopped on a plane and landed somewhere new that I wasn’t sure I’d like as much.

My parents were happy. But nobody asked if I was.

‘Are you in year five?’ I asked.

Huck shook his head. ‘Year six,’ he said. ‘Who’s your teacher?’

‘Mr Johnson.’

He made a face like he’d just sucked on a lemon. ‘That’s unlucky.’

‘Why?’

Before he could answer, the door beside us opened. The principal seemed a little disappointed when she noticed Huck waiting for her. ‘What is it this morning, Huck?’ she asked.

‘Nothing, Principal Davies, I swear. I didn’t do anything.’ Huck’s voice was higher than it had been before.

‘All right.’ The principal turned to me and smiled warmly. ‘You must be Sean Summers.’

I nodded. My parents had spoken to Principal Davies on the phone, but we’d never met. She reminded me of Mum a little bit.

‘Great to have you join the Monvale Primary family, Sean,’ she said. ‘I hope Huck has been entertaining.’

‘Very,’ Huck said.

The principal laughed and checked her watch. ‘Huck, the bell is about to ring. Could you walk Sean to 5J? When you’re done, you can come back and talk to me about what you didn’t do.’

‘Okay.’ Huck sprung up.

I pulled my bag out from under the seat and followed him down the hall. Kids were rushing to get to class, but Huck wasn’t in a hurry. He was my tour guide, stopping to point out the landmarks we passed – the library, the staffroom, the toilets. He had a story for each one.

‘But don’t tell anyone I told you that,’ he said, after telling me about the time he – actually, I shouldn’t say.

I tried to make him speed up. ‘Don’t we have to get to class?’

‘Nup,’ he said. ‘Everyone’s just lining up. We’ve got plenty of time. Relax.’

‘What did you mean before?’ I asked him.

‘When?’

‘When I said I had Mr Johnson and you said it was unlucky. What’s wrong with Mr Johnson?’

Huck laughed. ‘Oh, nothing much, just that he’s the strictest teacher at Monvale.’

‘What?’

‘Yeah. Worse than Ms Lucas, and she’s really strict. He can see everything. It’s like he has eyes in the back of his head. I had him last year. He always made me pick up rubbish in the playground. Oh, and once, he confiscated my phone, but I stole it back.’

I could already picture Mr Johnson: a lean, mean, confiscating machine. Gulp.

Huck had stopped. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘this is it.’

We were standing in front of 5J. Suddenly my heart was pounding and my chest was getting tighter.

‘Good luck,’ Huck said. He was already walking back to the principal’s office.

I was on my own, staring at the classroom door. I really didn’t want to go in. I didn’t want a strict teacher. I liked being in Mrs McKenzie’s year five class. Last term, when we all did well in our projects, she made us brownies. The kind with icing on top.

I wanted to go back to 5M, but I was in 5J now. Mr Johnson was my teacher and that was my classroom door. I just had to open it.

I held my breath and reached for the handle, but the door opened before I could grab it. Mr Johnson was on the other side.

‘Ah, you must be Sean Summers. Good to see you,’ he said. ‘We’re in a tricky spot and I was worried you wouldn’t find us. I almost sent someone to fetch you.’ He stepped back, smiling. ‘Come in, come in.’

I was surprised. He didn’t seem as scary as Huck described.

‘I hope you’re excited,’ he said.

Not exactly. I was at a new school and had to make new friends. I met Eddie and Christian in kindergarten, but I didn’t remember what I’d done to make them like me. I wasn’t excited . . . I was scared. Arriving in the middle of term just made everything worse. The walls were already covered with cardboard projects, and papier-mâché planets hung from strings above us. Everybody had their seats, their bag hooks, their friends and their spots to eat lunch. I had to catch up.

The entire class was waiting for me now, standing behind their desks. Mr Johnson showed me to my bag hook and then led me to the front of the room. Twenty-six kids stared at me. I had enough time to count them before Mr Johnson spoke.

‘Good morning, everyone.’

The class replied in unison, ‘Good morning, Mr Johnson.’

Everybody started pulling their chairs off their desks, loudly scraping the legs across.

‘Quietly,’ Mr Johnson added.

The noise suddenly stopped. Everybody lifted their chairs onto the floor.

Mr Johnson cleared his throat and said, ‘As you can see, we have someone new with us today. This is Sean. I want you all to make him feel welcome.’ There was shuffling in the back row as he spoke. Most of the kids were reaching into their pencil cases or drawing margins; they weren’t even listening. He continued, ‘It isn’t easy being new. Don’t be afraid to say hello to him if you see him around.’ He pointed to an empty chair over in the far-right corner and said, ‘Sean, that’s your desk.’

As I walked over to it, Mr Johnson started writing on the board.

I was sitting next to Jeff. His name was written on his Monvale Vipers pencil case. Dad had told me the Vipers were an A-division soccer team. Jeff was obviously a big fan.

He caught me looking at it. ‘Do you like soccer?’

I didn’t really follow soccer and hardly knew any of the rules. I did want to make a friend on my first day, though, so I said, ‘Yeah.’

‘Cool. Me, too.’

Mr Johnson had used up the entire whiteboard. ‘Is everybody finished with the first line?’ he asked.

We were supposed to be taking notes off the whiteboard and I hadn’t even gotten my pen out yet! ‘Ah, Mr Johnson, I –’

Too late. He didn’t hear me and wiped off his writing.

Jeff angled his book towards me. ‘He writes fast, you’ll get used to it. Just copy me.’

‘Thanks.’

Mr Johnson must have heard us. ‘Silent writing,’ he said, still facing the board.

It was enough to make me almost jump out of my seat. Jeff tried not to laugh.

I opened my book to the second page (my teachers back home always liked title pages) and started copying notes from Jeff’s book. I had almost completely caught up when he whispered, ‘Hey.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Do you want to play with us at recess?’

I was so happy I couldn’t say anything at first. ‘Sure,’ I said, eventually.

‘Cool. You’re on my team.’

I didn’t understand. ‘Your team?’

‘Yeah, my mates and I play soccer and stuff at recess and lunch.’

Of course he wanted me to play – I’d told him I liked soccer. It was a tiny lie, I had wanted him to like me, I didn’t think I’d actually have to prove it. ‘Um,’ I started, ‘before, when I said I –’

Mr Johnson repeated, ‘Silent writing,’ a little louder than before.

I was starting to understand what Huck had meant about the eyes in the back of Mr Johnson’s head. I looked back down at my work. Suddenly, I was dreading recess. I had until then to learn how to play soccer!

