Chapter 7

Permission to Skive

It was a forlorn couple of weeks at Highcrest Academy. At least, for Ian it was. He had refused to go with his mum and Uncle Bernie (his stepdad, as Ian refused to think of him) on their honeymoon. Uncle Bernie asked Friday if she still wanted to come, but Friday suggested that they could all celebrate later, when Ian had had a chance to get used to the idea. It would just rub salt in the wound if she was on holiday with his mother, while he was upset.

‘It’s strange to see Ian so sad,’ said Melanie as they sat in the dining hall, eating lunch. Friday looked up to see Ian on the far side of the room, half-heartedly picking at his peach cobbler.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Friday. ‘He gets upset all the time. He’s a classic sulky, stroppy teenager.’

‘Classically handsome, perhaps,’ said Melanie. ‘But normally when he gets upset he gets angry, nasty and vindictive. This time he’s just quiet. I think I prefer him when he’s spiteful. After all, that’s the Ian you fell in love with.’

‘I did not,’ said Friday.

‘No, you were able to see through it, to the pain of the abandoned boy beneath,’ agreed Melanie. ‘But now that’s all there is left. I miss his anger – he had such creative ways of expressing his annoyance with people.’

‘Like the time he put my clothes on top of a channel marker, or the time he attached an electric motor to the picnic table I was sitting on and drove it into the swamp, or the time he imploded my pencil box?’ asked Friday.

‘Yes,’ agreed Melanie, smiling fondly. ‘Good times.’

Friday rolled her eyes. There was no point trying to reason with Melanie.

‘I just hope he snaps out of it before we go to camp next week,’ said Melanie.

Friday groaned. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t read the prospectus carefully enough,’ she said. ‘If I’d known about this camp in advance, I would have seriously considered homeschooling myself.’

‘Camp isn’t so bad,’ said Melanie. ‘All that fresh air is good for you.’

‘Really? You’re advocating outdoor activity?’ asked Friday.

‘Of course,’ said Melanie. ‘Fresh air helps you sleep at night.’

‘You always sleep like a log,’ said Friday.

‘Yes, but it’s a better quality of sleep when teachers haven’t been trying to fill my head with maths and science and history all day,’ said Melanie. ‘It’s the pure restful type of sleep you only get when all you’ve been doing is watch other people chop wood.’

‘I really want to sprain my ankle so I don’t have to go,’ said Friday.

‘So why don’t you?’ asked Melanie. ‘Obviously you shouldn’t actually sprain your ankle, but you could always pretend to do it.’

‘Because I’m frightened,’ confessed Friday.

‘Of woodchopping?’ asked Melanie. ‘I don’t blame you. I don’t know how it is that so few students accidentally chop their toes off. Speaking of which, did you know that Pandora Benedetti had to have a toe surgically reattached after the last camp?’

‘No, I’m not scared of that,’ said Friday. ‘An axe swinging through the air is just the mathematics of parabolic motion. I’m not scared of parabolic motion. Besides, I haven’t got the strength to lift an axe, so there’s no way I could hurt myself with one. I’m scared of the situation. Ten people in a dorm – not just you and me – working in teams and overcoming obstacles as a group. I’m terrible at all that human interaction stuff.’

‘Then why don’t you skive off?’ asked Melanie.

‘Because I learn so little at school,’ said Friday. ‘There’s almost nothing the teachers tell us that I don’t know already. I completely grasp the mathematical and scientific principles up to university level and beyond. The greatest lesson I learn from school is how to interact with other people.’

‘Really?’ said Melanie. ‘Because if that’s the case, you’re not doing too well at your studies.’

‘I know,’ said Friday, ‘which is why I shouldn’t shirk this challenge. I should go to camp precisely because I really don’t want to go. I need to face my fear of social interaction.’

‘Good for you,’ said Melanie. ‘And on the bright side, if you don’t overcome your fear of social interaction, you will learn how to use an axe. Once you can swing an axe about, you don’t need to socially interact with anyone you don’t want to.’

‘Barnes!’ called the Headmaster. He was waddling towards them at an accelerated speed.

‘Why must everyone use my surname?’ asked Friday.

‘Because your first name is so silly,’ said Melanie.

Friday nodded. Even she had to acknowledge this was true. The Headmaster reached them.

‘I want to talk with you,’ said the Headmaster.

‘Because you want her to come up with a gambling system that actually works and allows you to systematically beat the odds at the racetrack?’ guessed Melanie.

