To Kill a Bunyip Page 3

  ~~~~~

  A quiet seaside town.

  Coastal country urban villages abound throughout the world. Each village has its own personality. The local industry of each village is based on its connectivity to the waterways the village was formed on. What was once a group of fishermen’s huts transforms into a support network of industry supplying seafood to towns and cities. Null’s history was fishing and like many remote villages an influx of tourists later become an avalanche of retirees. Null was in this transition of mixed economic change with a network of minor industry supporting primary industry. The fishing fleet remained as the primary industry with each person, tourist or resident, benefitting from the varied trades people and professional people to sustain and maintain the infrastructure. The totality of life in Null was based around weather.

  Schools, always the battleground between personalities of students and teachers, and at Null High School a teacher/student interview was underway. . . .

  The silence was deliberate as Eloise Buchanan waited for an answer. Penelope Dawson shuffled in her seat.

  ‘I can’t answer that Miss,’ Penelope Dawson answered.

  ‘Penelope, I haven’t got all day and in fact I haven’t got all week. I will not be here after Friday and you are the last student I am completing a review for New Brunswick High School,’ Eloise Buchanan said.

  Eloise Buchanan folded her arms and stared at Penelope.

  ‘New Brunswick High? I thought this was for my sports allowance for Noosa. What has New Brunswick High got to do with me?’

  ‘Penelope, you were a Grade A student at Maryborough before you and your brother came to Null High School. You and your brother had to wait, because it was a mid-term placement, and both of you were waiting for a student to leave New Brunswick High. Jack went straight in after a seat was found for him. A vacancy occurred because a student left to go to another school. In the mean time, your schoolwork dropped below your usual standard. This meant you stayed at Null High. The whole of the New Brunswick Shire has students wanting to get acceptance to New Brunswick High School. Now Penelope I will ask you again. Do you want to stay at school here in Null?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean. I come to school I go home. Simple. Do I have to like the school or being at school to be accepted here?’

  ‘Ok. We are getting somewhere. Penelope, do you ever study at home?’

  ‘No Miss I don’t. I get bored in class because I know most of what is said, and I learn fast. The teachers just go on and on. I get bored at school and I don’t care because I can’t leave because I am too young and my mother wouldn’t let me anyway.’

  Slowly Eloise Buchanan put each folder to one side of the desk. One folder deliberately stacked on top each other. When the desk was clear, Eloise Buchanan stared at Penelope.

  ‘And when did this all start? When did this change of attitude happen? Your reports from Maryborough High School indicate to me a student who loved the art of learning. Who I have sitting in front of me is someone else. Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. I do like English and poetry and stuff but nothing else.’

  ‘You are a twin. How long between you and your brother being born? Do you know that?’

  ‘One hour. What has that to do with high school?’

  ‘Penelope, Null is a small place. I live here too and I move around in different sports too. You’ve seen me in the Dragon Boat training. I see a young girl crying out for help and I am going to see before this day is out that you get it. Now tell me. What is it about English you like?’

  ‘I want to write when I get older. My aunt was a journalist and now works from home. She studied to be a Proof Reader and works for a major company in Brisbane but most of the work is done at home via the Internet at Noosa.’ Penelope said.

  ‘Right. As far as I am concerned, your schoolwork would only get you money from social security to buy a newspaper, not write for one. Now, there is another thing. Your win at Noosa recently. I hear from the grapevine you also intend to be a champion on the world Pro Surfer circuit. Is that right?’ Eloise Buchanan said as she shuffled a few folders on the desk.

  ‘Yes,’ Penelope said as she lowered her head.

  ‘Penny, you prefer to be called Penny, I know that. Do you know my history in sport?’

  ‘No, Mrs Buchanan, I don’t.’

  ‘I was eighteen playing for the Australia B side in Hockey. Once I played for the A side when Holland played Australia in a Friendly in Melbourne. All my hopes were riding on that one game. I played well. We were beaten. I never got a call up again. Not long after I was playing State again and then Regional Hockey. I lived for Hockey. Practiced continually and finally I learnt the hard way. There is always someone who can do it better. I returned to study and became a schoolteacher. Now, if you followed my path you’d be wasting half your life because life is different now and there are plenty of other winners who move up in grade too.’

