It’s the next morning and I’m sitting at my desk waiting for class to start. Everyone is finding their seats. Abby is at the front talking to Miss Sweet. Tyson is walking around asking everyone if they have any rubbish he can put in the bin for them. Pip is trying to summon the courage to graffiti her initials on the desk (but only in pencil).
I don’t really feel like talking to anyone. I’m just staring over at Hugo’s desk in the corner. His seat is empty. He’s not here.
‘I hear you did it, Max.’ It’s Abby. She sits down beside me. ‘Well done.’
‘What?’
What is she talking about? I know I’m not totally functioning this morning (it’s been a rough night) but she still isn’t making sense.
‘Why would I be mad?’ I ask, but before I can answer Miss Sweet stands at the front of the room. She doesn’t look happy.
‘Unfortunately we need to start today with some very disappointing news, everyone,’ Miss Sweet begins. That sentence certainly gets everyone’s attention. ‘Last night Hugo did something very silly down at Redhill Pool. And because of that we have had to cancel Friday’s swimming carnival.’
I’m not completely caught by surprise. I did see the state of the pool last night after all, but there is still a brief moment of satisfaction. I did it. I achieved the thing that I set out to do. And it wasn’t easy.
My plan certainly didn’t pan out the way I’d imagined it though. It doesn’t feel like I thought it would. That is mostly to do with the empty chair in the corner of the room.
‘Which, of course, leaves us with the question of what we will do on Friday instead,’ Miss Sweet says. Oh, I’d never thought about that. I’d never thought beyond getting out of swimming. ‘At Abby’s suggestion, we will instead be participating in the Maths Olympiad.’
‘What!?!’ Oops. I just said that out loud. I turn and look at Abby. She has a big smile on her face. And it’s not a ‘that’s a nice surprise’ smile either. It’s an ‘I’ve been tricking you this whole time’ smile! I’m confused. What’s going on?
‘Do you have a problem with that, Max?’ Miss Sweet asks. ‘You were going to compete against everyone in swimming. Now you’ll be doing it with maths. I would think that’s probably worse for you rather than better. Isn’t that right . . . son?’
It’s the way she says ‘son’ that makes me realise that teachers enjoy getting revenge too. I turn and look at Abby in horror and I know (although I haven’t quite worked out how) that I’ve been played this whole time.
