Mr Bambuckle's Remarkables Go Wild Page 5

  BOOM!

  ‘The open sky …’

  BOOM, BOOM!

  ‘Victoria in a tent nearby …’

  CRASH, BOOM, CRASH!

  ‘She cuts a hole in her tent …’

  BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!

  ‘Turns on the torch she rents …’

  CRASH, CRASH, BOOM!

  ‘She shines the light at my eyes …’

  BOOM, BA-DUM BOOM, BOOM!

  ‘I can’t see, am I going blind?’

  CRASH! CRASH!

  ‘I’m blindly in love.’

  BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!

  I did it! I actually finished a song. I managed to complete an entire tune without becoming distracted. Uncle Rick was wrong – I have got what it takes!

  Mr Bambuckle’s tent zips open and he steps outside. The early morning sun shines on his face. ‘That, dear Damon, was the most wonderful way to start the day. I’ll be sure to let my rockstar cousin in Iceland know about your tune.’ He blinks brightly at my improvised drum kit. ‘And a splendid way to … snare a girl’s heart, I might add.’

  I can hear the contented sighs of my classmates as they begin to emerge from their tents.

  ‘Best sleep I’ve had in months,’ says Scarlett.

  ‘I slept like a baby,’ says Harold.

  ‘I slept like a log,’ says Albert.

  ‘I slept on a log,’ says Carrot. ‘It was surprisingly comfortable.’

  I can only shake my head in jealous dis-belief. Even Miss Frost, who has returned from sleeping in her car, is looking fresh. Her silver hair and diamond bobby pin glisten in the morning light.

  Victoria is the last to surface. ‘Good morning, everyone. What a gorgeous sunrise.’ She plucks a piece of blue wool from her pyjamas, before spotting me and the pots and pans. ‘Oh, did I miss something?’

  Without the distraction of hammering Mr Bambuckle with rules and guidelines from her folder, Miss Frost’s focus was well and truly on the children that morning.

  ‘You shall not sit any closer than two metres from the fire.’

  ‘Brush your teeth again – bacon and eggs are a nasty combination and the taste should be scrubbed away.’

  ‘Tidy your tents or face my wrath.’

  ‘Wear two pairs of socks as you’ll be doing a lot of running today.’

  ‘Go to the toilet before we start … Not on the side of a tree, Hairball McDarryl. This isn’t the Scottish highlands – detention back at school!’

  The students looked to Mr Bambuckle for help. His attention, however, was with Dodger. He was whispering mischievously to the blue jay, who fluttered excitedly on his shoulder.

  Miss Frost signalled for the students to gather on the logs around the smouldering fire. ‘A minimum of two metres,’ she reminded them. ‘And where are Vex and Peter?’

  ‘They’ll be sitting this activity out,’ explained Mr Bambuckle, who had a knack for knowing when to intervene. His voice carried well-timed authority, and the assistant principal didn’t press further. Peter was free to be absent, and Vex was free to continue resting.

  Miss Frost’s icy stare subdued the students into complete silence. ‘I have a … challenge for you – one that will cover a number of outdoor education outcomes, as well as test your orientation skills.’

  Mr Bambuckle rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

  ‘I have not forgotten the abhorrent crime one of you inflicted on me when I taught in room 12B,’ continued Miss Frost. She looked directly at Scarlett. ‘You there, stand up.’

  ‘Me?’ said Scarlett.

  ‘Who else do you think I’m speaking to?’

  Scarlett rose, biting her bottom lip.

  ‘I am not so easily fooled,’ said Miss Frost. ‘I know it was you who schemed to get rid of me, Starlett. I know it was you who caused all sorts of strange things to happen when you were on the computer. I know it was you who zapped me to Ecuador.’

  Scarlett could only tremble in reply. Everything the assistant principal said was true. She had used a computer program – PhotoCrop – to transport Miss Frost to South America.

  ‘Do you deny it?’ said Miss Frost.

  Scarlett glanced at Mr Bambuckle, and even though she only brushed his gaze, there was something about the sparkle in his green eyes that told her to take heart. ‘It’s true,’ she said boldly.

