The Betrayal of Bindy Mackenzie (47 page)

Emily
A black cloth covering Bindy.

That's all I can think of.

And now, I am sorry to say, the FAD group must take over.

The FAD group must now speak for Bindy.

Oh, our poor friend: Bindy Mackenzie.

I will begin by saying what was happening, in the meantime, while Bindy was writing her final words—letters, I guess, her final letters, just up above.

We were all heading down to the parking area, ready to drive in to Castle Hill.

We could not stop talking—we were hovering around in the dark, cold parking area, leaning against our cars, trying to read the transcript that Bindy had just given us. This is the transcript.

Friday
3.55 pm, still on my shadow seat. Two young substitute teachers are approaching one a redhead, the other blonde
—
their voices are raised and tumbling together
—
they speak in half-sentences only.

Redhead:
Edna Lbagennif, I mean, for a start, what kind of a pass—but, come on, what are you thinking? You have to—
Blonde:
Brilliant. I mean f. . . just spectacular. And you knew this all—
Redhead:
You're being so totally—This has nothing to do—
Blonde:
But you knew, I mean, with that trap—she can do
anything
—
Redhead:
Don't be ridic—as if she—it's just basic mainten—I mean, right off you know, I'm going to have to say you think—I'll have to tell Mr—

[
The blonde just SLAPPED the redhead!!! I'm going over there!!
]

So, that was the transcript.

Ernst von Schmerz had an opinion about it, but everyone thought he had come to it too fast. He read it once, and then he spoke.

‘Check it,' he said—pointing to the part where the Blonde says to the Redhead: ‘But you knew, I mean, with that trap— she can do
anything
—'

He said she must have found a trapdoor in the programme. They must have put that in, secretly, so they could hack back into the software later, whenever they wanted or inclined.

So then the Redhead said, ‘Don't be ridic—as if she—it's just basic mainten' and then she says ‘I'll have to tell Mr—'

Which, in my humble view, makes no sense.

Ernst,
however, said that means the Redhead was claiming
the trapdoor was there so they could get back in to maintain the software, but obviously, it was more than that, because (a) it was a secret from the Blonde, and (b) the Redhead was going to tell some mystery person, who must be in charge, that the Blonde had found it.

Therefore, said Ernst, the Blonde must have been trippin about the person knowing, because she hit the Redhead.

And, furthermore, said Ernst, had any of us located said Blonde to know if she was spry? (I think he meant to find out if she was alive.)

Now, we all thought Ernst had reached his conclusions much too speedily, and with too much in the way of strange language. Also we were a bit annoyed that he was being such an easygoing detective, kind of shoulder-shrugging, as if it was obvious, plus asking if we'd gone looking for the Blonde! When we'd only just found out about the Blonde!

I'm finding it hard to write.

We didn't take much notice of Ernst, but started looking through Bindy's things for clues. Toby had carried them downstairs, and they were now sitting on top of Sergio's car.

This is when we saw a sealed white envelope with ‘Bindy' written on the front, and
Finnegan A. Blonde
on the back!!

You can imagine our agitation!

We were hysterical.

Finnegan had probably
filled
that envelope with poison! Or maybe some kind of biological chemical.

We were all picking up the envelope and throwing it away from us. And then gingerly picking it up again.

Now Ernst annoyed us again by saying, ‘Dudes, I do not find your case against Finnegan convictifying.'

And he picked up the envelope and
opened
it.

There was nothing in it but a piece of paper. He took it out and read it aloud. And here it is:

Dear Bindy,
I'm writing to say goodbye.

I've decided to drop out of Ashbury, and this is my last day. But I didn't want to go without explaining myself.

Okay, first: I am not who I say I am.

My name is not Finnegan A. Blonde.

That's the imaginary name my cousin gave me when we were kids—I chose it as a kind of tribute to her.

You see, the reason I've been at this school is because my cousin was working here last year. She was doing some computer programming, and, as you know, was killed by a car after work one day. The day before she died she had instant-messaged me a couple of lines. Something about a problem with the software and an argument she'd had with a co-worker. She also mentioned that a student named Bindy had overheard the conversation.

I thought that meant the accident was suspicious. But the police down here took no notice of a guy up in Queensland who thought he knew more than them.

