Chapter 23

I made my way to the changing room to get changed for the cross-country training session. When I got there, I found a notice pinned to the door saying ‘Cross-country training cancelled’. After the ordeal of the race on Sunday I wasn’t too upset at missing out on a training session, but it was annoying that I wouldn’t be able to ask Coach Budd about photographs of the presentation ceremonies. I’d have to keep an eye out for him around school.

I took my running kit back to my locker. The school was nearly empty by now. My nerd group had already left and I presumed Maria D’Angelou had Drama Club She’d be the best part of two hours before she was ready to leave, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to walk home with her anyway.

The sensible thing would have been to walk home on my own and use the opportunity to get the massive amount of homework under control. But I looked at Eugenie Butler-Walker’s rainbow double helix on my locker door and succumbed to an irrational sense of bravery.

I made my way to the Art Department and knocked on Mrs Crocker’s door, half-hoping she wasn’t in.

“Come in,” she called. She wasn’t very happy when she saw who it was. “What do you want?” she snapped.

“Coach Budd cancelled this evening’s cross-country training session, so I’ve come to serve my detention if it’s convenient.”

“Is this a prank?”

“No, ma’am. You caught me indulging in a public display of affection with Eugenie Butler-Walker fair and square. I did the crime so I should do the time.”

Mrs Crocker sighed. “Can I tell you something in confidence?”

I nodded.

“Eugenie Butler-Walker is the most talented student I’ve ever encountered,” said Mrs Crocker. “Her works resonate with the audience. She may not be on trend but she will endure. If she is allowed to fulfill her full potential, I can see her work being highly sought-after for decades. I’m just trying to protect her so she can concentrate on her future.”

“I agree,” I said. “The door of my locker belongs in an art gallery, not in a school where it’s not appreciated and it’s susceptible to vandalism, but I don’t know who to ask to remove it for safekeeping.”

“That’s a good point,” she mused. “I wonder if I can come to an arrangement with Mr Peters. That painting of the rainbows dancing is brilliant.”

“It’s even better than that,” I said. “It’s a double helix. Eugenie linked sexual orientation and genetics.”

“Oh my! I never realised,” Mrs Crocker admitted.

“By the way, I owe five dollars for the artwork,” I said.

“No, you’re the reason the art students undertook their rainbow-painting initiative. You got your locker done for free.”

“The first time perhaps, but Eugenie had to do it a second time after her first design was ruined by graffiti. And the promise of five dollars was what earned me that kiss.”

I didn’t tell Mrs Crocker I had seen the video and observed her watching us kiss, but she knew what I was talking about.

“I’d better take your money then,” she said.

I handed over my five dollars to Mrs Crocker and she noted it in a ledger.

“Thank you,” she said. “I guess I’d better find something disgusting for you to do.”

It had been going so well between us that I was half expecting her to let me off scot-free, but sadly it wasn’t to be.

“The Art Department’s paintbrushes need a thorough clean,” she said. “Students are supposed to clean them after use but all too often they’re in a rush to get out of here.” Mrs Crocker showed me the storage cupboard where the paintbrushes were kept. “Here’s the brush cleaner,” she said, handing me a plastic bottle. “Clean the brushes with it, then rinse them off in the sink.”

I started rounding up all the paintbrushes. Some of them were in a really bad state. I could see why the Art Department needed more funds.

“Here’s an apron and some rubber gloves,” said Mrs Crocker. “Use them or you’ll get your clothes all messed up.”

I set to work. It was mind-numbingly boring, but I guess that was the whole point.

Mrs Crocker interrupted my concentration. “Your hour’s up Mr Randell. I must say you’ve done an excellent job.”

“Thanks. I do some of the painting at home, and my dad taught me how important it is to take care for your brushes.”

Mrs Crocker’s voice softened. “I have to admit I never thought I’d see you here serving your detention. And you’ve triggered some ideas about what to do with your locker door, if only I can get Mr Peters to agree. I misjudged you Mr Randell, you’re one of the good guys.”

“Thanks.”

I stripped out of the apron and rubber gloves and bolted before Mrs Crocker submitted to the ‘give the gay boy a hug’ compulsion.

I was still too early to walk home with Maria so I walked home on my own. Mum wasn’t home yet and Terri wasn’t around so I sent an acknowledgement of receipt of a massive e-mail from Dimitri containing the originals of the newspaper editions I had asked for, then started on my homework. I was so intent on my assignments that I didn’t realise my family were home until I was called down to dinner.

“You were pretty intense up there,” Terri said to me over dinner. “I looked in on you but you totally ignored me.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t even aware of you entering my room. I think the teachers conspired to give us a mountain of homework tonight. I reckon I’m over halfway through but that still leaves me with plenty to do.”

“When you get to Kevin’s age, you’ll have that much homework too,” Dad said to Terri.

“Right, I’m going to drop all the nerdy subjects Kevin likes and take subjects that don’t hand out much homework,” said Terri.

Mum shook her head. I guessed that meant it was the subject for a future discussion but I didn’t think Terri really meant what she’d said.