Forest Shadows (2 page)

Jars sighed. Yes, that was her cousin all right, always getting on the bad side of his teachers. He wasn't cruel or nasty. Far from it. When it was important, when it mattered, he knew right from wrong. As strange as it may sound, that was his downfall. When it came to giving his point of view, all tact and all niceties flew out the window. And if he was wronged then, quite simply, he'd pull out all stops to put it right – even the score, so to speak. And sometimes that got him into trouble. But for all his faults, deep down Snook was a soft touch, who'd help anyone if he could – except himself, that is.

‘Anyway, we'll soon find out what he wants,' Jars said, pushing against the office block door and pointing towards another door with a sign that read: ‘Mr Twichette, Principal.'

Snook shoved past her. ‘Yeah, but whatever it is, I betcha it ain't nothin' good.'

S
nook strode into the reception area. Jars, taking more tentative steps, followed. Mrs Cherry, who was sitting in her usual glassed-in workspace, raised her head and without saying a word, pointed towards the closed door of the principal's office. Jars didn't like the smug look that had spread across her face when Snook knocked on the principal's office door. She knows something we don't, Jars thought not liking her self-righteous, hoity-toity stare. She joined Snook and then waited outside the closed office door.

‘Enter!' Mr Twichette summoned. Snook pushed the door open and sauntered into the office. He wasn't gonna be intimi-dated. No way.

As an Aboriginal, Jars had been brought up to respect her elders. She edged into the room, head bowed, slightly embarrassed by her cousin's bravado. Some people took her initial deference to others as shyness; it wasn't; it was more a show of consideration. She waited for Mr Twichette to speak, still wondering what he wanted.

She stared at the grey office carpet, waiting.

Silence.

She lifted her head a fraction. Snook, legs apart, hands on hips, was not suffering from any shyness at all; he was currently trading stares with the principal as if to say,
okay, why am I here?

Mr Twichette, his sharp, angular face poking out of a baggy, dark suit, was sitting behind his desk, eying Snook with down-turned, twisted lips that somehow suggested a permanent sarcasm. When he spoke, he did so whilst peering over glasses that sat on his nose. They didn't hide his small, round, eyes. All the kids called him Twitchy.

Tapping a biro on his desk, he stared at them as though deep in thought. His eyes, unblinking and black like peri-winkles on a rock, looked as though they were going to pop. He shook his head slowly from side to side, first at Snook then Jars.

‘I'm shocked!' Despite his thin, beanpole looks, his voice boomed. ‘I can believe it of you, Snook Kelly, but you, Jacinta? I'm shocked.'

Jars shuffled her feet and tentatively lifted her eyes once again. Being called Jacinta raised her hackles; she preferred Jars. She said, ‘I'm sorry, Mr Twichette, but I really don't know what you mean.'

As though suddenly conscious of his tapping, Mr Twichette stopped. He stuck the pen in the top pocket of his jacket. Humphing to himself, he repositioned his glasses that had somehow slid down his nose. Jars noticed one of his legs bouncing up and down under the desk.

Snook lifted his arms and shrugged. ‘I dunno know what you mean neither.'

‘Then I shall tell you. You were both in Mr Pearson's shop at dinnertime. You told Mr Pearson that you wanted to look at the rock collection he had on display. Trusting you, he agreed. When he was attending to another customer, you two had disappeared with the collection
.
Now, I ask you, was that by magic or by some other means?' He waited for an answer, now drumming his fingers on the desktop.

‘What?' Snook couldn't help himself. ‘You're accusin' us of stealin'? That's not right. We'd never …'

‘Yes! I am,' Mr Twichette interrupted. ‘Of theft, and you have exactly ten seconds to tell me what you've done with the stolen items. Starting now.

Ten!'

‘It wasn't us, was it Jars?' Snook said, glancing sideways at his cousin. ‘There's no way we'd do anythin' like pinchin' stuff.'

‘Nine seconds!'

Jars brushed a lock of black hair from her eyes; then, surprising herself with her boldness, raised her head, meeting Mr Twichette's gaze. ‘No, it definitely wasn't us. We didn't do anything wrong. It must have been somebody else.'

‘Oh? And was there anyone else in the shop? Besides Mr Pearson's customer that is.' His words were clipped, sarcastic. His head started to bob up and down.

