The Beauty Is in the Walking by James Moloney Page A

one on our own Charlotte. None of us here want that, do we?
    â€˜This is what we’re going to do,’ and I outlined my plans for knives in plastic bags. ‘It’s simple, it’s symbolic and it’s powerful,’ I said, summing up and at the same time wondering where those words had come from.
    I needed something more, something poignant to finish with and, looking at the many thoughtful, almost-convinced faces in front of me, my dodgy tongue surprised me again.
    â€˜Guys, Palmerston is better than this. The people of our home town deserve better and it’s up to us to show them the way.’
    Afterwards they clapped me, for God’s sake, and when the bell set us free two girls came up to me right away, wanting me to explain the protest again. Soon fouror five were gathered round and, after glances between them that hoped someone else would take the lead, Alicia Greaves said she was in and immediately three others agreed to join us as well.
    Svenson was waiting to lock the classroom. ‘Have you rung the newspaper yet?’ he asked as I passed through the door.
    I shook my head.
    â€˜Do it now. Give them notice so their reporter doesn’t get called to another story.’
    I made the call as soon as he walked away. It took a while to make the guy understand what we were going to do, but once he did he wanted as much detail as I could tell him.
    â€˜Post office at four-thirty and then the police station. I’ll be there,’ he said.
    â€˜And a photographer?’
    â€˜Don’t worry. You’ll see yourself in the paper tomorrow.’
    My phone sang with texts from Amy and Mitch to say they were on their way home to get a knife. I was reading them when I passed the stairs leading up to the staffroom.
    â€˜Jacob,’ Svenson called. He came bounding down the stairs two at a time. ‘How are you getting home?’
    I normally bummed a lift or, if I missed out, dawdled my way to Mum’s office. It was just dawning on me that I needed more than that today when Svenson solved the problem for me.
    â€˜I’ll drive you.’
    He had an MX5, a bit knocked about and it probably had a million k’s on the clock, but it had style, no doubt about that, and in Palmerston that made him a big note. Tyke could get away with it because of who he was and, besides, his flash and dash was a shiny red ute.
    â€˜Bloody hairdresser’s car,’ Dan had said about Svenson’s. Mind you, he’d have taken it if Svenson was giving it away. We all would.
    â€˜That was an impressive speech you made,’ said Svenson once we were rolling. ‘Not surprised Alicia and the rest signed on afterwards.’
    The Mazda turned into Meredith Street, giving me a glimpse of the police station as Svenson made the right turn. Another two blocks of silence, then he said, ‘I’ve read your assignment on The Crucible . It’s the best work you’ve done all year.’
    So my assignment was worth all the sweat I’d put into it. I risked stepping out of line and asked, ‘Was mine better than Chloe’s?’
    Svenson thought about this while he made the last turn. ‘Not quite,’ he answered, smiling gently, an encouraging smile that said don’t take the news too badly. ‘Chloe’s had more experience in writing this kind of assignment. You lot are a year behind out here, compared to where she’s come from. Not your fault, Jacob. The insight and intelligence is there in what you wrote.’
    What did he mean by that? I waited for him to explain, but we’d already pulled up outside my place. Svenson waited in the car while I threw all our knives out of the kitchendrawer, knowing damned well Mum’d kill me if I took one she used every day. I found what I needed among all the forgotten utensils in the bottom drawer. We were halfway to the police station when I remembered the plastic bags.
    â€˜Do you think we could go