_____

When the bell rang, I followed Jeff to the large concrete play area. It was a sea of white hats and schoolkids playing handball, basketball, footy everywhere.

The other boys were waiting for us under the basketball hoop. They all rolled their sleeves up the same way. They stopped talking when we got close. Did they not like me? Or worse, could they tell I didn’t play?

Jeff passed me the ball and I caught it (just).

‘Sean, you can start,’ he said.

We divided into two teams of four. My heart was going crazy. There was no way I could bluff my way through a soccer match and it was way too late for me to admit to lying.

I placed the ball down at my feet. The only thing I knew about soccer was that you were supposed to kick with the inside of your foot. I’d tried once before, but I could never make the ball go where I wanted it to.

‘Come on,’ one of Jeff’s mates said.

I pulled my foot back and shut my eyes. This was it.

‘Sean Summers!’

I opened my eyes. Mr Johnson was crossing the play area.

When he was close enough, he asked, ‘Sean, where’s your hat?’

I glanced around. I was the only person out in the sun without one. I had left it on the kitchen counter at home. ‘I forgot it,’ I said.

‘Come on, can’t he play?’ Jeff pleaded.

Mr Johnson sighed. ‘I know it’s his first day, but rules are rules.’

He pointed over to the other end of the playground, where a group of kids without hats sat in the shade. ‘No Hat, No Play,’ he recited.

It was perfect. Jeff wouldn’t know I wasn’t a soccer fan.

‘But Mr Johnson!’ Jeff pleaded.

Mr Johnson just shook his head.

I handed Jeff back the ball and walked to the shade. From there, I had a perfect view of Jeff and his friends. They used two bins as goals and Jeff was the first to score a point. He threw his arms up and his team celebrated.

I should have been happy Jeff didn’t find me out, but I wasn’t. I had gone from almost playing a game with seven other boys to being the new kid, sitting all alone.

And I missed home more than ever.

I went straight to the No Hat, No Play area at lunch. I had just finished my chicken wrap when someone from Mr Johnson’s class recognised me. ‘You’re the new kid, aren’t you?’ she asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘I’m Karlie.’ She was sitting in the shade too, beside a boy who was on his knees, drawing on the concrete with chalk. ‘That’s Angelo.’

Angelo didn’t look up from his drawing when he said, ‘Hi.’

‘You forgot your hat on your first day?’ Karlie asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘I cut my leg last week, so I can’t run around,’ she said. ‘Want to see it?’

‘It’s gross,’ Angelo added.

Before I could stop her, she pointed to the line of stitches just below her knee. ‘I have my hat in my bag if you wanna borrow it.’

I looked over at Jeff and his friends. They were sitting by the basketball hoop, scoffing down their lunch before they could start playing.

‘I can’t,’ I said.

Karlie didn’t understand. ‘Why not?’

I changed the subject. ‘What are you drawing?’

‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ Angelo said.

I shuffled a little closer. Angelo had drawn a man in a cape with a W stitched to his chest – a superhero I didn’t recognise.

‘It’s Captain Wondersmash,’ Karlie explained. ‘Angelo made him up.’

‘What’s his superpower?’ I asked.

‘Oh, he has plenty,’ Angelo said. ‘Super-strength, obviously. But he can also make force fields and he can read backwards really quickly, which isn’t very useful, but it’s cool.’

Karlie changed the subject. ‘You know, you can go get the hat from my bag if you want,’ she said.

I sighed. I had to tell her. ‘I told Jeff I liked soccer, but I don’t.’

Karlie blinked at me. ‘And?’

‘If I have a hat, he’ll make me play.’

She nodded slowly. ‘And you don’t want to?’

‘I can’t. I’m no good at it.’

She didn’t say anything straight away. Eventually, she asked, ‘Are you going to forget your hat every day?’

Stacking his chair on top of our desk after school, Jeff asked me where I lived.

‘David Street.’

‘Sweet! I’m on Kent Road. That’s on the way. We can walk home together.’

‘Awesome!’

‘Where are you from again?’ he asked as we walked.

‘Bunbury.’

‘What’s it like?’

My life back home was still so fresh in my mind. There were the weekends with Eddie and Christian, going to the movies, the river . . . I really missed it all.

‘Um . . .’ It was hard to squeeze my old life into a sentence. And then I remembered The Bunbury Primary Herald. I used to stay up late writing book reviews and then give them to my old teacher Mrs McKenzie . . .

‘There was a student newspaper at my old school,’ I said. ‘It was by the year six kids, but my teacher put my writing in there sometimes.’

‘That’s cool,’ Jeff said. ‘Do you want to be a reporter when you grow up?’

‘Maybe.’

‘I read the sports section in Dad’s paper sometimes,’ he said. ‘But I wanna play for the Vipers.’ He mimed a kick as we walked. ‘Make sure you pack your hat for tomorrow.’

I thought back to what Karlie said at lunch. I couldn’t forget my hat every day. I had to tell him the truth. ‘I don’t like soccer,’ I blurted.

‘But you said –’

‘I know, but I don’t. I’m not really that into sport.’

‘Oh.’

Jeff stopped walking and I thought I’d blown it. He probably didn’t want to hang out any more. Great. But before I could apologise, he pointed to our left. ‘This is my place,’ he said. ‘Want to come in for a bit?’

I felt relieved. He wanted to hang out even though I said I didn’t like soccer. But I hesitated. Mum had told me to come straight home after school, but my place was only around the corner . . .

‘You can use our phone to call your parents if you want,’ Jeff added.

‘All right.’

His house was a lot like my new one, only there weren’t unpacked boxes everywhere. Jeff rushed straight to the living room up the back. He handed me the cordless phone and started emptying his school bag on the coffee table.

I dialled Mum’s number. She was really serious when she answered. ‘Hello, Tara speaking.’

Ah. She didn’t recognise Jeff’s number. ‘Hey Mum, it’s me.’

Her voice changed. ‘Hi darling, where are you?’

‘A kid from school invited me to his house. Can I stay for a bit?’

Mum said yes, but I had to be home for dinner. Which was easy.

Jeff was sitting on the floor. He had his maths book out. ‘Want to do the homework?’ he asked.

Honestly, I thought we would’ve played video games or something, but work was fine. I was just happy he’d invited me over. I sat down next to him and took out my stuff. We had fifteen questions from class to finish. I only had one left and it didn’t take long.

‘Have you done question five? I think I’ve done it wrong.’ Jeff looked over at my page. ‘Whoa! How did you do it so fast?’