  The rest of the students wriggled uncomfortably, terrified of the outcome of this admission.

  ‘That wasn’t so hard, was it?’ hissed Miss Frost. ‘And now, I have you right where I want you.’

  Mr Bambuckle winked at Scarlett, who was looking pale at the unfolding nightmare.

  ‘Back to the task at hand,’ said Miss Frost, now addressing everyone. ‘It would appear your classmate is in deep trouble. There will be severe consequences for her actions.’

  Scarlett’s face drained of all colour.

  ‘But since I too can enjoy a good game,’ said Miss Frost, ‘I’m giving you a chance to save your classmate. If Starlett is to be spared from punishment, one of you must defeat me in a challenge.’

  Mr Bambuckle could barely contain his grin. He fidgeted with the excitement of a schoolboy before his first football match.

  Myra raised her hand.

  ‘Yes, Miley?’

  ‘It’s Myra. What exactly is the challenge?’

  Miss Frost’s diamond bobby pin flashed coldly. ‘The challenge is plain and simple, and it involves a touch of technology – something I am beginning to grow quite fond of. How ironic that Charlotte’s fate will depend on technology …’

  ‘But what do we have to do?’ pressed Myra.

  ‘I will give each of you a tracking band to wear on your wrist. You’ll then have a ten-minute head start to run off into the bush. After that time, I will come searching for you, tracking your signals. Consider it a giant game of hide and seek, with an element of tag. If I find you and catch you, you’re out.’

  ‘That’s not fair,’ said Sammy. ‘All you have to do is follow the GPS signals.’

  A wicked grin spread across Miss Frost’s face. ‘Then you will need to keep moving at a rapid pace.’

  Sammy crossed his arms.

  ‘If I track all of you down before noon,’ continued Miss Frost, ‘Scarborough will be disciplined severely. However, if I fail to catch just one of you, she will be spared. You must stay within the borders of the broader camp site – no crossing the river or any roads. Those are your boundaries.’

  Mr Bambuckle was now bursting at the seams. ‘The best part is,’ he said, ‘Miss Frost was a state champion in athletics at high school. She even captained the National Team!’

  Miss Frost’s jaw dropped. ‘How could you possibly know that?’

  ‘I know everything,’ said Mr Bambuckle.

  ‘How is that a good thing?’ said Sammy. ‘She’ll win easily!’

  The blue suit of the teacher dazzled the way it did before something unusual happened. ‘It’s a good thing,’ he replied, ‘because it will make your victory even sweeter.’

  Miss Frost dismissed the possibility of Mr Bambuckle’s remark with a smirk. ‘We’ll see about that.’

  Two students, meanwhile, sat tapping small sticks on the logs they sat on. Albert and Myra had entered into a private conversation.

  I clip the GPS band around my wrist. I can feel the frantic beat of my pulse beneath the smooth plastic. I want to take it off but Miss Frost would kill me.

  The band reads 9.00. There are three hours until noon.

  I join my classmates at the start line. When the signal sounds, we’ll have ten minutes to escape into the bush. Then we’ll be tracked down like wild animals. It’s terrifying, but it’s our only chance to save Scarlett.

  Poor Scarlett. Punishments shouldn’t be decided by cruel games. The worst part is that Miss Frost seems to be taking some kind of sick pleasure out of the situation.

  She stalks back and forth behind the line. Her last whisper puts goosebumps on the back of my neck. ‘When I fi
nd you – and I will find you – you must return immediately to the main camp site.’

  Mr Bambuckle applauds from his seat under the twisted gum. ‘What fun!’

  Miss Frost walks around in front of us. She has swapped her teaching outfit for an equally stylish white tracksuit. Her muscles are surprisingly toned. She looks like one of the senior athletes Coach Wyatt is always pointing out to me at training. ‘That could be you if you work hard enough,’ he says.

  It certainly seems like Miss Frost has been training hard.

  It could just be me, but I notice a dreamy expression on Mr Bambuckle’s face every time he looks at her. It reminds me of the way Damon looks at Victoria.

  Miss Frost blows a whistle. That’s our signal.