‘No,’ said the Headmaster. ‘Risk is the best bit about gambling. If I got a brilliant mathematician to work out a system that worked, it would totally ruin the fun of it.’

‘Then why do you need to speak to me?’ asked Friday. ‘Do you need help with a problem?’

‘In a way, yes,’ said the Headmaster.

‘What’s the problem?’ asked Friday.

‘You,’ said the Headmaster.

‘I haven’t done anything,’ said Friday.

‘Not yet, no,’ said the Headmaster. ‘But we all know it’s only a matter of time before you uncover something, or expose something, or entrap somebody, or just say something unnecessarily rude.’

‘Usually when I do those things it’s because I’m solving a case for you,’ said Friday.

‘Yes, I know, but now I want you to stop it,’ said the Headmaster. ‘I’m asking you to consider not going to camp.’

‘Why?’ asked Friday.

‘Because it took me years to find this new camp,’ said the Headmaster. ‘Most of the other camps refuse to take Highcrest Academy because the children are so obnoxious, their pranks are so dangerous, and at least three students always get lost in the woods.’

‘Then why does the school persevere with the program?’ asked Friday.

‘Because the parents love it,’ said the Headmaster. ‘They delight in it when their kids come home sunburnt, their hands covered in blisters and legs covered in leech bites. They think it’s “character-building”. Sometimes I think parents are even bigger sadists than maths teachers.’

‘Do the maths teachers know that’s how you think of them?’ asked Friday.

‘Of course,’ said the Headmaster. ‘If they didn’t enjoy being reviled, they wouldn’t have become maths teachers. Anyway, that’s beside the point. I can’t have you offending the staff and getting our whole school banned. We’re lucky, because Camp Courage was going to bar us too. But someone persuaded the woman who runs the place to give us a chance.’

‘This is so unfair,’ said Friday. ‘I’m not a student who plays pranks or gets up to mischief. I’m always the one solving those problems.’

‘I know,’ said the Headmaster, ‘and I am very grateful. But you have such a charmless, tact-free way of solving problems, the solution often ends up being much worse. So I think it would be better for everyone if you spent the four weeks here. You could help Mrs Cannon. She’s going to use the time to rearrange the book depository.’

‘You know that means she’s just going to take naps in the English room closet, don’t you?’ said Friday.

‘Of course I know that!’ snapped the Headmaster. ‘This is exactly my point. Mrs Cannon says she is organising. I pretend I think that’s true. We’re both happy. You pointing out the truth doesn’t help anyone.’

‘You are a very deceptive man, Headmaster,’ said Friday.

‘All polite people are,’ said the Headmaster. ‘It’s called “being nice”. You should try it sometime.’

‘Friday doesn’t mean to upset people,’ said Melanie kindly.

‘I know that, you know that, but the wilderness survival experts who run Camp Courage don’t know that,’ said the Headmaster. ‘I can’t have you upsetting them.’

‘I refuse to refuse to go,’ said Friday. ‘I am exercising my right as a full-fee paying student to attend camp.’

‘You haven’t actually paid any fees since first semester,’ said the Headmaster.

‘I’ve paid for them with services rendered,’ said Friday. ‘There are several criminals behind bars that are testament to that fact.’

‘Very well, go to camp if you must,’ said the Headmaster. ‘But please, I’m begging you, try not to talk to any of the counsellors.’

‘Couldn’t she talk to them nicely?’ asked Melanie.

‘I think that is beyond her,’ said the Headmaster. ‘It would be better if Friday didn’t speak. And please don’t go around uncovering any crimes.’

‘You want me to let crime go unchallenged?’ asked Friday.

‘Yes,’ said the Headmaster. ‘Yes, please.’

‘What if there is a serious crime?’ asked Friday.

‘Try closing your eyes and counting to ten to see if it just goes away,’ said the Headmaster.

‘As a scientist, I refuse to turn a blind eye to hard facts,’ said Friday.

‘If you manage to get all the way through the four weeks of camp without calling the police in,’ said the Headmaster, ‘I will give you a whole free term of tuition next year.’

‘I’m already paid up halfway through next year,’ said Friday.

‘What do you want, then?’ asked the Headmaster.

Friday thought about it for a moment. ‘Salted caramel ice-cream for dinner once a week,’ she decided.

‘Deal,’ said the Headmaster. And they shook hands on it.