I slid my book up beside his and compared our work. He noticed his mistake and quickly corrected it. ‘Thanks,’ he said, but when I tried pulling my book back, he put his hand on it. ‘Wait a sec.’ He started copying my answer for question six.

I said, ‘Want me to show you how I –?’

‘Nah, this is fine.’

Jeff moved on to question seven. He was just copying my work exactly.

‘Won’t Mr Johnson notice?’ I asked.

Jeff shook his head. ‘Nah, don’t worry.’

But I was worrying, and not only because we might get in trouble. He was stealing my answers. Eddie and Christian never did that.

Jeff pushed my book back over to me. ‘I should get ready,’ he said. ‘Gus and I are meeting at the park soon.’

‘Oh.’ My stay was over already? ‘Can I come?’

He hesitated. ‘We’re practising penalty shootouts, so you probably wouldn’t like it.’

‘I probably wouldn’t,’ I mumbled, feeling rejected.

Jeff hurried off to his room to get changed and I stared down at our work. He had taken my answers, and was now going to hang out with a real friend. One that liked soccer. I felt stupid for thinking he liked me. We were so different.

‘You ready?’ Jeff was standing in the doorway wearing his soccer gear.

‘Yeah, sure.’ I quickly stuffed my books back in my bag.

‘Let’s go,’ he said.

I was glad he was in a hurry, because I wanted to get out of his house as fast as possible.

Mum brought up Jeff when we were setting the table for dinner.

‘Sean was invited to someone’s house after school,’ Mum said to Dad.

‘That was quick,’ Dad said. He gave me a light pat on the back. ‘Good going.’

I forced a smile. I didn’t feel good.

Mum was emptying the Chinese takeaway into bowls when she asked, ‘So . . . do you think you two might hang out some more?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

Dad glanced at Mum, and then back at me. ‘You all right, Sean? What’s the matter, mate?’

‘I’m fine,’ I said.

Mum didn’t believe me. ‘Do you miss Bunbury?’ she asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘Well.’ Dad nodded at Mum. ‘We were thinking it was a big step, moving across Australia, so –’

‘We’re going back?’ I blurted.

Mum smiled and wiped her hands down her front. ‘No,’ she said. She opened the closest cupboard door and took out a bag. She held it out. ‘We got you this.’

I walked over and reached inside. It was a mobile phone. I had wanted one since year three.

‘We thought you might want to keep in touch with your friends in WA,’ Dad said.

It wasn’t moving back home, but it was something. I hugged them both.

‘Go plug it in and wash your hands for dinner,’ Mum said.

I sent Eddie and Christian a text message before bed.

Hey it’s Sean. Mum + Dad got me a phone ☺

Even though it was eight o’clock in Monvale, it was only six o’clock in Bunbury. They were probably doing their homework. But Eddie replied straight away.

Cool! We’re awesome. Christian and I are in line at the movies.

They were at the movies? But it was a school night.

‘Sean, lights out!’ Mum called from down the hall.

Eddie sent another message.

We had no homework so Dad’s brought us to see that new racing movie.

And another.

Christian says hi.

‘Sean, it’s bedtime!’ Mum sounded a little sterner.

I switched off my lamp. The only light in my room came from my phone screen.

I have to go to bed, I texted. It’s eight o’clock.

I kept my phone close and shut my eyes. After a few minutes, it vibrated.

It was a photo of Eddie and Christian in the queue. Underneath, there was the text:

C U ☺

Seeing them made me feel homesick. As good as having a mobile phone was, it wasn’t the same as being there.

The next day Mr Johnson stood at the front of the classroom. ‘Good morning, everyone.’

‘Good morning, Mr Johnson,’ we all said back.

‘Sit down,’ he said as twenty-six chairs were dragged off their desks, ‘and take out last night’s homework. I want you to swap with the person sitting next to you. You’ll be marking theirs.’

Jeff and I swapped books and Mr Johnson took us through the answers. We both got the same mark.

‘What are the odds?’ I asked.

Jeff laughed.

When Mr Johnson said we were going to do more maths, the rest of the class groaned. Except for Jeff. He seemed happy.

He whispered, ‘Just let me . . .’ He didn’t even finish his sentence, but I knew what he meant. He wanted me to let him copy, in class, in front of Mr Johnson. There was no way I was going to do that and get into trouble.

Mr Johnson handed out the questions, and I leaned forward. I was shielding my work so he couldn’t copy it.

‘Psst. I can’t see.’

I didn’t budge.

‘Psssssssssssssst.’

I wasn’t the only one who heard him that time. Angelo twisted around. He could tell what was happening. He mimed elbowing Jeff away.

I couldn’t do that.

I didn’t like being used for answers, but I didn’t want Jeff hating me. I still had to sit next to him every day.

‘Angelo, sit properly. Jeff, eyes on your own work.’ Mr Johnson hadn’t even looked up from his marking. Angelo and Jeff both snapped back.

I was relieved. I kept working silently until Angelo said, ‘Oops.’ He’d knocked his pencil case onto the floor. ‘Sir, can I –?’

‘Quickly.’

Angelo hopped down, and as he gathered his coloured pencils, he rolled a scrunched-up piece of paper towards me. It tapped the leg of my desk.

He smirked. ‘Done,’ he said, getting back up on his chair.

When Mr Johnson wasn’t looking, I quickly leaned down to pick up the ball of paper. I flattened it out.

It was a comic. I recognised the main character instantly. Captain Wondersmash. He was sitting at a desk that was way too small for him, doing his maths. Someone was trying to peek at his answers, but there was a force field around him.

Underneath him, it said: Nobody copies off Captain Wondersmash.

I sniggered softly. I glanced up. Angelo flashed a smile before turning back to his work.

I had my white hat on at recess. It was the first time I was allowed out in the sun, but I walked straight to the No Hat, No Play area to sit with Karlie and Angelo.

‘Hey,’ I said.

‘Hi.’ Karlie squinted up at me. ‘You remembered your hat, what are you doing over here?’

‘I like the shade.’

Angelo was concentrating on a new drawing. He started with a few lines, and kept adding more and more, connecting some and crossing over others until Captain Wondersmash appeared. He was grinning.

‘I liked your comic,’ I said.

‘It was just one tile, that’s nothing. I have heaps at home, proper comic strips like in newspapers,’ Angelo said.

‘Awesome. Can I see them?’

Karlie answered for him. ‘He doesn’t let people see them. I haven’t even seen them.’

