announced, ‘is slug slime!’
There was a collective intake of breath.
‘Slimy, juicy slugs,’ Sam went on. ‘There’s heaps of them, up behind Gallows Tree.’
‘Eeeeeek,’ screamed Rachel, swiping at her mouth.
‘Aaaagh,’ howled Mel, scrubbing her tongue with a tissue.
‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ said Thea, who promptly threw up.
The girls fled to find a tap.
Sam started to laugh. A deep grumbly laugh that started in his belly and erupted, to echo around the playground like a kookaburra calling.
Matt joined in, quickly followed by the others.
Soon the whole class was doubled up in fits of laughter. Even Natalie.
Sam went up to her. ‘Friends?’ he asked.
‘Friends,’ said Natalie, whose smile lasted long after their handshake had stopped.
‘Good,’ said Sam. But it wasn’t just good.
It was the best!
Chapter One
‘If you spent as much time on your study as you do eating, you’d be at the top of the class.’
Above the desk Ian Ferris was careful to keep his face blank. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said.
‘All that flubber. It strains the heart. No wonder the oxygen is not getting to your brain.’
Below the desk Ian’s middle finger stood straight and tall. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said.
Mr Scruby, his teacher, stood at the front of the class, contracting his abs and puffing out his chest. He was like that. ‘A strong body means a strong mind.’ Even holding up a pile of test papers involved a biceps flex. ‘And you!’ he said, throwing a paper on Sean Harding’s desk. ‘Do you think you can try really hard in the future to make your two, and only two, brain cells meet across a synapse?’
As well as his body, Mr Scruby loved science. He brought science into the classroom every chance he got.
Sean said nothing, the lumps in his cheeks the only sign that he was gritting his teeth. As Mr Scruby leant closer, Sean was assailed by the smell of stale cigarettes.
Smoking was Mr Scruby’s vice. His only vice. He tapped Sean on the head, pretending to listen. ‘Empty,’ he said. ‘I knew it.’
Titters could be heard around the room.
Sean pondered on how you spelt ‘moron’, proof indeed that his brain was working.
Mr Scruby circled the room. ‘Know what Schuyler means?’ he asked his next unfortunate victim. Pieter Schuyler shook his head. ‘It’s a Dutch name. Means a scholar — a wise man.’ Mr Scruby was warming up in his afternoon of torment. He waved an exam paper under Pieter’s nose. ‘Sure you got the right name, boy?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Pieter.
‘Hmmph.’ Mr Scruby held up the test paper, which read 2 out of 10. ‘Must’ve been swapped at birth.’
‘Oh, yuk,’ interrupted Annabel Weekes, furiously fanning her face at the front of the room.
‘Who was that?’ Mr Scruby wheeled around, sniffing.
Colin Briggs didn’t try to hide it. ‘Sorry, sir,’ he said. ‘It’s those egg sandwiches.’
The class erupted into giggles.
‘Silence!’ bellowed Mr Scruby. He glared around the room before eyeballing Colin again.
Colin rolled sideways on to one bum cheek. ‘Pfffffft,’ he went. Not quite an SBD, but close. ‘That curried egg, sir,’ he said. ‘It’s a killer.’
Mr Scruby did not flinch but his eyes narrowed and he audibly drew in a breath. ‘So it would seem,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you can join Ian, Sean and Pieter at lunch today. You would all benefit from a little extra work.’
Ian slumped on his desk. This was the third time this week he’d been kept in at lunchtime. He could hear a long sigh from Pieter and see Sean’s fingers curl into a fist.
‘Yes, sir,’ said Colin, with a resigned look on his face.
‘The body,’ announced Mr Scruby, ‘is what we are going to study next.’
‘Hope it’s hands on,’ said Ian.
‘You would,’ said Annabel.
‘Filthy mind, Ian,’ said Mr Scruby before continuing. ‘You lot are going to do a project on the body. How it functions.’ Loud groans filled the air. ‘Each project
There was a collective intake of breath.
