Stuff Happens

I hadn't done anything wrong – it just looked like it.

I was sitting outside the principal's office. Was I a bully? Had I gotten into a fight? Neither. I'd been told to wait there when I arrived. It was my first day at Monvale Primary. Everyone walking past was probably wondering what I'd done.

There was a boy sitting across from me, slouched in his chair. He had definitely done something wrong. His shirt was untucked, but nobody got sent to the principal for an untucked shirt. Or did they? This was a new school after all. Maybe Monvale Primary was the sort of place where that happened . . .

I quickly looked down at my waist to check my shirt. I was okay.

‘What did you do?' We'd been sitting on opposite sides of the hall for ten minutes before he spoke.

‘Nothing,' I said. ‘I'm new.'

‘Oh, sweet.' He slid forward to the edge of his seat. ‘I'm Huck.'

I hesitated. I could hear Mum's voice in my head. She told me to make good friends, not the kind who were sent to the principal before the first bell. I already had good friends, only they were back on the other side of Australia. ‘I'm Sean,' I said.

‘Where are you from?' Huck asked.

‘Bunbury.'

He scrunched his face up.

‘It's in Western Australia,' I added.

‘Near Perth?' he asked.

‘Depends. It's ninety minutes away usually, but two hours if Dad's the one driving.'

Huck laughed, then asked, ‘Why did you move to Monvale?'

‘My parents grew up here and wanted to come back,' I said.

‘Ah, you're coming back home.'

‘Not really.'

Monvale was my parents' home, Bunbury was mine. Mum and Dad had quit their jobs and packed our lives into bags and boxes. Well, they packed what they could. There were things I couldn't take with me – like my school friends Eddie and Christian, the burger place that knew what I wanted before I ordered and the park across the street with the huge chessboard. We had said goodbye to Bunbury, hopped on a plane and landed somewhere new that I wasn't sure I'd like as much.

My parents were happy. But nobody asked if I was.

‘Are you in year five?' I asked.

Huck shook his head. ‘Year six,' he said. ‘Who's your teacher?'

‘Mr Johnson.'

He made a face like he'd just sucked on a lemon. ‘That's unlucky.'

‘Why?'

Before he could answer, the door beside us opened. The principal seemed a little disappointed when she noticed Huck waiting for her. ‘What is it this morning, Huck?' she asked.

‘Nothing, Principal Davies, I swear. I didn't do anything.' Huck's voice was higher than it had been before.

‘All right.' The principal turned to me and smiled warmly. ‘You must be Sean Summers.'

I nodded. My parents had spoken to Principal Davies on the phone, but we'd never met. She reminded me of Mum a little bit.

‘Great to have you join the Monvale Primary family, Sean,' she said. ‘I hope Huck has been entertaining.'

‘Very,' Huck said.

The principal laughed and checked her watch. ‘Huck, the bell is about to ring. Could you walk Sean to 5J? When you're done, you can come back and talk to me about what you didn't do.'

‘Okay.' Huck sprung up.

I pulled my bag out from under the seat and followed him down the hall. Kids were rushing to get to class, but Huck wasn't in a hurry. He was my tour guide, stopping to point out the landmarks we passed – the library, the staffroom, the toilets. He had a story for each one.

‘But don't tell anyone I told you that,' he said, after telling me about the time he – actually, I shouldn't say.

I tried to make him speed up. ‘Don't we have to get to class?'

‘Nup,' he said. ‘Everyone's just lining up. We've got plenty of time. Relax.'

‘What did you mean before?' I asked him.

‘When?'

‘When I said I had Mr Johnson and you said it was unlucky. What's wrong with Mr Johnson?'

Huck laughed. ‘Oh, nothing much, just that he's the strictest teacher at Monvale.'

‘What?'

‘Yeah. Worse than Ms Lucas, and she's
really
strict. He can see everything. It's like he has eyes in the back of his head. I had him last year. He always made me pick up rubbish in the playground. Oh, and once, he confiscated my phone, but I stole it back.'

I could already picture Mr Johnson: a lean, mean, confiscating machine.
Gulp
.

Huck had stopped. ‘Well,' he said, ‘this is it.'

We were standing in front of 5J. Suddenly my heart was pounding and my chest was getting tighter.

‘Good luck,' Huck said. He was already walking back to the principal's office.

I was on my own, staring at the classroom door. I really didn't want to go in. I didn't want a strict teacher. I liked being in Mrs McKenzie's year five class. Last term, when we all did well in our projects, she made us brownies. The kind with icing on top.

I wanted to go back to 5M, but I was in 5J now. Mr Johnson was my teacher and that was
my
classroom door. I just had to open it.

I held my breath and reached for the handle, but the door opened before I could grab it. Mr Johnson was on the other side.

‘Ah, you must be Sean Summers. Good to see you,' he said. ‘We're in a tricky spot and I was worried you wouldn't find us. I almost sent someone to fetch you.' He stepped back, smiling. ‘Come in, come in.'

I was surprised. He didn't seem as scary as Huck described.

‘I hope you're excited,' he said.