Angelo poked his tongue out as he carefully shaded the captain’s cape red. ‘Maybe when they’re ready.’

‘Cool.’

‘I think his cape should be green or something,’ Karlie said. ‘Every superhero has a red cape.’

Angelo looked up. ‘That’s why his cape is red.’

‘But don’t you want him to be different?’

And while Angelo and Karlie argued about what colour Captain Wondersmash’s cape should be, I took my hat off and put it in my pocket.

I had a feeling I wouldn’t need it.

I left my hat in my bag and went to the No Hat, No Play area at lunch. And the lunch after that. And the lunch after that.

I started to feel excited about going to school, because it meant I could see Angelo and Karlie. I still missed Bunbury. But whenever Angelo snuck me a comic in class, or Karlie turned around in her seat and pulled a funny face, I forgot about it.

I liked hanging out with them. They asked Jessica C to trade bag hooks with me and now mine was closer to theirs, so they must’ve liked hanging out with me too.

When we were grabbing our bags on Friday afternoon, Karlie asked, ‘Have you been to High Street yet?’

I nodded. Mum had taken me. We’d bought groceries. I hadn’t explored much, but it didn’t seem too exciting. It was just a regular strip of shops.

‘We should go to Byron’s,’ she said.

‘When?’ Angelo asked. ‘Now?’

‘Yeah, why not?’

I felt a little out of the loop. ‘Who’s Byron?’ I asked.

‘Oh, he’s my dad,’ Karlie explained. ‘But Byron’s is his café. You have to try the burgers he makes. They’re the best.’

‘They are,’ Angelo insisted.

‘Would your parents let you have an early dinner with us?’ Karlie asked.

I sent them both a message. Dad replied first: Ask your mum. Mum, soon after: Yes, I’ll call you when I finish work xx.

It didn’t take us long to get to Byron’s.

The second Karlie opened the door, the man standing by the grill said, ‘Karlie! You hungry?’

‘Yeah, Dad,’ she said.

‘Two of the usual?’ he asked, looking at Angelo.

‘Three, actually.’ Karlie pointed at me. ‘This is the new kid, Sean.’

‘Hi there, Sean,’ her father said. ‘Do you like beetroot?’

‘I love beetroot!’

‘That’s what I like to hear,’ he said.

There was a reserved table up the back. We stashed our bags underneath and sat down. I looked around – the walls were covered with old black-and-white photos of Monvale. I recognised the school and parts of High Street. ‘We had a place like this back home,’ I said. ‘They knew our order there, too.’

‘Do you miss living there?’ Karlie asked.

I did. It was weird going to school without Eddie and Christian. It felt like I was only on holiday and any second it would end and I would go back. ‘I miss my friends,’ I said. ‘Back home, nothing’s different. They’re just doing everything without me and I’m missing out.’

Angelo thought about it for a sec. ‘But we’re about to eat the best burgers in Australia,’ he said.

‘Yeah, we are,’ Karlie said. ‘They should be upset that they’re missing out. Oh, hi Mum!’

Karlie’s mum was carrying three plates over to us. ‘Hi darling,’ she said, setting the plates down on the table and pecking Karlie’s forehead. ‘How was school?’

Karlie shrugged. ‘Normal.’

‘Nothing interesting?’

Karlie had already picked up her burger. ‘Guess not.’

Her mum took a chip off her plate and ate it. ‘And who’s your new friend?’ she asked.

‘This is Sean.’ Karlie said it like it wasn’t a big deal. Five seconds ago, we were just hanging out, and now we were friends. My insides were doing somersaults.

‘Nice to meet you, Sean,’ Karlie’s mum said. ‘I’m Tanya.’

‘Hi.’

‘Did you meet Karlie’s dad, Byron?’ she asked.

Byron heard. He waved his spatula. ‘The boy likes beetroot, so I like him.’

Speaking of beetroot, Karlie had gone bright pink. ‘Guys, you’re embarrassing me.’

‘Really?’ Tanya asked. ‘Angelo?’

‘Mm?’ Angelo pulled his face out of his burger. He had half of it smeared on his cheeks.

‘Are we being embarrassing?’ she asked.

He shook his head.

‘Sean?’ Tanya asked.

I was laughing. ‘No.’

‘See? It’s fine.’ Tanya put her hand on Karlie’s shoulder. ‘But I’ll let you eat.’ As she walked away, she added, ‘It was lovely to meet you, Sean.’

Karlie sighed as her mum disappeared through a door behind us. ‘Well, go on,’ she said to me. ‘Try it.’

I picked up my burger. It was heavier than I thought it’d be. I opened my mouth wide and took a bite. It was . . . incredible. I actually made a ‘mmm’ sound while I chewed.

‘Told you,’ Karlie said. ‘The best ever.’

I rushed to take a second bite, before I thought of something and stopped.

‘What is it?’ Karlie asked.

I took out my phone and aimed it at my plate. ‘I wanna send a pic to Eddie and Christian.’

‘We can get the whole table in,’ Karlie suggested, putting down her burger. ‘Let me try.’

I handed her my phone. She held it out to one side and we all leaned in. ‘On three, say, “Cheese!”’

I sent the pic to Eddie and Christian with a ☺ underneath it.

It didn’t take us long to finish our burgers, but it took us ages to eat our chips. We were starting to feel full!

Mum called when she finished work. She drove by Byron’s on the way home to pick me up. When I got in the car, she asked how my day was.

‘Really good,’ I said.

‘Really good?’ Mum asked. ‘Why?’

I didn’t have to think about the answer. ‘I’ve made new friends.’

‘Good.’ Mum was smiling. ‘That is really good.’

I caught myself smiling too.

At lunch on Monday, Angelo slid a piece of chalk over to me. ‘Draw something,’ he said.

I picked up the chalk and looked over. He’d drawn Captain Wondersmash riding half a motorbike. (It wasn’t finished yet, obviously.) I couldn’t draw anything like that. I had no idea where to start.

Angelo read my mind. ‘One sec.’ He reached over and drew three separate lines – one was curved, one was jagged and one was straight. ‘Try joining them into something,’ he said.

I squinted down at the lines until I thought of something to do with them. I turned the straight one into a nose, the jagged one into a bushy moustache and the curved one into a smile. I added the eyes and eyebrows, a circle around it all, the ears, the hair, the neck . . .

‘A face!’ Karlie said.

‘It’s not very good,’ I said.

Angelo squinted down at it. ‘It’s a good start. Here,’ Angelo shuffled away from his drawing, ‘finish off the bike.’