‘Slimy, juicy slugs,’ Sam went on. ‘There’s heaps of them, up behind Gallows Tree.’
‘Eeeeeek,’ screamed Rachel, swiping at her mouth.
‘Aaaagh,’ howled Mel, scrubbing her tongue with a tissue.
‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ said Thea, who promptly threw up.
The girls fled to find a tap.
Sam started to laugh. A deep grumbly laugh that started in his belly and erupted, to echo around the playground like a kookaburra calling.
Matt joined in, quickly followed by the others.
Soon the whole class was doubled up in fits of laughter. Even Natalie.
Sam went up to her. ‘Friends?’ he asked.
‘Friends,’ said Natalie, whose smile lasted long after their handshake had stopped.
‘Good,’ said Sam. But it wasn’t just good.
It was the best!
Chapter One
‘If you spent as much time on your study as you do eating, you’d be at the top of the class.’
Above the desk Ian Ferris was careful to keep his face blank. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said.
‘All that flubber. It strains the heart. No wonder the oxygen is not getting to your brain.’
Below the desk Ian’s middle finger stood straight and tall. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said.
Mr Scruby, his teacher, stood at the front of the class, contracting his abs and puffing out his chest. He was like that. ‘A strong body means a strong mind.’ Even holding up a pile of test papers involved a biceps flex. ‘And you!’ he said, throwing a paper on Sean Harding’s desk. ‘Do you think you can try really hard in the future to make your two, and only two, brain cells meet across a synapse?’
As well as his body, Mr Scruby loved science. He brought science into the classroom every chance he got.
Sean said nothing, the lumps in his cheeks the only sign that he was gritting his teeth. As Mr Scruby leant closer, Sean was assailed by the smell of stale cigarettes.
Smoking was Mr Scruby’s vice. His only vice. He tapped Sean on the head, pretending to listen. ‘Empty,’ he said. ‘I knew it.’
Titters could be heard around the room.
Sean pondered on how you spelt ‘moron’, proof indeed that his brain was working.
Mr Scruby circled the room. ‘Know what Schuyler means?’ he asked his next unfortunate victim. Pieter Schuyler shook his head. ‘It’s a Dutch name. Means a scholar — a wise man.’ Mr Scruby was warming up in his afternoon of torment. He waved an exam paper under Pieter’s nose. ‘Sure you got the right name, boy?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Pieter.
‘Hmmph.’ Mr Scruby held up the test paper, which read 2 out of 10. ‘Must’ve been swapped at birth.’
‘Oh, yuk,’ interrupted Annabel Weekes, furiously fanning her face at the front of the room.
‘Who was that?’ Mr Scruby wheeled around, sniffing.
Colin Briggs didn’t try to hide it. ‘Sorry, sir,’ he said. ‘It’s those egg sandwiches.’
The class erupted into giggles.
‘Silence!’ bellowed Mr Scruby. He glared around the room before eyeballing Colin again.
Colin rolled sideways on to one bum cheek. ‘Pfffffft,’ he went. Not quite an SBD, but close. ‘That curried egg, sir,’ he said. ‘It’s a killer.’
Mr Scruby did not flinch but his eyes narrowed and he audibly drew in a breath. ‘So it would seem,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you can join Ian, Sean and Pieter at lunch today. You would all benefit from a little extra work.’
Ian slumped on his desk. This was the third time this week he’d been kept in at lunchtime. He could hear a long sigh from Pieter and see Sean’s fingers curl into a fist.
‘Yes, sir,’ said Colin, with a resigned look on his face.
‘The body,’ announced Mr Scruby, ‘is what we are going to study next.’
‘Hope it’s hands on,’ said Ian.
‘You would,’ said Annabel.
‘Filthy mind, Ian,’ said Mr Scruby before continuing. ‘You lot are going to do a project on the body. How it functions.’ Loud groans filled the air. ‘Each project
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