Higher Learning Page 5

  “Sorry, Charlie,” he said condescendingly. “I actually worked as the secretary in the Sydney branch before I transferred here. The phone rings off the hook there. I’m sure I can handle it in little old Gerongate.”

  I swallowed my rising anger with some difficulty. “Wow. I guess you could say this is your secre-territory, then.”

  “I hate puns.”

  “I think you mean you hate funs.”

  “Especially bad ones.”

  My face fell into an open-mouthed scowl. “That’s ridiculous. Everyone knows that the most tenuous puns are the best ones.”

  He looked at me with thinly concealed disgust. “Well, I’m doing fine here. You can get back to whatever other job you’re doing in that ridiculous outfit.”

  “It’s a school uniform, you idiot. The shirt literally has a crest on the pocket.”

  “Right, of course. How fitting that someone so childish should be wearing a school uniform.”

  I narrowed my eyes, trying to keep the rising red out of my vision. “I’d better get back to busting meth dealers, anyway. Have fun minding the phones, Josh.”

  “It’s John!” he called, but I’d already turned and walked away. Hah! I won.

  I knocked on the door to Tim’s office and he let me in.

  “Where have you been?” he asked. “We’re going to be late now.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I can just say I had to pick up my timetable from the office and that I got lost looking for the room. It would be weirder if I was on time on my first day.”

  Tim nodded slowly. “I guess. OK, we need to get you wired up. I’m a little weirded out by the idea of touching your boobs – especially when you’re wearing that uniform – so you’re going to have to do it yourself.”

  He handed me a wire and what looked like a small battery pack. “Right. What do I do?”

  “You turn and face that wall and then unbutton your shirt.”

  “We should have gotten Adam to do this,” I said, turning and unbuttoning.

  “I don’t even want to know your reasoning behind that.”

  I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see. “I mean because he’s seen it before when he and I got locked up in that cool room in our underwear.”

  Tim didn’t answer immediately. “He left that detail out when he recounted the story to me.”

  “Oh.”

  “Anyway, you need to tape the wire to your chest with the mic facing up towards your mouth.”

  “Where on my chest?” I asked.

  He sighed. “Between your boobs. Obviously between your boobs.”

  “The cleavage cloaks the camera with its curves!” I said.

  Tim was silent so I glanced at him over my shoulder and saw that he was giving me a look of stunned horror.

  “It’s a quote,” I said. “From Brooklyn 99.”

  “Right,” he said slowly, not looking any less uncomfortable. “Well, honey, I hate to say it, but I don’t think you’re going to be cloaking too much with those curves, so please keep your shirt buttoned to a school-appropriate level.”

  “I don’t really know if I’m doing this right,” I said.

  There was a knock at the door and the person on the other side opened it without waiting for a response. I glared at Adam as he walked in.

  “What are you two still doing here?” he asked.

  “We’re having some wire issues,” I said.

  “Tim, are you actually making her do it herself?” said Adam in disbelief.

  “It – it was just too weird,” Tim replied.

  Adam rolled his eyes, took the tape from Tim and grabbed my shoulders, turning me towards him. He adjusted the microphone and taped it down (while I did a very good impression of someone who wasn’t at all fazed by Supermodel Adam’s hands brushing my boob skin), then he clipped the battery pack to the back of my skirt. The skirt was high waisted so my shirt fell straight over it, obscuring the pack, and the skirt was dark enough that the pack wasn’t visible through the white blouse.

  “Button up,” Adam ordered me, then turned to Tim. “Sound check?”

  Tim nodded and put the headphones on.

  “The cleavage cloaks the camera with its curves,” I whispered.

  Tim removed the headphones in disgust. “Yes, unfortunately it’s working fine.”

  “Good,” said Adam. “Now go to school.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Tim handed me my timetable in the car. As we drove out of the car park, I asked, “What year am I in?”

  “Ten,” said Tim.

  “Right. That makes sense based on my fake Facebook age. I’m sixteen, apparently.”