I shook my head. ‘I can’t.’

‘Just copy my wheel, start with a circle,’ he said, holding out the chalk he’d been using. ‘Come on.’

I crawled closer and grabbed the chalk. Angelo and Karlie watched as I pressed it down on the concrete and started drawing the wheel. My line was bumpy.

‘Go faster,’ Angelo said. ‘It makes your hand steadier.’

I followed his advice and the line became smoother.

‘There you go!’ he said, when I reached my starting point. ‘Now just do what I did before.’

I looked over at his wheel and tried copying the details exactly. Amazing! It actually looked all right.

‘See?’ Angelo said when I’d finished.

I stood up. It did look pretty cool. Angelo grabbed his bottle of water and was about to wash the drawing off when I stopped him.

‘Wait!’ I reached into my pocket and took out my phone. ‘I want to send a photo of it to Eddie and Christian.’

‘We’re not allowed to use our phones at lunch,’ Karlie reminded me.

‘You’re not allowed to use your phone ever,’ Angelo joked.

‘Mum says it’s just for emergencies!’ Karlie said. ‘I have to keep it in my bag.’

‘That’s what everybody’s mum says,’ Angelo laughed. ‘What if an emergency happens when you’re not near your bag?’

‘Um.’ Karlie didn’t have an answer, so she picked up a piece of chalk and started drawing a curly moustache on Captain Wondersmash.

‘Hey!’ Angelo laughed.

I was trying to take the photo. ‘Move your hand, Karlie.’ She did and the camera flash went off. I was about to send the pic when I heard someone call my name across the yard.

‘Uh-oh,’ Angelo and Karlie said at the same time.

I turned around. Mr Johnson was walking towards me. When he was close enough, he held out his hand.

I was busted. ‘Mr Johnson, I –’

‘You know the rules, Sean.’

I handed over my phone and he slid it into his pocket. ‘I’m going to look after it for a little while.’

‘How long?’

Mr Johnson didn’t answer. He continued to walk around the yard.

I looked at Karlie and Angelo for help.

‘Told you,’ Karlie said.

Mr Johnson told me to stay back at the end of the day. Back home, kids spent the day worrying they were going to get in big trouble, then the teacher just let them apologise after class.

As everyone else filed out of the room, I approached his desk. My phone was on it, and underneath I could see a note.

Mr Johnson looked up and waited for the last person to leave. ‘Sean, I’m going to hold onto your phone today. We have very strict rules about phones here at Monvale Primary, and they’re all here on this note.’ He pulled out the piece of paper from underneath the phone. ‘Give this to one of your parents to read and sign and bring it back to me tomorrow.’

What? No . . . this wasn’t how it happened in Bunbury. Mum and Dad would know I’d gotten in trouble! I had never been in trouble at school before. What would my parents do if they found out? Would they ground me? Stop me from going for burgers with Karlie and Angelo after school?

‘But I promise I won’t do it again,’ I tried.

‘And I believe you, but I need the note signed.’

I had no choice. I took the piece of paper from him.

‘Have a nice afternoon, Sean,’ he said.

That was it. I could kiss after-school burgers goodbye. I was as good as grounded. There was no way I was getting my phone back without them seeing that note.

I left for home, but I wasn’t exactly in a hurry. Huck was walking down Thomas Road in front of me, dragging a long, thin tree branch behind him. Huck. The same Huck who had boasted about stealing back his confiscated phone on my first day.

‘Huck!’ I called out.

He looked back and it took him a second to recognise me. ‘New kid! What’s cracking?’

My bag swayed from side to side as I ran to catch up to him. ‘Mr Johnson took my phone.’

‘Told you he was strict,’ Huck said.

‘How did you get yours back?’

Huck dropped the branch by the side of the road. ‘I got into the classroom at lunch. It was in the top drawer of his desk.’

It seemed like a bad idea. We weren’t allowed in the classrooms at lunchtime. There were hall monitors. If they saw me, or if Mr Johnson found out I’d gone through his desk . . .

‘Wait . . . Didn’t Mr Johnson realise the phone was missing?’

‘Oh yeah, I got a detention for it,’ Huck said.

I didn’t want to get into more trouble. So yep, the note was my only option and I had to show my parents tonight.

I took a deep breath. I was already starting to feel nervous.

After school, I lay on my bed and wondered how to bring up the note with my parents. Did I go up to them and talk about it? Or could I just leave it on their bed and hope they saw it after I fell asleep?

I really, really didn’t want to talk about it and risk getting grounded.

‘Is everything all right?’ Mum was standing in my doorway.

‘Yeah,’ I lied. I sat up.

‘Dinner’s ready in five. Wash your hands.’

I hopped up off my bed and reached into my bag. The note was a little crumpled. I stared at it. I was too scared to take it out.

I zipped my bag up instead.

The next day of school was hard. I couldn’t text Eddie and Christian when something funny happened, and they couldn’t text me. I had no idea what was happening in Bunbury, and even though I had Karlie and Angelo, it wasn’t the same.

When I had a phone in my pocket, I could check back whenever I wanted to, but now my life was 100 per cent Monvale, and everything else felt so far away. And I missed it a lot.

Mr Johnson didn’t say anything about the note, which was good. I didn’t want to tell him I’d been too afraid to show my parents. The final bell rang and when Mr Johnson dismissed the class, he called me over.

Bummer. I thought maybe he’d forgotten.

‘Do you have something for me, Sean?’

I stuttered. ‘Uh, I forgot to get it signed.’

Mr Johnson blinked. ‘Are you sure?’ He didn’t believe me. ‘I know you probably don’t want to tell your parents you got into trouble,’ he added. ‘I remember being your age, I was exactly the same.’

‘You got in trouble?’

Mr Johnson nodded. ‘Not too often. But when I did, I was terrified of telling my dad.’

‘How did you do it then?’

‘It got easier,’ he said. ‘Telling him was never as bad as I thought it’d be. Yes, he was disappointed, but he was always on my team. I just had to let him know.’

_____

I had started walking down Thomas Road when I heard my name. I looked up from my feet. Dad was resting against his car.

‘What are you doing here?’ I asked.

Dad looked surprised. ‘I finished work early. Didn’t you get my message?’

‘Oh . . .’ He didn’t know my phone had been confiscated. What Mr Johnson had said was fresh in my mind. Telling Dad wouldn’t be as bad as I thought it’d be . . . I wanted to tell him. But it was scary. Too scary.

