Benworden (12 page)

Peter said, “That little bald man needs me to polish that shiny little head of his!”

Carla knew she had them eating out of her hands and said, “That's great saying all that but no one has ever really stood up to Mr Gowdy.”

Wally crossed his arms and poked his chin out while placing his head towards one shoulder. He smirked and said, “Well we have, haven't we, boys?”

All the guys smirked as well, like it was some stupid new fad, and replied, “Sure have, Scar.”

Wally's ego had fully eclipsed his capacity to think through the information he was about to divulge to Carla and he said, “Remember that time Mr Gowdy brought his favourite bonsai plant to school, the one that took him ten years to grow? And do you remember how someone cut it into little pieces?”

Carla watched as his grin stretched from ear to ear and said,
“Was that you?”

Wally replied, “Not just me. The boys and I are a team and after that silly old fool had finished giving us hell one recess, we snuck up to his office and mutilated his stupid little bush.”

Carla gave him one of those looks that showed that she was not only impressed by his story but wanted to hear more and said, “You guys are incredible.”

Wally couldn't help himself and continued, “That's nothing. Before that we put holes in his favourite umbrella and another time we superglued the lock on his office door so he couldn't get in the next morning. So if that old ass thinks he's untouchable he has another think coming.”

Carla smiled and said, “Well thanks, boys. You've really cheered me up and made my day, but I have to go now or I'll be late for class.”

Carla began to walk away and Wally yelled out from behind her, “No worries babe, and maybe the next time we meet we can have a little more privacy. A one on one, if you know what I mean.”

The gang chuckled amongst themselves and Carla thought to herself, “In your dreams, loser.” Then she pulled the pen from her pocket and smiled knowing that the bullying at the school would soon come to an end.

That weekend Harry spent hours editing the film to ensure that all club members had been cut from it so it couldn't be traced. Every Monday, assembly was held in the old converted church on the school grounds, and club members had been hard at work on the projector and the power point that Mr Gowdy would use to show the previous week's achievements and negatives.

Sean had rigged Mr Gowdy's computer so we could operate what we wanted to show by using our own remote control. As well, he'd made the remote look like a calculator so it wouldn't be detected if our bags were searched.

Gerry had the remote, and halfway through Mr Gowdy's lecture she flicked the play button and the fun began. The first thing that came up was Peter breaking his knuckle. The film only showed Roo's stomach and no higher. Then came the gang talking about “Old Gowdy” and what they had done to him.

At this point Wally and his band of thugs were slinking down in their seats. Mr Gowdy had gone as red as a tomato and was peering over his glasses scanning the room full of students like a lion searching out prey.

Miss Fickle was on a chair and banging on the overhead projector after not being able to turn it off via the remote. The students had broken into fits of laughter as they watched the pigeons fly over and drop their load on the gang and then the students throwing up and holding their noses in the school's corridor.

Mr Gowdy yelled at the top of his voice, “QUIET!”

Even Miss Fickle stopped banging on the projector.

Gerry quickly hit the remote and the power point came back on. Gerry slipped the remote back into the bag on the ground next to her. Mr Gowdy had finally figured out where the boys were and pointed at them and said, “You, you, you, you and you, go to my office now and wait. I will attend to you shortly. As for the rest of you, I want to know who is responsible for what has happened here.”

We all sat there, silently knowing that this had been a very
successful mission and there was no way that we were going to fail on the final leg of it.

Mr Gowdy said, “Ok then, if no one wants to own up then everyone gets two days' of detention!” He stormed out of the room and was quickly followed by Miss Fickle and then the teachers, who seemed to be smiling. As for the rest of the students they didn't seem to be distressed about having to do two days of detention. Most of them were relieved and happy that Wally and his crew had finally copped their just desserts. It was only through some pleading from their parents and a rather large donation to the school that saved Wally and his gang from expulsion but from that day on they never bullied another student and were rarely seen hanging out together.

14

T
HE
D
IARY

O
ne afternoon during recess I was walking up the corridor to my locker when Mr Gowdy approached and caught me a little off guard.

“Come here, boy. Where did you get that ring from?” he growled while peering over the top of his glasses.

My mind was racing which didn't help matters and I was having trouble putting a sentence together. I felt like a little boy who had been caught red-handed in the lolly jar.

As he drew closer he opened fire again, “Well?”

I told him a few of us had seen it on some of the other students and liked it so much we each got one.

“RUBBISH!” he replied. “Kids have been wearing those rings since I went to school here!”

“Oh, that's great!” I replied happily. “I've been trying to find out where they originated from. Maybe you can tell me something about them, Sir.”

Mr Gowdy's brow wrinkled and his eyes lit up and pierced through me like a laser beam.

“Don't try and pull the wool over my eyes! I know there's a group of you wearing them. In fact, there are two students from each school level with one, and all of them are staying at the boarding house. What sort of secret club are you running?”

We had all been trained to remain calm at a time like this
and I knew if I didn't then Old Gowdy would tear me to shreds with his interrogation. Putting on my most innocent face and working hard at sounding sincere I replied, “No secret club, Mr Gowdy. There are rules against that sort of thing, Sir, and we have been told that clubs aren't allowed. You yourself told us if any one of us were to break the school rules it would mean instant suspension with possible expulsion to follow.