  “And you don’t act a day older.”

  I made a noise of annoyance and rolled my eyes.

  “You’re still a teenager,” he said. “You can’t be offended by that.”

  “While I’m still a teenager I reserve the right to be offended by whatever I want.”

  Tim glanced across at me, nodding. “Of course. It’s your birthday soon, right?”

  “Yes. Then I will officially be too old for this shit.”

  Tim laughed. “It’s not going to be so bad. At least you get to do stuff. I have to sit in an office all day and listen to you talk to high school students in between long stretches of silence while you do your class work.”

  I frowned. “I don’t know what kind of school you went to, but there has never been a long stretch of silence at Gerongate High. At least not in living memory.”

  Tim smiled. “OK, so I get to listen to your boring conversations all day long. Great.”

  I looked at the timetable. “OK, it looks like I have history first up. Year 10... So that should be wars and human rights, right?”

  “Isn’t that basically all history?”

  I cocked my head. “Yeah, I guess it is. OK, I should be fine. First up I’ll need to sign in at the office, then I’ll head to the classroom, scope it out, and sit with Chelsea.”

  Tim nodded. “Solid plan. OK, I’m going to drop you off a block away so that no one sees us together. I’m meant to meet the principal in the library. Where is that?”

  “Top floor of the big building in the middle of the school. You can’t miss it,” I said. “It’s the room with all the books.”

  “Thanks for that, honey. Maybe I’ll drop you off two blocks away.”

  “Please don’t,” I said. “My legs are like jelly. Old Sport made me run so fast this morning and then that dance class –”

  “Back up a second. Who exactly did you say made you run fast?”

  “Uh...”

  Tim grinned as he pulled up by the curb. “You don’t know his name, do you?”

  I sighed. “No. What is it again? I wasn’t listening properly when we met and it just –”

  “I’m not telling you,” said Tim. “You’re a fully licensed PI now. You should be able to find that kind of thing out for yourself.”

  “I am finding out for myself. By questioning an informant.”

  “Nice try,” he said. “Now get out of the car. You need to get to class. If you leave it any longer you’re going to miss history.”

  I sighed and stepped out, beginning the trudge to hell on earth. It was awful. The closer I drew, the more flashbacks I had to high school. It hadn’t been the best time of my life, and not just because of my long-standing feud with James. My brother had disappeared when I was 14 and he was 16, and going back to school wasn’t making me feel any better about the fact that it had been more than five years and we still didn’t know what had happened to him.

  I took a deep breath and tried to focus on the task at hand. Sign in at the front desk, go to my history class, befriend Chelsea. I entered the school through the front gate, marked my name off at the office, then continued on to the classroom. The door was shut when I got there, so I knocked and waited. The teacher was someone I didn’t recognise. She smiled at me expectantly.

  “I’m Charlotte,” I said. “I think this
is my class – history?”

  The teacher nodded her head. “Yes, it is. I’m Ms Peters. Come in, take a seat!”

  She opened the door wider and I walked inside, quickly glancing around the room. I located Chelsea almost immediately, but she was sitting between two other girls and there were no spare seats near her. Instead I sat next to a jock-looking guy who smelled slightly of BO but mostly of Lynx body spray. He grinned at me as I sat down and I had a sudden urge to punch him.

  “I’m Lachlan,” he said as I took my crappy laptop (craptop?) out of my bag.

  “Charlotte,” I said, smiling.

  “Where are you from?”

  Oops. Adam had told me this yesterday, but I’d forgotten what he said. That seemed like the kind of thing I should have memorised before I came to school today, but it was a bit late now. I just answered with the first thing that came to mind. “Far North Queensland.”

  Lachlan nodded. “Cool.”

  “Yeah. There are heaps of crocodiles there,” I said, adding details to make it seem more believable.

  “Wow, awesome.”

  “My Aunt Darlene got bitten by one so we’ve had to move back here while she gets better.”

  In hindsight, I might have overstepped ‘believable’. Luckily Lachlan didn’t seem to notice.