Not exactly. I was at a new school and had to make new friends. I met Eddie and Christian in kindergarten, but I didn't remember what I'd done to make them like me. I wasn't excited . . . I was scared. Arriving in the middle of term just made everything worse. The walls were already covered with cardboard projects, and papier-mâché planets hung from strings above us. Everybody had their seats, their bag hooks, their friends and their spots to eat lunch. I had to catch up.

The entire class was waiting for me now, standing behind their desks. Mr Johnson showed me to my bag hook and then led me to the front of the room. Twenty-six kids stared at me. I had enough time to count them before Mr Johnson spoke.

‘Good morning, everyone.'

The class replied in unison, ‘Good morning, Mr Johnson.'

Everybody started pulling their chairs off their desks, loudly scraping the legs across.

‘Quietly,' Mr Johnson added.

The noise suddenly stopped. Everybody lifted their chairs onto the floor.

Mr Johnson cleared his throat and said, ‘As you can see, we have someone new with us today. This is Sean. I want you all to make him feel welcome.' There was shuffling in the back row as he spoke. Most of the kids were reaching into their pencil cases or drawing margins; they weren't even listening. He continued, ‘It isn't easy being new. Don't be afraid to say hello to him if you see him around.' He pointed to an empty chair over in the far-right corner and said, ‘Sean, that's your desk.'

As I walked over to it, Mr Johnson started writing on the board.

I was sitting next to Jeff. His name was written on his Monvale Vipers pencil case. Dad had told me the Vipers were an A-division soccer team. Jeff was obviously a big fan.

He caught me looking at it. ‘Do you like soccer?'

I didn't really follow soccer and hardly knew any of the rules. I did want to make a friend on my first day, though, so I said, ‘Yeah.'

‘Cool. Me, too.'

Mr Johnson had used up the entire whiteboard. ‘Is everybody finished with the first line?' he asked.

We were supposed to be taking notes off the whiteboard and I hadn't even gotten my pen out yet! ‘Ah, Mr Johnson, I –'

Too late. He didn't hear me and wiped off his writing.

Jeff angled his book towards me. ‘He writes fast, you'll get used to it. Just copy me.'

‘Thanks.'

Mr Johnson must have heard us. ‘Silent writing,' he said, still facing the board.

It was enough to make me almost jump out of my seat. Jeff tried not to laugh.

I opened my book to the second page (my teachers back home always liked title pages) and started copying notes from Jeff's book. I had almost completely caught up when he whispered, ‘Hey.'

‘Yeah?'

‘Do you want to play with us at recess?'

I was so happy I couldn't say anything at first. ‘Sure,' I said, eventually.

‘Cool. You're on my team.'

I didn't understand. ‘Your team?'

‘Yeah, my mates and I play soccer and stuff at recess and lunch.'

Of course he wanted me to play – I'd told him I liked soccer. It was a tiny lie, I had wanted him to like me, I didn't think I'd actually have to prove it. ‘Um,' I started, ‘before, when I said I –'

Mr Johnson repeated, ‘Silent writing,' a little louder than before.

I was starting to understand what Huck had meant about the eyes in the back of Mr Johnson's head. I looked back down at my work. Suddenly, I was dreading recess. I had until then to learn how to play soccer!

_____

When the bell rang, I followed Jeff to the large concrete play area. It was a sea of white hats and schoolkids playing handball, basketball, footy everywhere.

The other boys were waiting for us under the basketball hoop. They all rolled their sleeves up the same way. They stopped talking when we got close. Did they not like me? Or worse, could they tell I didn't play?

Jeff passed me the ball and I caught it (just).

‘Sean, you can start,' he said.

We divided into two teams of four. My heart was going crazy. There was no way I could bluff my way through a soccer match and it was way too late for me to admit to lying.

I placed the ball down at my feet. The only thing I knew about soccer was that you were supposed to kick with the inside of your foot. I'd tried once before, but I could never make the ball go where I wanted it to.

‘Come on,' one of Jeff's mates said.

I pulled my foot back and shut my eyes. This was it.

‘Sean Summers!'

I opened my eyes. Mr Johnson was crossing the play area.

When he was close enough, he asked, ‘Sean, where's your hat?'

I glanced around. I was the only person out in the sun without one. I had left it on the kitchen counter at home. ‘I forgot it,' I said.

‘Come on, can't he play?' Jeff pleaded.

Mr Johnson sighed. ‘I know it's his first day, but rules are rules.'

He pointed over to the other end of the playground, where a group of kids without hats sat in the shade. ‘No Hat, No Play,' he recited.

It was
perfect
. Jeff wouldn't know I wasn't a soccer fan.

‘But Mr Johnson!' Jeff pleaded.

Mr Johnson just shook his head.

I handed Jeff back the ball and walked to the shade. From there, I had a perfect view of Jeff and his friends. They used two bins as goals and Jeff was the first to score a point. He threw his arms up and his team celebrated.

I should have been happy Jeff didn't find me out, but I wasn't. I had gone from almost playing a game with seven other boys to being the new kid, sitting all alone.

And I missed home more than ever.