So, I moved down to my gran's place in Sydney and enrolled in your school under a false name.

I was here for two reasons: first, to see if I could find out what happened to my cousin. I knew she was working on some new educational software, which was being tested out by the teachers in your school. That's why I've been going in to Mrs L.'s office, by the way—to see if I can find something in the software connected with my cousin. (Mrs L. is
never
in
her office.) But I knew sweet f.a. about computers before this year, so I've been trying to learn, doing extra work with the computing teacher, staying up late, etc.

Second, and this sounds insane, I realise now, but I was here to see if I could protect you. I thought that something might happen to you, like it happened to my cousin. Luckily, there was only one student at Ashbury named Bindy.

I got the principal to put us in the same FAD group by pretending I knew you. I kind of twisted my body towards you when Try was allocating those ‘buddies', hoping to subconsciously influence her so she'd put us together. I even told you to do a kickboxing class, thinking you'd learn to defend yourself. And then I kind of waited to see what would happen.

But you have to understand I lost my mind when I lost my cousin. I wasn't thinking straight. Over the last few months, I've been realising this. I didn't find anything sinister in the software. You seemed fine and not in danger . . .

Anyhow, this week I've stopped coming to school. I did Year 11 two years ago, anyway, so I'm just repeating it now. I should actually be in first year uni.

You're a good friend, Bindy. I hope it's worked out okay with your family—let's catch some music together one day.

Take care of yourself, okay?

Markus Pulie

PS I'm going to see a friend of yours tonight. I guess my cousin used to buy books at a place called Maureen's Magic. Anyway, Maureen herself contacted me the other day and said she'd heard I was here now, and wanted to meet me. She told me that you used to work for her.

So. (This is still Emily.)

Finnegan Blonde is not Finnegan Blonde but
Markus Pulie.

And his
cousin
was working at this school just last year. Why did he not say anything to us? Maybe we could have helped him?

But Ernst was keen to get into the software and see if his theory was right about it having a trapdoor. Perhaps he felt injured that we had doubted him.

We decided we'd go into Try's office, to look at the software on her computer, and we thought she would not mind, once we explained.

So! There we all were, crowded into Try's office, being very careful not to touch anything, as Ernst sat down at her computer. We gathered around him, watching over his shoulders.

Astrid, meanwhile, was being rather quiet.

I noticed she was not watching the screen. She was staring at Try's bookshelf. I followed her gaze, and saw
The Travellers' Ohio.

‘You know,' Astrid said, slowly, reaching for the guidebook. ‘I've just remembered something.'

‘Shh,' said Toby. ‘Ernst is trying to concentrate.'

But Ernst typed away, happily enough. Now and then he made a ‘tch' noise, and hit the keys harder.

‘I've remembered something Try once said,' Astrid continued, sounding dreamy. ‘Okay, she told me she comes from Ohio? And she told me a bit about it too.'

Toby said he'd heard that Try was from Ohio, but others couldn't remember.

‘She doesn't talk about herself very much,' Briony admitted, sounding guilty. ‘I guess we should have asked her more . . .'

Ernst hit the same key seven or eight times. Astrid opened the contents page of the guide book.

‘And see, this book has Cincinnati, so it must be in Ohio,' she said. ‘But I remember once when Bindy was going on about Cincinnati, at FAD? And she was even wondering what it was like? And Try said nothing. Can you be from Ohio, do you think, and have
nothing
to say about a place there?'

There was some thoughtful breathing in the room.

‘You could,' said Sergio, eventually, ‘if Bindy's the one asking.'

‘She might be from somewhere else in Ohio,' Briony pointed out. ‘Somewhere far away from Cincinnati.'

But Astrid was flicking through the guidebook.

‘This is too familiar,' she murmured. ‘This introduction about Ohio—the second paragraph? It's, like,
exactly
what Try said to me when I asked her about her home.'

‘You think she's not really from Ohio?' said Elizabeth.

‘Maybe Try's the murderer,' Astrid whispered. ‘Remember Em thought it was Miss Flynn because she's new this year? And then we thought it was Finnegan because
he's
new. So, Try's new too.'

There was quick tapping on the computer keys from Ernst. He certainly has focus.

People started talking—slowly, at first, but then accelerating.

‘Her accent changes a lot,' someone said.