‘Yeah, I forgot,’ I lied. I lied. I hadn’t shown him the note, that was bad, but now, I was lying to cover up getting in trouble.

I felt worse when Dad believed me, like someone was tying my stomach into a knot. ‘Well, you’re lucky I found you before you walked home.’ He looked up at the school behind me. ‘It hasn’t changed much.’

‘There’s a new hall up the back, you can’t see it from here,’ I said.

Dad moved his head; yeah, like doing that would make the Monvale Primary building move out of the way. ‘I couldn’t tell you the last time I was here.’ He started counting years on his fingers until he ran out of fingers and gave up.

He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Come with me for a sec,’ he said.

He led me across Thomas Road. He leaned against the fence and I just copied him. We both stared at the E. B. Watson Oval. My heart thumped. I shouldn’t have lied. I should have just told him the truth, about the phone, the note . . . All of it.

‘See that toilet block?’ Dad asked, pointing over at it. ‘The first time I spoke to your mum was over there.’

That sounded romantic, not.

‘Your grandpa ran the sausage sizzle on Saturdays, and I would help him out by giving people sauce. Your mum was there to watch her brother play footy, she came over to buy some food. I knew her name, but that was it, we were in different classes. The first thing I said to her was, “Tomato or barbecue?”’

‘And then you fell in love.’ I made a smooching face.

‘I was so scared I didn’t talk to her again for a year.’ Dad laughed.

We just stood there, quietly. Dad was thinking about the past and I could hear Mr Johnson in my head again. Dad was on my team, I just had to let him . . . ‘Dad?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I . . . didn’t forget your message,’ I said. ‘I didn’t get it.’

‘You sure? Maybe my phone’s broken.’ He went to check but I stopped him.

‘No, I . . . Mr Johnson caught me on my phone yesterday and confiscated it. He said I could have it back if you signed my note, but I didn’t want you and Mum finding out.’

Dad didn’t say anything. He just stared at the oval. I couldn’t tell if he was mad or not.

‘I’m sorry,’ I added.

He sighed and squeezed one of my shoulders. ‘It’s all right.’

I was relieved. Mr Johnson was right. Admitting stuff wasn’t so bad . . . I felt so much better.

‘Where’s the note?’ he asked.

I got it out of my bag and Dad signed it on the bonnet of his car. I ran back to 5J. Well, I ran as far as I could before a teacher in the hall told me to slow down. Mr Johnson was still in the classroom when I got there.

‘Did you forget something, Sean?’

I was out of breath and waving the note in front of me. ‘I got it . . . signed.’

Mr Johnson took it out of my hands. He blinked down at it. ‘Is this really your dad’s signature?’

I nodded. ‘He’s in the car outside, if you want me to –’

I stopped myself. Mr Johnson pulled open the top drawer of his desk and grabbed my phone. He handed it back. ‘You’re not going to use it on the playground?’

I shook my head. ‘I’m not.’

It had only been a day since I’d spoken to Eddie and Christian, but it had felt like forever. I hurried back to the car and switched my phone on. I was putting on my seatbelt when Dad held out his hand.

‘Before you get it back, I want to talk to your mother.’

‘But Dad . . .’

‘No “buts”.’

I sighed and handed it over. And once again, Bunbury was a million kilometres away.

I reckon Mum and Dad were talking about my phone while they were getting dinner ready. I’m not sure, but they went quiet as soon as I entered the room, so . . . they probably were. Nobody brought it up until after dinner, though.

‘So, I heard about your phone,’ Mum said.

‘Your mother and I have decided we should keep it for a little bit,’ Dad added.

‘But . . .’ I pleaded.

It was Mum’s turn to speak. ‘Until you can prove that you’re responsible enough for a phone, then it’s staying with us.’

I sank back into my chair.

Great. Just great. I got my phone back only to lose it again. I hadn’t even had a chance to check my messages from Eddie and Christian before Dad took it off me.

I tried asking, ‘Can I just –?’

‘Nope.’ Mum shook her head.

How was I supposed to prove I was responsible?

I tried cleaning the dishes after dinner. Mum just said, ‘Thanks.’

I tried tidying my room, Mum didn’t even look in when she walked past.

I went to school, listened in class, did all my homework early and read twice as much before bed. But my parents didn’t notice.

What more did I have to do? Wash Dad’s car?

On Saturday, that’s what I did. I scrubbed the outside while he vacuumed the inside, and still, nothing.

‘Hi Sean.’

I looked away from the door I’d been wiping. Karlie and Angelo were standing on the footpath.

‘Hey guys. What’s up?’

Karlie said, ‘We tried calling you because we thought maybe . . .’

I shook my head. ‘Nope. I still don’t have my phone.’

‘Well, do you wanna come over for dinner?’ she asked.

I looked at Dad. He was vacuuming under the driver’s seat.

‘Dad!’ I shouted.

He couldn’t hear me over the roar of the vacuum cleaner. I walked over and switched it off.

‘Dad,’ I repeated.

He turned back. ‘Yeah?’

‘Can I go to Karlie’s for dinner?’ I asked.

‘When will you be back?’

I looked over at Karlie.

‘Seven,’ she said. ‘My mum can drive you.’

‘All right.’ Dad turned around. ‘Switch the vacuum cleaner back on and tell your mother.’

I went inside, told Mum, kissed her goodbye and then hurried out to meet Karlie and Angelo with three icy poles from the freezer. Together, we walked to High Street. Karlie and her family lived on top of the café. There was an entrance between it and the laundromat next door. It opened to a narrow staircase up to their living room.

We went straight to Karlie’s bedroom. Karlie hopped on her unmade bed – she was halfway through the crossword from today’s newspaper. Angelo sat at the computer and resumed his game – he was commanding an army invasion.

I looked around the room. The walls were covered in posters torn out of magazines – mostly of boy bands and actors, girl stuff. She had her own noticeboard. There were photos pinned to it and a small newsletter.

I stepped up closer. It was called The Year Five Times. It reminded me of the school newspaper we had back home.

‘Hey, what’s this?’ I asked.

Karlie looked up.

‘Last term, we made a 5J newsletter for a project. Mr Johnson wanted us to keep going, but it was too much responsibility. We had too much classwork.’

I mouthed the words: ‘too much responsibility’.

‘I can show my parents I’m responsible by making a new issue of the newsletter,’ I said. ‘Don’t you think?’

Karlie hesitated. ‘I dunno,’ she said. ‘It took six of us to do that one issue. I made the crossword on the back.’

