Mas and Cal agreed to help me at the food bank after I’d bribed them with Mum’s chocolate cake. We got through the work quickly with five of us. The time went fast because we talked the whole time and we rotated jobs, so we shared the lifting. When Robert told us it was time to put certain items aside for Christmas hampers, I had an idea. A brilliant idea.
A group of singers from Barton House had gone to a senior citizens home to sing songs and provide cheer for the oldies, probably while daydreaming about the house cup. As they no doubt expected, they were awarded points. If more students had been involved they would’ve earned more points. But the principal had to approve every fundraising activity and every community service.
If Mas, Cal and I organised an event on behalf of Flinders House and we involved the whole school, we should earn more points than Barton had earned. The school’s policy had always been that the people who organised the fundraiser got the points. It didn’t matter that people from every house helped out. Our school was always raising money for this cause and that cause, why not the food bank?
I put my brilliant idea to Mas and Cal. At first, they didn’t want anyone to know they’d been helping out at the food bank. They thought it was OK to have a job at the supermarket, because you got paid. They were embarrassed to be working for nothing, I could tell. I ignored them and went to the principal with my idea.
At first, Mr Ferguson was sceptical. I heard a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “And why do you have a sudden interest in helping disadvantaged families?”
“My dad was retrenched,” I replied, knowing full well that this was a winning comeback line. And it was true. OK, I know what you’re thinking. It wasn’t my total motivation for wanting to help the food bank with making Christmas hampers. As Mr Ferguson suspected, it had more to do with the house cup. As expected, Flinders House had cleaned up in the cross-country. But, unexpectedly, Phillip House had beaten Barton House in debating. That was probably the only competition Phillip House would win all year. They’d done us the biggest favour ever. At assembly, when the result was announced, everyone in Flinders House cheered like crazy. We were closer to Barton House in points than we’d been all year. And I had a plan. An ambitious plan, I’ll admit. And, as I thought, our esteemed principal had guessed my motivation. Too bad. I didn’t care, as long as we got the points.
“Oh…well…I hope he finds another job soon.” He shifted in his chair as though he suddenly felt uncomfortable. “That’s fine. I’ll need to approve the note you’ll be sending home with all the students, and we’ll put something in the school newsletter too.” He nodded. “Commendable idea. Most commendable.”
“Thanks, Sir.” I smiled inside. Old Fergo was a pretty good bloke, really – so long as he never knew this was what all the kids called him behind his back.
Organising the students to bring in food for Christmas hampers was easy. I wrote a note to be sent home with every student, and the staff in the office did the rest. One corner of the art room was set aside to store the food, and within a week we needed more space. It was raining food – good food too, like boxes of shortbread and Christmas puddings. Robert came round after school one day with the white van and he, Masaru, Cal and I loaded it up with the food.
The following afternoon we were at the warehouse. Kim asked us to make up hampers with half boxes, shredded paper, food and cellophane. I could tell by the way she looked at my attempts at arranging the food items that I was a hopeless case. She let Masaru continue and asked Cal and me to go back to sorting the everyday food.
Cal found a large thin box. He held it up to show me and grinned. “Just the right size for a famous painting.”
I laughed; I’d almost forgotten. “Have you heard if any more paintings have been stolen?”
Stan poked his head round from behind a stack of boxes and said, “They caught the chap behind all those art thefts. It was in the newspaper a couple of days ago.”
Cal and I looked at each other and laughed. “So there was a mastermind?” I said. “I knew it.”
“Yeah,” said Stan. He disappeared and returned with a newspaper.
We got Masaru and all gathered round the paper as Stan found the article. I read it aloud.
Stolen paintings discovered in barn
Yesterday, after a tip-off, police
discovered 12 stolen paintings in a
barn at a dairy farm. The police stated
they were convinced the farmer
didn’t know about the stolen artwork.
The nephew of the farmer is a well-
respected art curator. He has been
arrested and charged with multiple
counts of theft. The police have not
revealed if they have other suspects
in relation to the robberies.
The police had been tipped off by
Mr Mills, a janitor at the art gallery
where the art curator had worked
for five years. Mr Mills wondered why
packing materials for the paintings kept
disappearing. When he saw the art
curator hunting through empty boxes,
he became suspicious. He contacted
the police and the police kept the art
curator under surveillance.
Mr Mills will receive an undisclosed
reward. He said he’d use the money
to take his wife back to Malta to see
her family. She hasn’t seen them for
seven years.
“Good story,” said Stan. “A happy ending for everyone except the thief.”
“Yeah, yeah, a great story,” I said. Mas, Cal and I smiled at each other knowingly.
The next week, at school assembly, the winner of the house cup was about to be announced. Mr Ferguson informed us that the Christmas hamper fundraiser had been an enormous success and that points had been awarded to Flinders House. He went on and on about community members looking after each other. Eventually he said, “The final result of the house competition is closer than it has been for many, many years.”
I could barely breathe. Old Fergo loved dragging out the suspense. He loved it that the waiting was nearly killing us. He gave the whole assembly a massive smile as if to say, I’m the only person in the whole school who knows the winner.
“As you know, Flinders House seems to have a large proportion of super sportspeople within the school. However, in recent years Flinders House has only managed to be the runner-up. Barton House, on the other hand, has been the house of all-rounders. And Barton has won the house cup so many times that there is a theory the competition is rigged.”
He paused while everyone laughed. Then the assembly held its breath.
“The winner of the house cup this year, by seven points, is Flinders House.”
The assembly erupted. Cal, Mas and I jumped up and down. The students from Barton House looked stunned. For most of the year they had thought the cup belonged to them.
When the excitement had died down, Jess squeezed into the line beside me. “You got lucky,” she said with a smile.
Sometimes everything in life just falls into place. I couldn’t decide if I was happier about Dad getting another job, us winning the house cup or Jess smiling at me for just a moment too long.
