Hugo and I march over to Abby and Miss Sweet. This is ridiculous. What is the world coming to when you have to tell someone they’ve been pranked.
‘The Maths Olympiad?’ Miss Sweet asks, reading from Abby’s note, which she holds in her hand. ‘That’s that online mathematics competition isn’t it?’
‘Oh, Miss Sweet, it’s amazing,’ she says, practically bursting with excitement. ‘It’s a maths competition online. Kids from all over the world compete in different maths events. It’s incredibly competitive. You know Reet Ghosh?’
Miss Sweet screws up her face. ‘Who?’
‘Amelie Beaumont? Yuki Ng?’ Abby asks, dumbfounded.
‘I’ve never heard of these people,’ Miss Sweet replies, shaking her head.
Time to interrupt this nonsense. I take a breath and –
Miss Sweet holds up her finger in my direction. That finger means ‘don’t even think about it.’ I hate that finger.
‘What does this have to do with the swimming carnival on Friday?’ Miss Sweet asks Abby.
‘Sounds like you agree with Max,’ Miss Sweet says. ‘That would be a first.’
‘Max is an idiot, Miss Sweet.’
‘Hey! I’m standing right behind you!’ I protest.
‘I know that,’ Abby continues on without looking at me. ‘The point is we are growing up in a world of technology start-ups and the data revolution. What is going to be more important for my education, Miss Sweet: long-division or doggy-paddle?’
Can I choose ‘none of the above’?
‘There are other valuable aspects to your education beyond academics, Abby,’ Miss Sweet says. ‘What about leading a healthy lifestyle?’
‘There is nothing healthy about drowning!’ I interrupt.
‘Exactly, Max,’ Miss Sweet replies. ‘That’s why you need to be strong swimmers. And one of the ways we develop those skills is by practising our swimming with Chaz and competing in the swimming carnival on Friday.’
‘Well, unfortunately, I have a note,’ Abby says and she folds her arms. The note is to teachers what Kryptonite is to Superman. All of their teacher powers evaporate when you have a note, and Abby knows it.
‘I’m not accepting your note,’ Miss Sweet says.
Wait, what? What did she just say?
Abby looks stunned.
‘You–’ she stammers. ‘You can’t do–’
‘Yes. I can, Abby,’ Miss Sweet says with a smile. That’s the smile of Superman slapping away the Kryptonite! She’s rejecting the power of the note!
I can’t believe I’m seeing this!
Snap! Abby is a potato, Miss Sweet is the cook and Abby just got mashed!
‘But –’
I think that’s my cue. I tap Abby on the shoulder.
‘Abby?’
‘What?’ She flicks around to face me.
‘Is that your lunch box sailing across the pool?’
Both Abby and Miss Sweet look past me, out to where Abby’s lunch box is sailing out across the great expanse of Redhill Pool.
‘MAX!!!’ Abby and Miss Sweet yell at the same time, silencing the whole room.
It’s silent enough for everyone to hear the giant SNAP! followed by a YEOW! as Tyson snaps Lee’s swimmers like an elastic band against his bum.
‘TYSON!’ Miss Sweet exclaims and marches off in his direction. It seems Tyson presents a more immediate danger than my sailing boat.