I unpinned the newsletter and turned it around. Karlie had filled in the answers.

‘Then let’s do it together,’ I said. ‘Karlie, you could make another crossword. I’d just have to write a main story and maybe put some other stuff around it.’

‘And we could put a Captain Wondersmash comic strip in there,’ Angelo said. He’d paused the game and swivelled around in his chair.

He had never shown anyone his finished comics. ‘Are you sure?’ I asked.

He nodded. Karlie had already reached for a blank piece of paper and started drawing a grid.

If we could make a newsletter by ourselves, then there was no way Mum and Dad wouldn’t think I was responsible enough to have my own phone. And the sooner we did it, the sooner I’d have Christian and Eddie back in my pocket again.

I looked down at the issue of The Year Five Times I was holding. There was a huge headline up the top: STUDENTS DEMAND LONGER RECESS.

If we were going to put together a great newsletter, I’d need a great news story.

I didn’t read before bed that night. Instead, I sat up with my notepad in my lap and tried to think up a story. I had never written a front-page article before. Back in Bunbury, only kids in year six were good enough to write those. How did they come up with their ideas?

‘How was dinner?’ Dad was standing in my doorway.

‘Pretty good. Karlie’s dad made us healthy pizzas.’

Dad came inside and sat on my bed. ‘I’m really proud of you,’ he said, ‘making new friends.’

‘I didn’t really do anything . . . it just happened.’

‘But still, it’s hard moving somewhere new,’ he added. ‘I remember when we left Monvale before you were born, your mum and I were adults and we were still scared. Over time, it got easier, but no matter how much we liked Bunbury, Monvale never stopped being our home.’

I knew how he felt. I couldn’t stop thinking about Bunbury, about what Eddie and Christian were doing, about everything I was missing because I wasn’t there . . .

‘We’re back here,’ Dad continued, ‘and we’re lucky because we have two homes now. Monvale and Bunbury.’

I understood what he meant. I would never have met Angelo and Karlie if we hadn’t moved. I would never have eaten that amazing burger at Byron’s. I would never have attempted making my own newsletter . . .

Dad looked down at my notepad. ‘What are you doing?’

I told him the truth. ‘Nobody wanted the extra responsibility of making a class newsletter, and you and Mum want me to be responsible, so Angelo, Karlie and I are giving it a go.’

‘That’s good.’

‘Do you think, if we did that, I’d . . . get my phone back?’

‘Well . . . I really couldn’t say.’ He was nodding, though.

I laughed. ‘But the thing is, I can’t think of a big story.’

Dad scrunched his brow. ‘Hmm. What have you thought of so far?’

‘Angelo wants soft drink in the bubblers but I don’t think the school would let us,’ I said.

‘I don’t even think it’s possible,’ he said.

It probably wasn’t. I’d never seen a bubbler with lemonade in it before.

Dad tapped his lips. ‘There must be something you could write about . . . Oh! I know!’ He slapped his hand on his thigh. ‘What about the haunted upstairs boys’ toilets?’

I blinked. ‘There are haunted toilets?’

He laughed. ‘Yeah, or at least, that’s what we all used to think back when I was at Monvale Primary,’ he said.

‘What were they haunted by?’ I asked.

Dad shrugged. ‘Nobody ever saw it. We only heard strange noises, doors wouldn’t lock, taps would run and you wouldn’t know who switched them on. It got so bad that most kids were scared to use the toilets, and if you did, nobody believed you. Once, my friends and I wanted to prove we went in there, so we chipped a tile off the wall and took it with us.’

That was definitely better than soft drink in the bubblers. I wanted more information. ‘What happened? Is there still a ghost?’

‘No, one day it just . . . stopped. Maybe the ghost just moved on, or maybe someone fixed the broken doors and the leaky taps,’ Dad said.

‘What was it like being in there?’ I sat up straighter. ‘Can I interview you for the story?’

‘Sure, why not?’

We were eating breakfast the next morning when the doorbell rang. Dad checked his watch – it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet.

‘Who could that be?’ he asked.

Mum sent me to answer the door. When I opened it, Angelo was standing on our welcome mat.

‘Sorry it’s so early, but I couldn’t wait,’ he said. He held up a folder. ‘I have all my Captain Wondersmash comic strips. We can pick the best one for the newsletter.’

‘Cool.’

‘Who is it?’ Mum asked.

‘Angelo, a friend from school,’ I called back.

There was silence, and then, ‘Does he want pancakes? I can make him pancakes. I’m making him pancakes.’

‘Mum’s making you pancakes.’

Angelo laughed. He didn’t complain. They were delicious. After we finished (and Angelo had seconds), we went to my room. He opened his folder and laid the papers out on the desk. Each page had three strips on it. There were almost fifty comic strips to choose from. I didn’t know where to start.

‘Which one is your favourite?’ I asked.

Angelo concentrated for a sec. ‘I’m not sure.’ He lifted up a page and pointed at the middle strip. ‘This one’s pretty good.’

Captain Wondersmash landed a rocket ship on Mars, but didn’t realise he was parked on the edge of a cliff. He opened the door and fell off. I laughed.

‘Do you like it?’ he asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘But what about this one?’ Angelo reached for another paper.

We ended up going through most of the rest, but that first one was my favourite. We both decided it should go in the newsletter. Mum had a scanner for work, so we used it to get the comic onto the home computer.

‘Wow,’ Angelo said. ‘I’ve never seen one of my drawings on a screen before.’

‘And look at this,’ I said, opening the document I had already started. Up the top, I had The Year Five Times written in a fancy newspaper calligraphy font. Below it was the headline SCHOOL TOILETS HAUNTED and my news story.

‘Whoa, is that true?’ Angelo asked. He started reading out aloud. ‘The boys’ toilets next to 4S used to be haunted, a former Monvale Primary School student has revealed.’

‘Yeah, that’s just my dad. He went to our school,’ I said.

‘Wicked,’ Angelo breathed.

I scrolled down to the bottom and copied in Angelo’s comic strip. I zoomed out so we could see the full page. It looked awesome!

‘Your comic rocks,’ I said.

‘Thanks.’ Angelo looked chuffed.

I couldn’t believe how lucky I had been to find Angelo and Karlie. ‘Why were you and Karlie so nice to me when I started at Monvale?’ I asked.

Angelo shrugged. ‘You didn’t have a hat.’

‘But . . . after that.’

Angelo answered straight away, ‘Why not?’

They didn’t have a reason to become friends with me, they just wanted to.

