Mr Archie looked like he hadn’t slept. He rubbed his tired face a couple of times before shuffling some papers on his desk. He handed me a letter:
Dear Mr Archibald,
RE: Proposed closure of Punchbowl Boys High School – NEW UPDATE With recent reports in the media and disturbing videos still being circulated via social media, we have determined that an independent body will complete the necessary requirements for further investigation of the school. A foreclosure will be taken into consideration if we are unable to establish major improvements in student behaviour and enrolment numbers. We understand that this is a difficult time for both staff and the community; however, the safety of students is of utmost importance. We hope that you appreciate the severity of the situation, and we will be in contact soon.
Kind Regards,
Shelly McField
NSW Department of Education
I was stunned. We were in Week 7 of Term 2, with the end of term fast approaching, and we were still receiving letters like this.
‘What do they want from us?’ I asked. ‘Do they want us to dress up in ties, brush our hair and salute them? We’re trying the best we can.’
Mr Archie looked at his wall of photos with different sporting legends. ‘They apparently need to see you lads take some ownership of the changes without the guidance of teachers. Take some initiative.’
‘Like what?’ I asked, confused. ‘What can we do to help?’
He slid his phone across the table to show a video of a fight that had been shared on social media overnight. Last week, a couple of boys had gotten into a scuffle on the playground and now it was all over the internet. It looked so much worse than it had actually been.
‘I was there, sir, and those boys were friends again within a few minutes.’ I ran through the witnesses to the fight in my head. ‘There were only some seniors, a few juniors and me and the boys.’
‘Regardless, the media aren’t particularly concerned with the truth of the matter. It’s all about optics.’
‘Optics?’
‘The look of a thing. This fight, however harmless,’ he waved his phone, ‘is bad optics. We need to find something with good optics to counter it. Something with good enough optics to counter the months of negative press we’re working against.’ He looked at the box holding our contracts. We had signed those contracts, and over the course of the term, the real troublemakers had been weeded out. But it was clear now that someone on the inside wanted our school closed. If it was the last thing I did, I was going to figure out who was willing to destroy all of our futures, and why.
‘I’ve spoken to head teachers and have asked them to investigate their grades,’ he said. ‘But what I really wanted to speak to you about is Huss.’
‘Huss?’
‘Have you spoken?’
‘He won’t answer any of my calls or messages.’
He leaned forward. ‘You do know where he lives, right?’
‘Yeah, but you’ve seen me, sir. I’ve had no time.’
‘You’ve had time to spend with Jamila and Aaron.’
I could feel my face heating up. ‘First, me hanging out with Aaron was your idea, for the sake of the comp. And second, Jamila… Jamila.’ I couldn’t find the words.
He sighed. ‘Lad, I get it. I don’t want to encroach on your relationships. But your relationship with Huss is of longer standing than with either Aaron or Jamila. All I’m suggesting is maybe have a chat with him when you get back from the poetry workshop today. It’s the right thing to do as the BBL, it’ll help our game this Friday, but most of all, Tariq, it’s what you owe your best friend.’
During the poetry workshop, I sat opposite Jamila with my notes open for the slam, but Mr Archie’s letter was stuck in my mind. I was starting to feel like there was no way forward, no escape for our school. No matter what we tried, they kept moving the goalposts, and it was clear that they only had one aim in mind. Maybe Huss was right. Maybe all this was too little, too late.
‘Hello?’ Jamila waved her hand in front of my face. ‘You okay?’
I shook my head a few times, trying to get back to our presentation. ‘Yeah, I’m alright. Just school stuff.’
‘Anything I can help with?’
‘Can you go back to whenever boys started being stupid and fighting a lot and convince them to read a book and write poetry instead?’
She laughed. ‘I’m good, but I’m not that good.’ She frowned at me for a second, thinking. ‘Maybe I can help a little bit in a different way, though. Close your eyes.’
‘Huh? Why?’
‘We’re going to try a mini-therapy session.’
‘What, right here? In front of everyone?’
‘Can you stop being a baby, please, and close your eyes?’
I wasn’t about to torch the progress I’d made with her since the Bankstown Poetry Slam, so I closed my eyes. I hoped she wasn’t going to make me talk about my feelings. I remembered how exhausting that had been during camp, and I was going to need all my energy if I was going to tackle Huss later.
After a minute, she rolled up my sleeves and began to draw on my arms. ‘Just pretend no one’s here.’
‘I can’t,’ I said, cracking open an eye.