  We take off into the bush, tearing through the undergrowth as fast as we can. Before a minute is up, we’ve separated into different groups.

  I can hear Evie sniffing back tears as she tries to keep up with me and Sammy at the front of the pack. I want to go back and help her, but it’s best we split up.

  Myra is back to the left. I can hear her crashing over sticks and bushes and making as much noise as Damon’s early morning serenade.

  I grit my teeth and up the pace, thoughts of Scarlett driving me on. I pray Miss Frost doesn’t come after me first. Sammy swerves off to the right. Maybe she’ll go for him. Then again, maybe she’ll target me because I’m the fastest.

  After a few more minutes I’m on my own. I stop and listen. I can hear distant rustles as my classmates scamper away in different directions. I can’t see anyone, so I sit down and gather my breath.

  Something yellow grabs my attention. A flower. It’s sitting on top of a pointy rock a couple of metres away. The odd thing is, it’s not attached to a stem. Someone must have placed it there. I crawl over – being sure to keep low to the ground – and pick it up. It’s fresh.

  I spot an identical flower wedged between two thin branches in a small tree. I creep over and pluck it out. Then I slip the flowers around my headband. They’re pretty.

  There’s a third yellow flower on the ground just beyond the small tree. I get down again and move over to pick it up.

  The chain of yellow is broken by something blue. A feather sparkles at the base of a much larger tree. I shuffle over and examine it, resting my back against the broad trunk of the gum. The blue plume glints and glistens, so I add it to my headband along with the third flower.

  ‘No!’ A shout cuts through the silence. It’s Myra. Her voice is tight with fear. Worse than that, she’s nearby. Too close for comfort.

  I peer out from behind the tree and freeze. Myra is only a bus length away from where I’m sitting and she’s cornered by Miss Frost. The teacher reaches out a hand and tags her on the shoulder.

  Myra looks devastated. She takes off her GPS band and hands it to Miss Frost, who slips it into her pocket and points in the direction of camp. Myra’s shoulders slump forward as she trudges away.

  Miss Frost stays still. She studies her GPS tracker and surveys the area. She must know I’m close. I pull back behind the tree and hold my breath.

  Footsteps.

  Slow and steady. Getting closer. So this is what it feels like to be hunted.

  I dare not move a muscle. She’s on the other side of the tree. I’ve been caught far too early and I’m furious at myself for stopping to rest. Coach Wyatt would kill me for doing something like this. He’s always telling me to push myself to new limits. ‘Rest comes after exhaustion,’ he says.

  The footsteps suddenly take off. I turn to see Miss Frost running swiftly towards the river. She’s spied Victoria and Harold, who are huddled behind a tall rock. They should have split up.

  I exhale slowly. But I can’t understand why she didn’t catch me when I was so close. I check to make sure the band is working. Its tiny lights flash across the screen.

  Perhaps Miss Frost wanted two for the price of one. In either case, I stand up and dash away before I can be seen.

  I slow to a trot, eyes peeled. I’ve been running for a few minutes now and should have put some distance between myself and Miss Frost.

  Scarlett deserves better than this. She doesn’t need the stress of this stupid game. Nobody does. Miss Frost was so hard on her back there, pressuring her into admitting what she did. It’s not fair.

  I ease to a stop and check out my surroundings. Nothing but trees. I’ve lost sight of the river and haven’t come across any roads. I sit for another quick rest.

  Coach Wyatt would be at me for taking a break. He’d be urging me on, telling me to lift my game. Telling me I’ll never make the State Team if I don’t have a mind and body of steel.

  The State Team.

  My dream.

  From the moment I started training with Coach Wyatt I’ve had one goal – to make the State Team. It’s harder than it sounds. Everyone at school expects me to get there, but they haven’t met the other athletes at my club. I’m not sure I’ll ever be good enough. Especially when I suck at hurdles.

  Hurdles.

  My dream crusher.

  Hurdles are literally the barrier blocking me from moving to the next level in my career. That’s what Coach Wyatt calls it – my career. ‘You must train harder if you want to progress your career,’ he says. ‘The hurdles are stopping you from moving forward. It’s all about your front leg. You need to raise it higher.’