  The silence returned with Penelope staring at her feet.

  ‘Penny, I don’t have time to be wasting time here with a review with a student who refuses to learn. Is there anything, any reason I should continue? Have you written a poem I can show Mr Benson the English teacher? Is there a reason I can leave this education system knowing you will pay attention in at least one class?’

  ‘I wrote a short story recently. Would that help?’

  ‘Good. We are getting somewhere. I have hope that wind is coming in the sails. Can you get me a copy of it please?’

  ‘I have a copy of it, here in my bag. You can read it if you want to. It is only short. I made half of it up. The other half is true. I researched the things that happened to Charlie before I saw him. He only wants to cuddle into me at home and when he does I sit and write about him.’

  Penny reached into her bag and placed the folder on Eloise Buchanan’s desk. Eloise Buchanan reached over, continuing her gaze on Penny and fumbled open to the first page.

  ‘I will quickly read this. It could mean a difference to the outcome for you.’

  Eloise Buchanan sat and read Penny’s story with increased attention to each word. Penny sat in quietness contemplating the school Principal’s facial twitches and tightening of lips. Wondering the meaning of the body and face changes. Did it mean the school Principal hated her book? Penny knew her writings had not had much acceptance at home but this book was different.

  ‘My god Penelope Dawson. I had tears flowing down my cheeks. What a story. Is this the first draft?’

  ‘First what? I don’t know what you mean?’

  Eloise Buchanan shuffled in her seat again, cleared her throat, and wiped the under-side skin of each eye dry.

  ‘Penny, you don’t mind if I dispense with this Penelope stuff do you. The first draft is the first writing before you improve it and write a second draft.’

  ‘I haven’t finished it yet Mrs Buchanan. The story has to be finished but I haven’t thought of an end yet.’

  ‘Penny, this is brilliant for a first draft written as your first story. It made me cry and I loved the part where you described Charlie in the hollow log and the events of the night after he made his escape. All right. If New Brunswick High takes students with musical abilities, it also, I know, takes students with writing abilities.’

  ‘But.’

  ‘No buts Penny. Penny, do you realise the effort needed to correct grammar, punctuation, storyline. Take out the prosaic and replace it with quality writing. Writing, writing a novel, takes a lot of learning. Writing is a craft and even though you are a natural, if you study with other students also learning the craft of writing, it will take years before you could get a job as a journalist. What say, you do a test for me today and I send a copy of this away to Educational North Region for a special placement into New Brunswick High Writing Program? A national writing competition is on soon. We will leave that for the moment. Penny, if you get accepted, will you go and put the effort in required to become a professional writer?’

&nb
sp; ‘Ah - I don’t think I could make the grade. That story is not that good and whether anybody – ah - can I think about it?’

  ‘Penny, I leave here Friday. Here no more. If I can get the submission in by tonight, it will be processed with me pestering them. After Friday it is possible it would be lost in the procedures of never never land. Will you take a test today and let me submit this story? Do you have another copy of it?’

  ‘Ok, I’ll do the test. Yes, I have another copy at home. You can take that one.’ Penny said.

  ‘Thank you Penny. Penny, until Friday I am Mrs Buchanan to you. After I leave here as a school principal, when you see me at the yacht club with the Dragon Boat crew, I am Eloise. Alright? Thanks Penny, leave it with me. After lunch break, you will be called from your class. It doesn’t take long. And Penny - in regard what you wrote - love was the issue for Charlie - all I have to say is - one day you will find out someone loves you.’

  ‘Thanks, I don’t know what you mean but I will write it into my note book. May I ask what the test is for?’ Penny asked.

  ‘Mensa. It’s a Mensa test Penny. Bye Penny, thanks for the opportunity to work with you and my last student review is now over.’ Said Eloise Buchanan soon to be retired Principal of Null High School.