‘Just trust me.’ I breathed out noisily. ‘Now, tell me what the problem is at this very moment. Not everything that’s been going on, just what’s bothering you right now.’
I took a few breaths and slowly felt my muscles ease. ‘It’s our school. We got another letter threatening to shut us down. I think it’s because someone from the inside keeps releasing videos of fights around the school.’
‘Fights?’ she asked, her pen stopping for a second.
I shrugged. ‘Just dumb guy stuff. Nothing serious, just playground stuff. Archie’s trying to figure out who’s doing it, but he pretty much told me today that he was lost, which makes me nervous. If he can’t figure it out, then we have no hope.’
I tried to open my eyes, but she tugged my arm. ‘I’ll tell you when you can open. Keep going.’
‘I don’t know how our school situation is going to work out if all anyone sees are videos of us fighting. I feel like our image is too broken to fix. I want everything to go back to normal, like how it was.’
I shrugged, and she clicked her tongue when my arm moved. ‘I dunno. We just did our thing. No one was on our case 24/7 about everything.’
‘Was that better than it is now?’
‘People left us alone.’
‘Was that the best thing to do for you guys? Leaving you alone?’
I was quiet for a second, focusing on the feeling of her pen against my skin. I remembered the state the school was in even one term ago, the run-down classrooms, the stressed teachers. The way we had to watch out for one another. The fights.
‘Open’ she said.
I blinked a few times to see my forearms covered in flowers. ‘Really? The boys are going to kill me when I get back to school.’
‘You can pull it off,’ she with a smile. ‘Listen, Tariq. I’m not saying things are easy for you guys right now. It sounds like there’s a lot of shit going on, and it’s stressful and upsetting, and you still have no idea about what’s going to happen to your future.’
‘But?’
‘But do you really think going back to the way things were would be better? Going back to being ignored, written off as worthless, just playing out the same cycles over and over again?’
I sighed. ‘No.’
‘Then maybe it’s worth throwing that idea away and focusing on what you can do to improve the situation?’ She rummaged through her bag. ‘I want to show you something.’
She played me a video of her reading her piece at Bankstown Poetry Slam. I couldn’t believe it had already gotten almost eight thousand likes on the BPS Facebook page.
‘If your principal is saying that you boys are only known for being rough, then why not flip that image on its head and surprise everyone?’ she said, tapping my forehead. ‘Do a slam with the boys. Stop letting other people tell your stories and use your own voice to tell them yourself. BPS could be the perfect place, not just because it’s in Bankstown, in this community, but also because BPS gets heaps of attention.’
‘No way,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘Like, it was cool with you the other night, but trying to convince the boys to do something like this would be impossible.’
She looked sideways at me. ‘What would you have said were your chances to get me to go on a date with you when we first met?’
I knew what she was implying, but I couldn’t help but grin cockily at her. ‘Pretty solid, I’d say. I’m irresistible.’
She rolled her eyes, but I could see the smile tugging at her lips. She scrolled through all the videos on the BPS page and showed me the thousands of likes and comments on each clip. ‘If someone inside your school is sending videos trying to ruin your school, then wouldn’t it make sense to counter the narrative with something like this and leave people speechless?’
‘Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t know what to say,’ I argued. ‘Plus, why do you care? It’s not your school.’
She opened her notebook and unfolded the list of things I had written about my school. ‘I care because it’s my community too. I don’t want Jehad to be limited by other people’s prejudices about your school, or be written off as a waste of space.’
If I had thought nothing she could say would make me like her more, I was dead wrong.
‘I’ll help you,’ she persisted. ‘Just tell a few of the boys you’re close with and we can work on something. The next BPS slam is in a couple of weeks. We can film your performance and post it online.’
I got where Jamila was coming from, but I had to come up with a way to convince Ibby and PJ to take part.
Fourth period. Science. I had explained Jamila’s idea to Mr Ahmed, who agreed to let me have a chat to the Wolf Pack in the empty classroom across from the lab. Huss had no choice but to participate since we were all in the same class. It was the first time we had been face to face since the mess at the game last Friday, and I knew I’d have to work extra hard to convince him to join in on the slam.
To my surprise, Ibby and PJ agreed without any hesitation.
‘Yeah, bro, anything to help the school,’ PJ said, before adding slyly, ‘And if it means we finally get to meet your girl.’
‘Is she pretty?’ Ibby asked. ‘Is she the one that drew on your arm?’
‘I’m serious,’ I said, pulling my shirtsleeves down. ‘Jamila made some good points. I think this would really help to show another side of us, especially when that snitch keeps releasing shitty videos.’