‘Eight seconds!'

‘Our home teacher gave us permission to go to the shop during the lunch hour,' Jars tried to explain. ‘We needed to find out a few things for our class project. It's about the area's old mining industry.'

‘You surprise me Jacinta Kelly. You really do.' His words were becoming more caustic, biting. ‘When your aunt and uncle learn of this, there's no telling what they'll do. Send you back to the Northern Territory perhaps.

Seven!'

‘Now just a minute!' Snook stepped forward. He shook a finger in Mr Twichette's direction. ‘First of all, like Jars said, we didn't do nothin', and second, my Mum and Dad would never do somethin' like that, send her back. She's part of our family now.'

Mr Twichette snatched the biro from his pocket and pointed it at Snook. ‘Getting yourself into hot water is not new to you, is it Snook Kelly? I've lost count of the times you've graced this office, although I wouldn't have thought shoplifting your style. Practical jokes and getting into fights is your usual thing, isn't it? However, when it's all said and done, I wouldn't put anything past you.' He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk, clasping his hands. He lowered his chin to his hands and peered over the top of his glasses like a judge about to pass sentence.

‘Six!'

Jars and Snook looked at each other. Snook shrugged and rolled his eyes. Jars shook her head slightly. Keep your cool, Snook, she tried to signal, don't let Twitchy get to you.

Mr Twichette's eyes fell on Jars who stood silently, hands clutched in front of her, head bowed once again. He shifted his gaze to Snook, chin jutting, looking defiant. ‘Nothing to say? Either of you? What about you, Jacinta? You should have enough sense to own up.'

Jars continued to stare at the carpet. Mr Twichette rubbed the back of his neck as though he'd developed a twinge. He stopped rubbing and leaned forward. ‘Kindly look at me when I address you, Miss Kelly. I don't enjoy talking to the back of your head.' Jars raised her eyes a smidgen, cringing at his words. He doesn't believe us, she told herself; he's not listening.

Mr Twichette continued. ‘I still can't get my head around your doing such a thing, Jacinta – stealing! No doubt you were influenced by him.' He jabbed a finger in Snook's direction. ‘Nevertheless, I want to hear the truth, from both of you. Now!'

Before Jars could reply, Mr Twichette banged the top of the desk with his fist. ‘Five!'

Snook shook his head from side to side causing his long, fair hair to bounce. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other and folded his arms. ‘Look, Mr Twichette,' he blurted, blue eyes flashing, ‘For the last time, we didn't take no stupid rocks.'

Mr Twichette sat back in his chair, clasping his hands over his chest. His lips flattened into a smile, rich with scorn. Then, in a low, kind of creepy, syrupy voice, he said, ‘Is that so? Well the facts seem very clear to me, Master Kelly. You were both in Mr Pearson's jewellery shop during the lunch break. You both left the premises and, lo and behold, some very valuable items left, too. I'm sure both of you will agree that it would have been impossible for someone else to have taken them. Unless they were invisible. So tell me the truth. Why did you do it and where is Mr Pearson's rock collection now?

Four!' he shouted, reverting to his blustering self.

Snook unfolded his arms, and said, ‘You're dead wrong. It's like Jars told you already; we was just lookin' at all the gems and minerals and stuff. It was for a project on mining.'

Mr Twichette looked at the ceiling and then rocked forward in his chair. ‘Twaddle!'

Jars stepped forward. Twitchy wasn't listening to her or Snook. It wasn't fair. She decided to do something about it. Blow it all, she'd stand up to him. ‘Look, Mr Twichette, what Snook says is true. It's dead wrong of you to accuse us, especially since you haven't any proof, so for the last time, we didn't steal a thing. That's the truth!'

Taken by surprise at Jars' uncharacteristic outburst, Mr Twichette's bottom lip quivered and his beady eyes widened. Recovering, he slammed a hand down on the desk. ‘It goes without saying that I don't believe you, Miss Kelly, or Snook. Therefore, you may like to know that Mr Pearson is considering involving the police, and having heard your feeble excuses, it is an action that I now agree with. That is most unfortunate – for you and the school. It will bring shame on you and your families and it will bring shame on this institution. However, that may be avoided if the stolen items are returned. Forthwith! Three!'

