(who was captain), Daniel, Liam and myself.
“There will be two matches in progress this afternoon,” Mr. Happy told the mass of students (large as ever, given that all the year-nine classes had PE at the same time). “The team not playing is dismissed and can go do whatever they like—even go home,” he added, and suddenly no one was interested in playing soccer anymore. “On the far side of the oval will be Jim Rich’s team against Sally Hipmore’s team. On the near side of the oval will be Jordan Bolton’s team against Craig Hardy’s team. Okay people, let’s go!”
Within ten minutes, we were playing ball. It ended up being a two-all draw, but it was good in that it took all our minds off more serious matters. Peter scored first with a slip around an opponent, which even I was impressed with. It was good to see that he hadn’t lost his touch over the summer (we had all played soccer during the year—all us boys except James and Daniel, anyway). Robyn Lloyd kicked the next goal from a penalty, levelling the scores, but within minutes David displayed some extremely nimble skills for a tall guy in scoring our second. Troy Menora goaled within minutes of time, but only because James, who was the goal keeper, let his guard down, clearly thinking we’d done enough to win.
The bell rang not long after the end of the game, and we all hurried back to the locker bay to get our stuff. If it weren’t for the massive sign right over our lockers, we might have forgotten that we were supposed to meet with Hall first. So grudgingly, Peter, Harry, Simon and I said goodbye to James and the others and set off for Room 12, where we were to serve our detention.
The rest of our fellow trouble makers were already waiting outside the room when we arrived. Justin Time and Tulip Naval were whispering together, and I had a feeling I knew what they were talking about. Between the two of them, they could be as difficult as me, Peter and the twins all put together—if they were on their game, anyway. I certainly hoped they were on their game today, because as far as I was concerned, Hall deserved everything coming to him for the way he’d behaved the week before. Behind them, George Tuck and Belinda Pensinger, who were clearly an item, were locked in what looked like a fierce match of tonsil hockey. I looked away, not wanting to be reminded of my own love life, or lack thereof.
“Any ideas, you two?” Peter asked Justin when we reached them.
He shook his head. “We think we’ll be able to think of something once we get in there,” he said, “but it’s difficult to plan for Hall.”
I knew what he meant. A few weeks ago we had been trying to plan the same thing, but none of our plans had worked, and we’d eventually gone back to spontaneity, which always seemed to be our greatest weapon. The only certainty was that we had to do something; after our history with Hall, sitting back and letting him bully us was not an option.
“Just in time, here he comes,” said Tulip, looking over Simon’s shoulder and down the hall.
“I’m right here, bitch,” laughed Justin, slapping Tulip on the back.
Indeed, Hall was coming down the hall, pushing a trolley in front of him. The trolley was loaded with paper.
“Uh-oh,” said Harry, staring at the trolley.
“What?” I asked, not catching on to what the rest of them were thinking.
“Eight,” said Hall, counting us as he reached us. “Excellent … excellent.”
“You won’t be saying that once we’re through with you,” said Justin under his breath, while the rest of us sniggered.
“What’s that?” Hall asked, scowling.
“Oh, nothing, sir,” said Justin brightly. Hall looked around at the rest of us, all trying to hide our smirks, and scowled.
Then he turned and unlocked the door and we all filed into the room. Hall pushed the trolley to his desk while the rest of us gathered around, waiting for our instructions.
“I have tasks for each of you,” he said. “Now you two,” he looked at Harry and Simon, “your job will be to sort through these newspapers, writing page-long summaries for as many articles as you can get through. Bring each to me as you finish them, so I can correct your spelling, grammar and overall style. If it is insufficient, you will do it again. Okay?”
“That’s not okay,” said Simon dully, staring at the mountain of newspapers Hall was indicating.
“Excellent,” said Hall cheerfully. “Now, get to it. Just take the stack into that corner and face away from the rest of the room so that the rest of these (he indicated me and Peter in particular) don’t distract you.”
“You say it as though we’re objects, sir,” said Peter, grinning cheekily.
“That remains to be seen,” said Hall darkly.
Harry and Simon looked at each other, downcast, before taking the trolley of terror with them to the corner of the room. When they got there, Harry looked around at Hall and said, “Er—where do we get the paper from?”
“Pensinger!” Hall snapped at Belinda.
She jumped and pulled away from George, whom she had been pashing in clear view of the room. “What?” she said, looking annoyed that she’d been interrupted.
“I want you to go down to Room 74 and bring back a box of A4 paper,” Hall answered. “If the room is locked—which it shouldn’t be—go and ask for a key from the office. If anyone asks what you’re doing, tell them Mr. Hall sent you. If they try to stop you or don’t believe you, come back here and I’ll give you a note of permission. Go now.”
Belinda scowled, but left the room, looking back and blowing a kiss at George as she went. The moment the door had closed, Hall rounded on George, who’d been looking awkward the whole time.
“And you, Tuck, for your cheek, can sort through these.”
He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a large box, which he handed to George.
“What is it?” George asked.
“Items I have accumulated from various troublesome students over the years,” Hall told him, grinning evilly. “And from other places, I might add.”
“What do I do with them?” asked George, taking the box.
“Retrieve the clean items, dispose of the dirty ones. I never took notice of which was which over the years. I want a nice, clean collection when you’re finished. Anything you need, let me know,” said Hall, before he turned to Justin and Tulip. “Now, I don’t want you two anywhere near each other. Time, you sit over there, in that seat (he pointed to Harry’s usual seat) and Naval, you sit there (he pointed to a seat on the opposite side of the room). You will both be writing lines, 150 in fact, and you can leave when you have finished. I will tell you what to write shortly.”
Not listening to the teacher, I had followed George to his seat, interested to see what was in the box. When he opened it, I saw something that made my stomach twist in revulsion. The box was full of unwrapped, twisted condoms. What had Hall said? Retrieve the clean ones? Oh God…
“This is harassment,” said George, looking around at Hall in disgust. “You expect me to touch other guys’—”
Hall just wiggled a finger at him. “It’s no worse than what the rest of us had to watch you doing just now, Tuck.”
“Can I at least have a pair of rubber gloves?” George asked.
“Gloves?” Hall repeated nastily. “Are you a man or what? Afraid to get your fingers dirty? No, I think you’ll need good, sensitive fingers to determine the state of each one.”
George was red with rage, but Hall wasn’t done with him. “Anyone would think you’d never seen one of those, judging by your reaction; still got a way to go with Pensinger?”
“You leave her out of this!” snapped George. He looked ready to punch Hall, and I would