And knowing that felt great. When Mr Johnson took my phone, I thought I couldn’t enjoy Monvale without a way to text Christian and Eddie. But having Angelo and Karlie here made not having a phone seem okay.

Angelo stayed for lunch. We were eating when the doorbell rang. Dad looked straight at me. ‘Expecting any more friends?’ he asked.

I shook my head, but Mum sent me to answer the door anyway. When I opened it, Karlie was standing on our welcome mat.

‘I finished the crossword!’ she said excitedly.

Karlie followed me back inside. Mum had already taken the leftover chicken out of the fridge. ‘Am I making another sandwich?’ she asked.

Karlie hesitated, ‘Um.’

I answered for her. ‘Yeah, thanks.’

After we ate, we scanned in Karlie’s crossword. I couldn’t wait to have a go at solving it . . .

‘We’re done,’ Angelo said as I zoomed out.

‘Not yet.’ I pointed below the crossword. There was enough room for another short article. ‘We have to fill in this blank space at the bottom.’

If I wanted to give the newsletter to Mr Johnson tomorrow, we would have to find something to fit in there that afternoon. I printed out copies for each of us, but before we could start work, the doorbell rang again.

‘Mr Popular!’ I heard Dad say.

It was definitely not for me. I didn’t have that many friends. The three of us stepped out of the study as Mum opened the front door.

It was for me! Jeff was standing in the doorway, holding his maths books, asking if I was home.

‘Yes, he’s here.’ Mum turned around. ‘Sean!’

I was already walking to the door. When I got there, Jeff said, ‘Hey Sean. I was having trouble with our homework and was wondering if you could help.’

I wanted to say no. I wanted to tell him to copy off somebody else.

‘Of course he will, won’t you, Sean?’ Mum asked. That was Mum’s way of saying I should probably help him. But I didn’t want Karlie and Angelo to leave . . .

‘It’s okay, I should go,’ Karlie said. ‘Mum and Dad want me home.’

‘Yeah, I’ve got homework to finish, too,’ Angelo said.

He and Karlie left and I took Jeff to my room. We sat on my bed and I opened up my maths book so he could copy it. The sooner we were finished, the sooner I could get back to work on the newsletter.

But Jeff wasn’t copying it. He hesitated. ‘Actually, could you . . . um . . . show me?’ he asked.

I hadn’t expected that.

‘We’re gonna have a test on it at the end of term and um . . . I want to make sure I can do it,’ he added.

‘Oh . . . okay.’

I turned to a blank page and started to take Jeff through the first question. When I finished, he gave the next question a go. He got it right.

‘Wow, that’s easy,’ he said. He was about to start on the next one when something caught his eye. ‘What’s that?’ he asked, pointing at our unfinished newsletter.

‘We’re making it for the class,’ I said.

‘Cool,’ Jeff said. ‘Can I read it?’ He lifted up the paper and blinked at the headline: SCHOOL TOILETS HAUNTED.

‘Is that for real?’ he asked.

I nodded.

‘Cool,’ he repeated.

Jeff read the entire article. I expected him to stop, but he kept going. He traced his eyes over the comic strip and laughed at the end. (I made a mental note to tell Angelo.) He flipped the page and looked over the crossword.

‘That one’s “football”,’ he said, pointing at 3 Across: an eight-letter word for ‘soccer’.

He got to the bottom of the page. He checked the front, and then turned to the back again. ‘I like it,’ he said, ‘but you need a sports section. Every newsletter needs a sports section.’ He pointed at the blank part of the second page. ‘The scores from this weekend’s games could go on the left, and then you could write about a player of the week on the right.’ He gave me back the paper. ‘It’s just an idea.’

And it was a good one. I looked down at the blank space on the page and imagined it filling up like he’d described. That would complete our newsletter. But I didn’t know how to get the scores from the weekend, let alone how to pick a player of the week.

‘Jeff?’ I asked.

‘Yeah?’ He looked up from his maths work.

‘Could you help with that section?’

His face lit up. ‘Sure thing!’

It didn’t take Jeff long to get the sports scores. He called his friends in different teams and found out how they went. He picked Matt K as his player of the week – Matt scored an awesome penalty that helped Jeff’s team win their game yesterday.

We typed it up on the computer and zoomed out. Two pages, completely finished!

The next day, when the rest of the class went out for recess, I approached Mr Johnson’s desk and handed him the newsletter.

‘You did this?’ he asked, looking up.

‘With Karlie, Angelo and Jeff’s help, yeah,’ I said. ‘Karlie said no one else wanted to do it and I worked on the newsletter at my old school, so I thought I’d give it a go.’

He read my headline and smiled. ‘Haunted? Who said that?’ he asked.

‘A good journalist protects his sources.’ I had heard that in a movie once.

Mr Johnson laughed. ‘Well, I look forward to reading it.’

He must have liked it because when the class had come back after recess, Mr Johnson had made photocopies for everyone.

From my spot at the back of the room, I could watch the entire class reading it. I felt proud, like there was nothing I couldn’t do. Nothing we couldn’t do. I hadn’t made the newsletter alone. Angelo and Karlie turned around in their seats to smile at me and I could tell they felt the same way.

We were a great team.

_____

After dinner that night, Mum placed my phone down next to my cutlery. I didn’t understand. I hadn’t told her about the newsletter . . .

‘Your teacher called me today,’ she said. ‘He was very happy with you. He said you took on a lot of responsibility, so your father and I thought it was time you got that back.’

Dad was smiling as I quickly switched the phone back on.

It started vibrating as the week’s messages came through. Most of them were from Christian and Eddie.

Today had been great, but it felt good to hear from the others back home.

My other home.

I didn’t want to miss out on their messages again. When I walked into school the next day, I switched my phone off and put it in my bag. On my way to class, I passed the principal’s office. Huck was sitting on the seat opposite the door.

‘New kid!’ he said as I approached. ‘Did you get your phone back?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I told you Mr Johnson’s tough.’

‘Yeah, but . . . I’m having fun.’ It had been the first time I’d said it out aloud.

Huck was surprised that someone could have fun in Mr Johnson’s class. ‘You are?’

‘Yeah. Monvale isn’t too bad.’

Actually, it was pretty awesome.

Will had stuff happen to him at school too.

What he remembers best is forgetting his hat one day in year five. He had to sit in the No Hat, No Play area, but there, he met his best friend for the first time. The next day, he left his hat in his bag on purpose, just like Sean.

www.willkostakis.com

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THE BEGINNING

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