Friday Barnes 2 (8 page)

‘Poor Headmaster,' said Melanie. ‘He's going to need a bigger bench.'

‘There's one more mystery that needs to be settled first,' said Friday. ‘What did you do with Purrcy's body?'

‘We buried him in the rose garden outside the Headmaster's office,' said Judith.

‘At least that's a suitable, respectful resting place,' said Friday, unexpectedly impressed by the thoughtfulness of the girls.

‘We found a hole there so we thought that would do the job,' said Stacey. ‘Save us having to dig one up ourselves.'

Rebecca shook her head sadly. ‘You see, it is this slipshod mentality that will prevent them from ever becoming good cooks.'

It was mandatory for students at Highcrest Academy to join at least one extracurricular club. Friday had pointed out to the Headmaster that by making an activity compulsory, it therefore was no longer extracurricular but, rather, curricular. The Headmaster simply told her to ‘be quiet and go back to class'.

Naturally the first club Friday joined was the science club. It was run by one of Friday's favourite teachers,
Mr Davies. There was very little he could teach Friday that she didn't already know. But what she liked about Mr Davies was his enthusiasm. The delight he took in explaining the process of osmosis, the genuine wonder with which he held the periodic table and the excitement he felt for Newtonian physics was contagious. For Mr Davies, every day spent exploring science was as fun as a day at Disney land, something Mr Davies also highly recommended, because there is no better place to study gravity, momentum and centrifugal force than in the loop-da-loop of a rollercoaster.

The science club had spent the previous two weeks observing oral bacteria, by spitting into petri dishes then watching what grew. It was a disgusting but educational exercise. This week's meeting was promising to be even more exciting. They were going to explore aeronautical physics by building rockets. The student whose rocket flew the highest would get a bar of chocolate.

Friday was pouring all her knowledge of physics into building the most aerodynamically pure and chemically potent rocket she possibly could.

Melanie helped, of course. It was her job to sit at the desk so that she blocked Ian's view of what Friday was doing.

‘Are we all ready?' asked Mr  Davies. He was holding his own bright red rocket, which was about the size of a postal tube and had flickering flames painted on the side. He was practically dancing from foot to foot with excitement. ‘Then let's go.'

The students got up from their desks and made their way with their rockets to the door. The rockets were going to be fired from the school cricket pitch. A vertical measure had been erected, and a high-speed camera was being used so that the flights could be accurately gauged.

‘I don't know why you're bothering, Barnes,' said Ian as the bottleneck of the doorway drew him and Friday together. ‘This is a real practical experiment, not a hypothetical mind game like you usually play.'

‘I'm perfectly capable of transferring my intellectual knowledge to real-world scenarios,' said Friday.

‘Really?' said Ian. ‘But you apparently can't manage the simple real-world task of tying your shoelaces.'

Friday looked down. ‘What are you talking about?' she asked. ‘They're tied.'

‘Yes, but you doubted yourself enough that you had to check, didn't you?' said Ian. ‘Let's see if you have the same faith in your rocket.'

‘Oooh,' said Melanie. ‘You should write down some of this witty byplay so you can read the transcripts to your grandchildren one day.'

‘I didn't know Barnes and Wainscott were planning to start a family,' said Christopher.

Friday blushed. She didn't realise that Christopher was standing close by.

‘Oh yes,' said Melanie, ‘it's inevitable. They're just in denial because neither of them is terribly in touch with their emotions.'

‘Melanie,' said Friday.

‘Don't worry, your secret is safe with me,' said Christopher with a wink.

‘I'm not marrying anyone,' protested Friday.

‘Don't be so hard on yourself,' said Melanie. ‘Sure,  you are a trifle odd, but you're quite pretty when you're not wearing your green hat and brown cardigan. Ian won't be able to resist you forever.'

Mercifully, thoughts of romance were soon forgotten when the students found themselves standing in the middle of a cold damp field, waiting for their turn to fire their rockets. Mr Davies had lined them up in a row and was personally supervising each launch. It was actually not quite as exciting as you might
imagine because there is a lot that can go wrong with a rocket: electrical faults, design failures, damp in the connectors. The first two rockets didn't fire at all, which made the girls who built them giggle. They'd only joined the science club because word had got out that Christopher, the dreamy new boy, had put his name down.