PJ nodded thoughtfully. ‘You know, we could post ourselves on Lee’s YouTube channel, too. I know it’s only gaming stuff, but who cares. He’s got heaps of followers.’
Ibby’s eyes widened. ‘Oh my God. You know what we can also do. I can post my cooking videos, too. Would that help change our image?’
‘That’s actually really good, Ibby,’ I said, impressed. ‘PJ, you can post some of your music stuff, too. We could make this into a whole thing to overhaul our image, get all the boys to post all the cool stuff they do in and around school, all the creative stuff, the sports, all of it.’
I waited for Huss to say something. He stayed slumped over in the corner, scrolling through his phone.
‘So, you in, Huss?’ I asked. ‘Or do you still wanna chuck a sook about Aaron and the game?’
Ibby sucked a breath through his teeth. ‘Yallah, easy.’
Huss looked up, his eyes sharp. ‘Why don’t you post videos with your best friend Aaron, stabbing me in the back?’
Ibby and PJ moved away to give us space.
‘What are you talking about?’ I asked. ‘You were playing shit and so as co-captain I did what was best for the team. I would’ve done it to anyone.’
‘Whatever, man,’ he said, walking to the door.
I blocked him. ‘I’ve tried calling you and messaging you, but you’re just choosing to stay being a sook.’ I had wanted to go in with a positive attitude and try to figure things out with Huss, but seeing him so blasé about our whole situation made me angry. It was like he really didn’t care. ‘I’m trying to talk to you about how we can help, and all you can do is talk about how you got put on by Aaron. Stop thinking about yourself for a second, and pull your head out of your arse.’
‘Tozz feek and move out of my way, Tariq.’
‘I’m not moving until you admit that you threw the game on purpose.’
‘Khalas, boys,’ Ibby said, trying to calm the situation. ‘You’ve been brothers for a long time. Don’t let this ruin it.’
‘We’re the Wolf Pack,’ PJ added.
‘You’re believing the Yahooda over me?’ Huss hissed, walking closer to me.
‘Well, then, what’s the truth?’ I raised my voice. ‘I believed you, and you fucked up a simple kick, I don’t believe you and you stop talking to me altogether. I don’t know what to do with you anymore.’
‘How about coming to check up on your so-called brother and see if he’s alright?’ he said, his voice shaking. ‘You knew about Big Haji and how much she means to me and you still didn’t care to come over.’
I reeled in shock.
‘What? You think Feda didn’t tell me that you knew? You made time for everyone but me!’ The anger drained from his face, leaving a terrible sadness.
‘But I called you,’ I protested. ‘You didn’t answer.’
‘So? Come over,’ he said. ‘You had no trouble going to Aaron’s place or going to something in Bankstown with that Jamila girl.’
How did he know about BPS?
‘I know you’re upset with me. I get it. But the situation with Aaron is your fault. You took it too far.’
He gave me the coldest look I’d ever seen, and left.
‘Probably not the best time to mention Aaron’s name,’ Ibby said.
I banged on the bedroom door until Feda opened it, her eyes bloodshot, papers and books strewn all over the ground.
‘Why’d you tell him?’ I demanded. ‘Why’d you tell Huss that I knew about Big Haji?’
‘Not now, Tariq,’ she said, trying to close the door. I pushed it back open.
‘No. Now,’ I snapped. ‘Are you so angry with me that you wanna ruin my life because you’re miserable and lonely?’
She stared at me for a few seconds. ‘You really are trying your hardest to be the worst person I know.’
‘Why did you tell him?’ I shouted.
She closed her eyes like she had a headache. ‘Why didn’t you tell him you knew?’ She slammed the door. I stood there, fuming, when I heard Uncle Charlie calling my name from the yard. Everyone else must’ve been at work or out with Aunty Salma.
I ignored him and walked into the kitchen, looking for something to eat and trying to breathe through my rage.
‘Tariq,’ he called again, walking in the back door, holding a few honey jars. ‘There is some –’
‘Don’t you start,’ I lashed out. ‘I’m not going to sell your dumb honey jars and embarrass myself, so stop asking me.’
His eyes fell as I slammed the fridge door. ‘Tariq.’
‘Why won’t you leave me alone?’
He lowered his head and walked to the oven and grabbed a plate of food covered in foil. ‘I stay back to make you food because no one here.’ He then went out with his honey jars, back into his shed. Even when my parents came home and called him for dinner, his door remained closed.