  His eyes widened. “Awesome.”

  Even from across the school, I could hear Tim shaking his head at me in disbelief.

  Ms Peters got back to teaching us about the 1972 Tent Embassy and I glanced over at Chelsea. When I saw that she was glaring at me, I was taken aback. She narrowed her eyes and turned back to face the front of the room. OK, what had I done that had pissed her off? I hadn’t said anything since I’d come into the class, except to...

  Oh, great. Chelsea had a thing for Lachlan and now she thought I was making a move on him. I fought back an eye roll and looked at the notes Ms Peters had put up on the smart-board at the front of the room. We were meant to type them up, but I just opened Wikipedia and copy + pasted them from there. After all, I was pretty sure that was all Ms Peters had done. She seemed like a nice enough person, but she was doing a really good job of making an interesting subject as boring as licking concrete. I typed up our homework assignment – five research questions – and then packed my stuff in my bag when the bell rang. I took my timetable out of my breast pocket and read it.

  PDHPE. (For the uninitiated, that is ‘Personal Development, Health and Physical Education’. Also known as ‘James McKenzie is my teacher and I’m freaking out because of the kiss we had months ago dear god why me why today why ever’.)

  “What do you have next?” asked Lachlan.

  “Um, PE,” I answered, trying to sound normal and probably failing – I was a tad distracted.

  “Oh, are you in Mr McKenzie’s class?”

  I pretended to check the timetable. “Yeah, it looks like it.”

  “Cool,” he said. “It’s a prac class. I’ll show you where it is if you like.”

  “Thanks,” I said, trying to ignore the foul looks I could see Chelsea shooting at me across the room.

  We walked to the changing rooms together with Chelsea walking behind us, muttering to her friends. As though I’d be interested in her stinky pubescent boyfriend when I sort of had a thing with the hot teacher. (Not that I could exactly tell her that.) Speaking of whom...

  We rounded the corner and found James McKenzie standing out the front of the changing rooms, marking names off a roll as students arrived. While Lachlan went to get changed, I walked up to James.

  “Charlotte Daniels,” I said. “I’m new.”

  James looked around to make sure no one was listening in, and then said quietly, “I’m a little scared about having you in my prac class.”

  When I’d been a student here for real, I’d had a standing agreement with all my teachers that if there was any level of practicality involved in a subject, I could sit out. Cooking, sewing, woodwork, PE – anything where there was a risk, however small, of me hurting myself or someone else, I didn’t join in. The one time a substitute teacher had forced me to participate in a practical PE class, I’d hit James in the head with a baseball bat. He wasn’t even in my class – he’d had a free period and was sitting on the grass in the sunshine. When I’d accidentally let go of the bat mid-swing, it had gone rogue and hit him in the head. He’d had to go to hospital.

  “I’m happy to sit out,” I said.

  He shook his head. “You can’t. You need to prove to the other cheerleaders that you’re the kind of person they should invite to tryouts. They need more people on the squad so they’re going to have an audition later this week. You need to make a good first impression.”

  I grimaced. “I think that ship may have sailed.”

  He sighed. “What did you do?”

  I shrugged. “I think I sat next to Chelsea’s boyfriend. She’s been giving me foul looks all morning.”

  “OK,” said James. “Then you need to introduce yourself to her and make sure she forgives you. Now go get changed.”

  I turned and walked into the change rooms, looking for somewhere near enough to Chelsea that I could introduce myself without it being weird while we were getting dressed, but by the time I found her she was already changed. She shoulder-barged me on her way back out the door.

  Great. Things were going well so far.

  Seconds before unbuttoning my shirt, I realised I’d nearly made the dumbest of dumb errors, so I walked into an empty shower cubicle. My wire! Jesus, it was lucky I’d remembered in time. Not even two hours into my first mission and I’d nearly fucked it up by showing the wire off to my classmates. Shivering in the cold concrete-floored room, I peeled the tape off and wrapped the wire up in my uniform which I shoved in the bottom of my backpack, hoping that if anyone did decide to steal something from my bag they’d stop at my phone and not find the wire. Seeing as I didn’t have a sports uniform with me, I changed into my work tracksuit and walked back outside.