“I love it here way too much to throw it all away on a silly club.”

Mr Gowdy became fidgety and I knew I had him on the ropes. He was a very impatient man, who only liked the sound of his own voice, so the longer I kept talking the more impatient he would become so I continued.

“I wouldn't dare allow temptation to destabilise my position at this remarkable school or jeopardise the good name of Benworden and I would like to...”

“All right, all right!” he interjected. “You've made your point, but if I find out that you or anyone else wearing that ridiculous ring have formed a club the repercussions will be severe!”

Without hesitation I began spouting off again, “Oh, I agree wholeheartedly. If someone dares to challenge your authority, Sir, they deserve all they get.”

“Hmph!” he replied as he turned and marched off down the corridor.

Students quickly backed up against their lockers. They knew from his pronounced march and mumbling that he wasn't in the mood to be messed with.

Sometimes I worried about what might happen if we were found out, not so much for myself but for the other members
and most importantly my parents, but this type of thinking would diminish quickly and was replaced by thoughts of the good work that we'd been doing for those who we felt needed a helping hand.

Years ago when new rooms were being excavated in the club the members had struck a gold vein running through one of the walls. They dug out a large room where it existed and set up a small smelter where they would clean and melt the gold down to make ingots. A partition divided the room and a small office was set up on the other side which contained a desk, chair, computer and a safe that had been secured into the wall. The safe contained ingots, ledgers, stock certificates, a large amount of cash and credit cards.

Over time, the club had set up numerous accounts and registered businesses such as cleaning, along with handyman and mowing franchises. Wages were transferred directly into workers' accounts and the profits that were made were paid directly into the club's business account. We had more money than we needed so we sought out charities and worthwhile causes that could do with a helping hand.

An example of this was Emily Richards, a student at Benworden. Her father was killed in a car accident and her mother Louise had been waiting a long time for her husband's insurance policy to come through. Finances were looking grim for Emily's family and Louise was about to pull Emily out of Benworden as she could no longer afford the fees.

A week before the fees were due an anonymous letter arrived at Emily's house addressed to her mother. The letter read: “Hi Louise, you don't know me but your husband (God rest his soul) helped me out with some money when we were younger. I invested that money wisely and I am now a millionaire. When
the business was young and not turning over a lot of profit I offered to pay him back a little at a time but he refused to take it and jokingly said, ‘Fix me up when you're a millionaire.' We lost touch after a while due to us both working long hours and pursuing our individual careers and when I picked up the paper and read of his tragic death I became overwhelmed with grief and guilt. So although this may seem selfish, I would like you to accept this cheque on behalf of your husband so that I can free my mind of the debt I owe to a good man who helped me become who I am today.

Warm regards, A Friend.”

Enclosed in the envelope was a bank cheque for a sum of money that would keep them going until they were back on their feet. The club felt that the family had been through enough and they knew Emily's mother was a proud woman who wouldn't accept charity, so if it was something owed it was easier for her to accept, which she did.

We also helped other areas of the community with small donations here and there, and other money was spent on gadgets and devices or whatever the club might need.

Mr Gowdy's full-on approach was still dwelling in the back of my mind and I just felt there was something more behind it. He had made me feel like he was a man on a mission and nothing was going to get in his way. We all knew he had his suspicions about the club and this had been well documented in the diaries and log books in our club rooms. All of this dated back to when he was a boarder at Benworden, but today was different; there was urgency and a direct confrontation regarding the rings and the club.

I spoke to Geraldine and she agreed that it was time to get on the offensive and take action of our own, so Roo and Bungles
were asked to go to Mr Gowdy's office that evening and see what they could find.

That night Roo and Bungles took the tunnel to Mr Gowdy's. Once they were directly underneath they grabbed the gaff that was bracketed on the wall, and hooked onto the folding stairs that were attached to the underside of the floor of the office at the top of the tunnel. After pulling the stairs down they climbed up and unlatched the trap door. The floor of the office was covered in 100-year-old marble tiles which were never to be pulled up, as the building was listed with the National Trust. It was four of these tiles that concealed the trap door to the tunnel below. Once inside, the boys began foraging around for any worthwhile information. There was good reason why we selected these two guys – they were great snoops and were most inquisitive when it came to fossicking through other's rooms.

This particular night led to one of the most exciting yet fearful discoveries that they had ever made.

The boys were about to use their skeleton key to unlock the filing cabinet when Bungles stumbled in the dark, dropping his flashlight. The light rolled under Mr Gowdy's desk and when Bungles went to retrieve it he hit his head on a low-lying ledge beneath the desk. Bungles called out to Roo and pointed out this obscure object and both pointed their flashlights upward.

Under the desk was a false drawer. It was hidden from view at the front of the desk by the timber panel and was recessed far enough from the back of the desk where Mr Gowdy sat to make it almost impossible to detect. There were no key holes or handles on it and the boys pushed and prodded but couldn't find a way to open it.

What the boys didn't notice was a drawing pin that had been
dropped by Mr Gowdy by accident. While Bungles was pulling himself into a position where he could get a better look he sat on the pin, catapulting him upright and hitting his head on the front of the object. Somehow this released the hinged front of the hidden draw and revealed what was inside. Bungles now had two lumps on both the front and back of his head which was nothing out of the ordinary for him.