The third rocket did fire but then it spun in tight circles, never making it more than two metres off the ground before embedding itself nose-first in the cricket pitch.

‘Oh dear, Mr Pilcher isn't going to be happy about that,' worried Mr  Davies. ‘He's already got enough holes to deal with.'

Then it was Ian's turn. Friday and Melanie took a couple of steps back, just in case Ian had packed his rocket with chocolate pudding or some other prank. Ian nonchalantly held the launch button in his hand.

‘When you're ready, Mr  Wainscott,' said Mr Davies.

Ian smiled his smug smile, which made the girls giggle again. ‘Can I have a countdown, ladies?' he asked.

The girls giggled some more. Friday rolled her eyes. ‘This will be interesting. I wonder if they can count backwards from ten.'

Evidently the girls did not like to stretch themselves, because they started from five. ‘Five … four … three … two … one … Blast off!'

Ian pressed the launch button and … nothing happened. His face fell. He started to walk towards the rocket to see what the problem was.

Friday instinctively did the same. Ian might be her nemesis but she never enjoyed seeing an experiment fail. They both arrived at the rocket at the same moment when suddenly WHOOOSH!, the rocket shot up in the air. Friday stumbled backwards and landed on her bottom. She looked up to see the rocket high in the sky.

‘Eighty metres, eighty-five, ninety!' came a crackly voice over Mr  Davies' walkie-talkie. There was an observer standing on the roof of the administration building.

‘Well done, Wainscott!' said Mr  Davies, applauding enthusiastically.

Ian smiled down at Friday. ‘Do you think you can beat that?'

‘We'll see,' said Friday.

‘Mr Gianos, you're up next,' said Mr Davies.

Christopher stepped forward, made a couple of last-minute adjustments to his rocket, then stood back. He looked a little nervous.

‘Would you like us to count down for you too?' tittered Mirabella.

‘No, thank you, I prefer to create dramatic tension in my own way,' said Christopher. He turned and looked at Ian. ‘By saying kiss … my …'

WHOOOSH!

Christopher's rocket took off. Straight away it was evident his rocket was going at a greater speed than Ian's.

‘Seventy metres … eighty metres …' said the voice over the walkie-talkie.

‘Well done, Gianos!' exclaimed Mr Davies. ‘Ninety metres … one hundred!' continued the voice on the radio.

Christopher smiled and cocked his head at Ian, who glowered. The rocket was still going.

‘One hundred and twenty, one fifty … one eighty-five!' concluded the voice on the walkie-talkie.

‘That's a new school record!' exclaimed Mr Davies. ‘I've never got it above one hundred and thirty myself. You'll have to take me through your exact construction process.' Mr Davies slapped Christopher on the back and shook his hand.

‘There's still one more to go,' said Ian.

‘What?' asked Mr Davies.

‘Friday,' said Ian.

‘Oh yes, Barnes,' said Mr  Davies. ‘Of course, didn't see you there. Must be that brown cardigan. Go ahead, you have your turn then.'

Friday picked up her launch button.

‘I'm sure Mirabella will do a count down for you if you ask her nicely,' said Ian.

‘I wouldn't want to strain her mathematical skills,' said Friday. ‘Melanie, will you do the honours?'

‘Sorry, what?' said Melanie. ‘I wasn't paying attention.'

‘Never mind,' said Friday. ‘I'm sorry to have interrupted your daydream.'

‘That's quite all right,' said Melanie, staring off into the middle distance again.

‘I'll do it myself,' said Friday. ‘Ready … aim … fire!'

Friday pressed her button and the whole launch pad exploded in a BOOM! The rocket shot upwards, but it sounded different to Christopher's and Ian's, more of a roar than a whoosh.

‘Fifty metres … seventy … eighty …' said the voice over the walkie-talkie, but then Friday's rocket seemed to slow. ‘Eighty-five …

‘Hard luck, Barnes,' said Ian, smug once more.

‘Wait for it,' said Friday.

BOOM! The rocket exploded mid-air, or rather the tail section did, and the nose section took off again even faster.

‘What was that?!' asked Mr Davies.