  When I emerged, James McKenzie gave me one look before closing his eyes and sighing. When he opened them again, the look on his face was disbelieving but slightly amused. I guess my tracksuit wasn’t exactly up to uniform standards. Lachlan was gawking at me and Chelsea looked like she might actually stab me. I was nailing this whole ‘befriend the cheerleaders’ thing.

  James instructed everyone to head down to the sports oval. I hung back and walked down with James.

  “That’s not a school uniform,” he said.

  “No, it’s my work workout outfit.”

  James raised his eyebrows. “Your work workout outfit?”

  I nodded.

  “You must be freezing.”

  “My nipples may actually fall off.”

  James snorted with laughter. “You can’t say things like that while I’m your teacher,” he said quietly as he regained his composure.

  My teeth began to chatter and I rubbed my arms to try and warm myself up.

  “Don’t worry,” said James. “We’re going to do fitness tests today, so nothing that requires actual coordination.”

  I groaned. “Great.”

  “What?” he said.

  I sighed. “I jogged to the gym and then did a dance class all morning. My legs are already jelly.”

  James shrugged. “Sorry, sweetie.”

  “You really shouldn’t call your student that. I could report you.”

  By now we had reached the field, so I walked away from James so the other students wouldn’t notice that I’d been talking to him. There was a sporty-looking girl standing alone up the back so I went and stood with her, hoping she was one of the cheerleaders.

  “Hi,” I said. “I’m Charlotte.”

  “Abhati,” she replied. She looked me up and down. “Aren’t you cold?”

  “Freezing,” I replied. “But I didn’t know we’d have PE prac today and this was all I had in my bag. At least it’s sunny, I guess.”

  Not that the sun was helping a whole heap.
I was covered in goose bumps.

  James began to address the class. He passed out booklets and pencils while explaining what we were going to be doing that day. I took my booklet and opened it, scanning the contents.

  “As I told you guys last class, your next project is to design and follow an exercise plan. We’re going to be measuring everyone’s baseline fitness today, and then again once you’ve completed your assignments.”

  The class groaned at the word ‘assignments’. I groaned at the word ‘exercise’. This was going to be awful. I mean, sure, at least there was minimal chance of me hurting myself in this class, bar a twisted ankle or an embarrassing fall, but I was not at peak performance at the moment. I’d already run and danced for two hours that morning. Now I was meant to impress the cheerleaders with my skills despite my shaky legs. This was going to hurt, whether I injured myself or not.

  First up we had to do as many push-ups as we could manage in a minute. I buddied up with Abhati so we could time each other. Since this morning hadn’t been arm day at B-Co, my biceps (miniscule though they were) weren’t tired yet, so I did OK at the first test. Abhati beat me by two, but she was still impressed with my effort.

  “For someone with such skinny arms, you’re pretty strong,” she said.

  “Comes from wrestling crocodiles in the Daintree,” I said.

  She grinned. “Sure it does. I heard you tell Lachlan about your aunt getting attacked by a croc in history. I can’t believe he bought it.”

  “I know,” I said. “He’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, is he?”

  She shook her head. “Not by a long shot. Don’t mention that to Chelsea, though.”

  I frowned as though I didn’t know exactly what she was talking about.

  “Who?”

  Abhati flicked her head towards Chelsea, who was chatting with her minions a little away from us. “Chelsea. She’s got a massive crush on Lachlan, and he’s about the only person who doesn’t know.”

  “Right,” I said. “I did see that she was giving me foul looks earlier. I guess it makes sense now, although I have no intention of trying to steal him away from her.”

  Next up was sit-ups, followed by flexibility. Abhati and I were about equal on the sit-ups, but I kicked her arse on the flexibility. She could barely touch her toes, whereas I could reach twenty centimetres past mine.