24
TAKE US TO YOUR LEADER
Mum uses Google Maps to find our way through town. That’s a good thing because Alex left our map on the train and there’s loads of streets filled with cars, plus hundreds of people hurrying around. None of them look friendly or ask ‘Are you lost?’ like we would if strangers walked down our main road. I’m starting to think city people aren’t big on manners, when Alex tugs my arm.
‘Hey, Lucas — look over there.’
At first I don’t notice anything. He’s pointing at the other side of the road where kids walk in rows through the crowds. I notice they’re wearing matching uniforms and all heading towards the kerb. Teachers in neon vests lead the way, standing at the lights and watching traffic.
I shrug. ‘Must be a school outing or something.’
‘But the teacher keeps waving at us.’
Glancing back, I realise he’s right. A lady in front waves at us, again. Tall and dressed in a black head scarf, she calls across the road, ‘Are you lot the kids from Ashton Hill?’
Oh, no.
They’ve seen us in the papers. We’re wanted for faking alien sightings and they’ve come to give us a piece of their minds. I’m still not clear on whether we’ve broken any laws. How much trouble am I in?
Mr Ngata frowns and holds one arm up in a half wave, using his other hand to keep Ana off the kerb. But the lights change and the woman hurries to meet Mr Ngata, darting over the crossing and shaking his hand. Leaning forward, she gasps, ‘We’re from Gladstone Primary, it’s just around the corner. We decided to change our cross-country schedule and meet the SOS team, instead. We’ve been following your school blog for the last month.’
Mr Ngata opens and closes his mouth just as another sea of colour erupts from a side street. Red and green uniforms march past the bus terminal’s entrance. Rows of girls head towards us, ponytails swinging, guided by anxious teachers with whistles and clipboards.
Stepping around Mr Ngata, I ask, ‘Excuse me, what’s going on?’
The woman adjusts her scarf, then turns to look. ‘Oh, that’s St Anne’s Girls’ School. I wondered when they would get here.’
More voices interrupt her. An army of kids emerge from another side street, pouring down the main road in clothes of every colour, talking and laughing and holding cardboard signs. I can’t read them, but everyone’s chanting —
‘Save our schools! S.O.S! Save our schools!’
My heart rockets inside my chest, exploding like fireworks. Did they all come here to save my school? Looking up, I notice Mr Ngata as his mouth drops open again and he splutters, ‘What on earth’s going on?’
The lady grins. ‘We’re not the only school following Ash Hill’s blog — looks like you guys are famous.’ Her eyes run over our small group. ‘Which one is Lucas?’
Mum grips my arm but doesn’t hold me back. I raise one hand. ‘Um, that’s me.’
The lady looks down, her dark eyes warm.
‘Well, that was quite a speech you made online. All three of our schools belong to the Southwest Cluster and we’re doing a joint study on social change. This fits perfectly with our topic, so we made a few phone calls this morning and here we are.’
‘B-but we lied about the aliens.’
‘I know.’ She leans down, looking at me closely. ‘I understand your reasons but that’s not why we’re here. Your alien story might be made up, but you’re also the seventh school shut down this year by the Ministry. That’s real and it’s worth protesting. Don’t you think?’
I just nod and she smiles again. ‘Well, what do you say? Are you in?’
‘Yeah, definitely.’
‘If you’re going to lead a protest, you’ll need a sign. Carla, would you mind?’ Another teacher reaches past her and hands me a cardboard poster which says ‘I Am The Future, Invest In Me’.
Next to me, Mr Ngata runs a hand over his head. ‘Well … all right then.’ He claps a hand on my shoulder. Come on, tamariki. Lucas will lead the way.’