‘The secondary booster,' explained Friday.

‘Genius!' exclaimed Mr  Davies, watching the rocket through his binoculars.

‘I know,' agreed Friday.

‘Two hundred metres …' said the voice over the walkie-talkie. ‘Three hundred … four hundred … it's too high, I can't measure it anymore.'

‘That's all right,' said Friday, ‘I can.' She reached into her backpack and pulled out a handheld electronic device.'

‘That's cheating!' exclaimed Ian. ‘Electronics are against school rules.'

‘Not all electronics,' said Friday. ‘The school rules specifically state which electronic devices are not allowed and there is no mention of three-dimensional GPS trackers. Eight hundred metres.'

‘No way!' exclaimed Christopher.

‘NASA satellites don't lie,' said Friday.

‘Bravo, Miss Barnes,' said Mr Davies.

‘Twelve hundred metres … fifteen hundred metres … eighteen hundred metres … eighteen hundred and seventy-nine metres!' declared Friday. ‘That's the zenith, it's coming down.'

High above them they could see a parachute pop out from the tail section. The rocket slowed to a gentle downwards drift.

‘Congratulations, Miss Barnes!' said Mr  Davies, shaking Friday by the hand.

‘It must be windy up there,' said Melanie, shading her eyes as she kept watching the rocket. ‘It's being blown sideways.'

‘What?' said Friday, looking up again. ‘Oh dear, we should have sent up a weather balloon first so we could measure wind speed at the various heights.'

The rocket was drifting on the wind towards the south.

‘You'll be lucky if it lands on school grounds,' said Ian.

‘I don't think it will,' said Christopher.

They all watched the parachute drift over the school boundary still three hundred metres in the air and floating rapidly away from them.

‘Oh dear, oh dear,' said Mr Davies. ‘How are we going to get it back? I'll get in such trouble with the Headmaster if I lose any more equipment. He's still cross with me for blowing up the fume cupboard last term when I got carried away demonstrating a baking-powder volcano.'

‘That's all right,' said Friday, ‘it'll be simple to find with the GPS.'

‘Are you sure?' asked Mr Davies.

‘I've even got video footage,' said Friday.

‘You do?' asked Mr Davies.

Friday took a tablet computer out of her bag.

‘Now that is definitely against the school rules,' said Ian.

‘I'm sure Mr Davies and the Headmaster will be happy to bend the rules if it means I can return the school's equipment,' said Friday.

‘Oh yes, of course, of course,' said Mr Davies.

‘I embedded a nano-camera in the rocket's nose cone,' said Friday, tapping the screen on her tablet, ‘so let's see what it got.'

Everyone gathered round to see the recording. Friday hit the play arrow. For several seconds the footage was just blue sky.

‘Thrilling,' said Ian sarcastically.

But then the picture tipped over and they could see the school from fifteen hundred metres up.

‘Wow!' exclaimed Mr Davies.

It really was a beautiful scene. For the students at Highcrest it was so easy to focus on the drudgery and pettiness of everyday life at a boarding school, and to forget how beautiful their school grounds were. The red stone buildings, the green playing fields all set between the winding river, the canopy of the swamp on one side and the dense forest on the other.

They watched the school gradually leave the camera's frame as the rocket drifted towards the forest, the picture getting closer and closer to the treetops. Then the rocket dipped down into the foliage.

‘I hope it doesn't get stuck on a branch,' worried Friday.

But the rocket didn't. The picture drifted
down until the nose hit the grass, then the rocket fell sideways, leaving a camera view of the ground through the thin grass.

‘Now that's helpful,' said Ian. ‘I'd recognise that blade of grass anywhere.'

‘Is that a caravan behind the tree in the background?' asked Melanie.

Friday leaned in to peer closely at the picture. ‘I think you're right. Someone must be living in the forest,' she said.

Suddenly a face appeared sideways in the picture.

‘Aaaagggh!!!' screamed the assembled group.

Friday dropped the computer as she instinctively flinched away, but she quickly picked it back up again. The face was still sideways, but it filled up the full frame.

‘It looks like a vagrant,' said Mr Davies.

‘Yes,' agreed Friday. ‘And that vagrant looks very familiar.'