Jars glanced at her cousin. Lips clamped and face turning a dark purple, he looked as though he was about to explode. Not that she blamed him. Twitchy was being a real pain. Still, she'd better say something.

‘Mr Twichette, I apologise for what I said before, but we
are
telling the truth about the project. Miss Sweetman gave us permission to go down the street to do research in Mr Pearson's shop. You could ask her.'

‘Hmph, project or no project, I still believe you stole those goods.' He opened a drawer and took out an official-looking form. Then, after waving his pen above it in a sort of preamble, he began to write. ‘You leave me no choice. You will be suspended until further notice.' He clicked the pen shut and waved the completed form in the air as if to emphasise his point. ‘I have already tried to telephone your parents to inform them of the whole sordid situation. Unfortunately, there was no one at home, so I shall be writing to them instead.' He glanced at his watch. It was ten past two. ‘For now, go directly to the detention room and stay there until it's time for the school bus. Monday is Labour Day holiday, so between now and Tuesday you need to decide your action – to return the collection or not. If not, I shall make your suspension formal and you will have to live with the consequences. I hope that is all perfectly clear.' He threw the pen on the desk. The cross-examination was over.

Without answering, Jars and Snook turned and quickly walked out of the room. Snook, his face now a deep plum colour, led the way past a staring Mrs Cherry, who'd been listening and probably enjoying, the shouts and bangs coming from office. They stepped out of the building into the yard. ‘At least he didn't finish his stupid countin',' Snook mumbled as he swung open the detention room door.

S
nook, followed by Jars, stepped off the school bus, just up the road from their house in Cray Bay. ‘What a nightmare!' Snook said as he slung his school bag over his shoulder. ‘I sure coulda' bopped that Jim Thompson one.'

Jars, who had spent the entire bus ride trying to stop Snook from reacting to the jeers and name calling coming from some of the kids at the back of the bus, looked across at her cousin. ‘I'm pleased you didn't. We're in enough trouble as it is.'

‘Yeah, but it wasn't fair what they were sayin' about us – callin' us crooks and thieves and other stuff. Anyway, how'd they know we were in strife? It's queer.'

‘I don't really know,' Jars said shaking her head, ‘but I'd be surprised if it wasn't that Mrs Cherry who tattled and if she did it would have spread like wildfire. She's known as a bit of a gossip and she would have heard Twitchy's rantings for sure. They were loud enough.'

'If it was her, she's done a darn good job. We're gonna be judged guilty by everyone in school before long. Probably by everyone in town, too. Includin' Mum and Dad. It's not fair.'

‘Life isn't always fair.'

‘Nah, sometimes it just sucks.'

A
fter getting off the bus and leaving the insults behind, Snook and Jars began the short walk home. They walked in silence. There was nothing more to say. Not really.

As usual, Shadow, Jars' German shepherd dog, was waiting for them by the front gate of the Kelly house. It was also where Jars now lived. Following the deaths of her parents in the Northern Territory, her aunt and uncle, Mr and Mrs Kelly, had taken her in. ‘G'day, boy,' Jars said as she opened the gate. She patted his head. ‘Hope you've had a better day than us.'

Shadow, grinning and wagging his tail, bounced around them as they made their way across the lawn, soft and squelchy from recent rain, a common occurrence on Tasmania's west coast. Skirting the 44-gallon drum, whose permanent home seemed to be next to the garden shed, they climbed the few steps to the front verandah. ‘So you hope Shadow's had a better day than us?' Snook said as he opened the door. ‘I hope so, too, but you know what? It's gonna get worse. Dad'll go mental when he hears about all this.'

Jars and Shadow followed Snook inside. ‘Yes, and it won't be long till somebody tells him,' she said to his back, placing her schoolbag on the lobby floor. ‘And that's not all. The whole town will know soon. The schoolkids will tell their parents and their parents will tell others. The whole place will be abuzz.'

Snook crossed into the kitchen. ‘There'll be all sorts of crazy rumours. Just wait and see. I can see the high spots now: Cray Bay's crime wave … Desperate students steal fortune … Jewel heist by schoolies. Strike me dead, I wouldn't be surprised if the Sixty Minutes programme turned up. But what the heck.