  Apparently, he can’t do much more with me until he sees improved hurdling. I don’t know if I’ll ever get there to be honest. I just can’t seem to get my front leg high enough.

  Coach Wyatt thinks it’s a physical thing, but I know it’s all in my head. I tripped on a hurdle as a young runner. Badly. I chipped a bone in my elbow and spent six weeks with my arm in a sling. It hurt like crazy. The pain is seared into my memory and I wonder if I’ll ever get over my fear of hurdling.

  The time on my GPS band reads 9.26. Still over two and a half hours of game time remain.

  A flash of colour catches my eye. It’s Damon and he’s running straight towards me. ‘Get out of here!’ he yells. ‘Miss Frost is coming!’

  I turn and run, joining Damon in a frantic scramble. We sidestep trees, weaving our way through the bush. I can hear Miss Frost gaining on us. She’s some athlete.

  We burst into a clearing, panting for breath, and stop dead in our tracks. The river is straight ahead – it’s wound around and cut us off. There are dozens of large boulders on the right, thick forest on the left.

  Having the same idea, we take off to the left, but Damon’s clumsy strides clip my heel. I trip and face plant into the ground.

  Damon slips through a gap in the forest and vanishes from sight.

  Light footsteps reach the clearing and I look up to see Miss Frost standing about ten metres away. ‘Well, well, well,’ she says quietly. She’s not even puffed. ‘I wasn’t expecting Damien to lead me to the famous Milly Amsterdam.’

  ‘Please,’ I beg, thinking of Scarlett. ‘I don’t care that you get our names wrong. Just give me another chance.’

  Miss Frost laughs. It’s a surprisingly musical laugh – the type you would expect to hear at a dinner party or in a conversation with friends. Then her voice returns to a murderous whisper. ‘You must have rocks in your head if you think I’d give you a second chance.’

  She glances at her GPS tracker and then left at the forest. ‘This is far too easy. I should have given myself less time –’

  But I’ve leapt up and ducked behind one of the boulders to the right. I scan the landscape frantically. There’s an opening between two more boulders further back and I squeeze through them. I’m not going down without afight.

  Miss Frost’s whisper seeps through the stone. ‘I can see you on my tracker, Mildred …’

  I edge back silently, moving further into the labyrinth. My shoulder brushes against something yellow. It’s a flower – loose on the stone – just like the flowers in my headband. I grab it and press further into the maze, flattening my stomach to
fit between two more boulders.

  The ground starts to slant away. I drop to my haunches and follow the slope, sliding under a gap in the rocks. I almost put my hand down on another yellow flower but see it just in time. I add it to the growing collection in my headband and continue crawling forward.

  ‘You do make the chase more fun,’ a whisper teases. It floats through the space between the rocks behind me. ‘If only Alfred had put up such a fight. The silly child curled into a pitiful ball when I found him. But you, Misty … you turn the hunt into sport.’

  There’s a small cave carved into the base of one of the boulders. A blue feather lies at the entrance. I roll into the crevice, clutching the plume.

  ‘The signal has dropped out …’ The whisper is frustrated. ‘Where did she go?’

  I press myself flat against the cold rock, as far into the hollow as I can.

  Miss Frost’s white sneakers suddenly fill the narrow entrance of the cave, blocking the light. She’s so close I can see the pattern in her silver laces. ‘I know you’re around here somewhere,’ she says. I can hear her tapping the tracker. ‘Work, you blasted thing.’

  I hold my breath, tensing every muscle in my body. My fingers squeeze the quill of the feather.

  The shoes shuffle on the leaf litter. I can read the branding on the side and I pray she doesn’t kick me in the face. ‘She can’t have gotten far.’

  I shut my eyes, too terrified to watch. If Miss Frost looks down, she’ll see where I’m hiding. Then all she’d have to do is reach in and tag me. There’s no escape.

  ‘Perhaps she went through that gap,’ she mutters to herself.

  I pray it’s not the gap I’m hiding in.

  Please don’t look down, please don’t look down.

  The shoes take two slow steps and stop again. I can hear Miss Frost pressing buttons on the tracker.

  I dare not exhale.