No Rules (6 page)

Several days later, Friday and Melanie were emerging from their history lesson where they had been studying the history of the bikini (that was what the class had democratically decided they were most interested in), when Nigel, a third form boy, came running towards them.

‘Barnes, Barnes!' panted Nigel. ‘Please, you've got to come with me. He needs your help again.'

‘Who?' asked Friday. Although she suspected she
knew the answer. Nigel had a particularly dim-witted roommate who Friday had assisted before.

‘It's Parker,' said Nigel. ‘He's in trouble.'

‘What's he done this time?' asked Friday.

‘He fell asleep on the polo pitch last night,' said Nigel.

‘Really?' said Friday. ‘I find polo boring, but I don't find it
that
boring.'

‘It sounds like the type of thing I would do,' said Melanie.

‘That's just it,' said Nigel. ‘It doesn't make any sense.'

‘Didn't it rain last night?' said Friday. ‘There was definitely rumbling of thunder in the distance.'

‘It must have rained hard,' said Nigel, ‘because Parker was soaked to the skin when they found him.'

‘Who found him?' asked Friday.

‘The polo team,' said Nigel. ‘They have a 6 am practice session.'

‘That sounds very early,' said Friday.

‘They have to practise harder because Ian has been expelled,' said Melanie. ‘He was the best player on the team.'

‘So where is Parker now?' asked Friday, ignoring Melanie's reference to Ian.

‘He's in sick bay, being treated for hypothermia,' said Nigel.

‘I would have thought he'd be happy about that,' said Friday. ‘He likes lying around doing nothing.'

‘Yes, but he's got an assignment due today,' said Nigel.

‘Not with Mr Spencer?' asked Friday.

‘It is with Mr Spencer,' said Nigel. ‘And you know how much he hates Parker.'

Friday nodded. The answer was a lot. ‘But I thought all marks were determined by VP Pete's self-assessment scheme now?' said Friday.

‘Mr Spencer did give Parker a chance to do a self-assessment,' said Nigel.

‘What happened?' asked Friday.

‘He failed himself,' said Nigel.

‘Why?' asked Friday.

‘Honesty,' said Nigel. ‘Parker said he knew better than anyone that he had no idea about chemistry.'

‘So not only is Parker seriously ill,' said Friday, ‘there's a good chance he will have to repeat chemistry.'

‘That would make him seriously ill just to consider,' said Melanie.

‘Please, Barnes, you've got to help him,' said Nigel. ‘I think Parker has been the victim of some
sort of mischief. There must be a reason he was out on the pitch in the pouring rain. I know he's stupid, but he's not
that
stupid.'

‘It does sound like a prank gone wrong,' said Friday.

‘If you do help,' said Nigel, ‘I'm sure Parker will pay you. In fact,
I'll
pay you. I'll let you steal anything you like that belongs to him from our room.'

‘Has he got anything I'd want?' asked Friday.

‘He's got a lot of Batman comics,' said Nigel.

‘Not interested,' said Friday.

‘A genuine limited-edition double-ended light sabre,' said Nigel.

‘Just because I love science, doesn't mean I'm a nerd,' said Friday.

‘At least not that kind of nerd,' said Melanie.

‘His aunt sent him a fifty-dollar note,' said Nigel.

‘Was it his birthday?' asked Melanie.

‘No, it was for growing over 171 centimetres tall,' said Nigel. ‘He's the first male in his family to be above average height for three generations.'

‘But the average male height is 175 centimetres tall,' said Friday.

‘His aunt is eighty-six, so she's still going on 1930s statistics,' said Nigel.

‘Fifty dollars will do,' said Friday. ‘We'll check it out.'

Sick bay was just along the corridor from the Headmaster's office, so none of the secretarial staff batted an eye as Friday walked in with Nigel and Melanie. She was so frequently summoned to the Headmaster's office, usually to be yelled at, that they didn't think to question her reason for being there. As the three of them walked down the corridor they could hear yelling, but this time it wasn't the Headmaster.

‘It's just not good enough!'

‘Isn't that Mr Pilcher's voice?' asked Melanie.

Mr Pilcher was the school groundskeeper. He was a retired army man, and always wore the same tan-coloured work clothes. He prided himself on attending to the school's gardens with military efficiency.

‘Yes,' said Friday.

‘I wouldn't have thought that someone who works with plants all day could get that angry,' said Melanie.

‘The students at this school are a disgrace!' yelled Mr Pilcher.

‘It's just a few sweet peas,' said the Headmaster soothingly.

‘A few sweet peas?! A FEW SWEET PEAS?!' yelled Mr Pilcher.

‘He'll end up in sick bay in a minute,' said Friday. ‘From having had an anger-induced stroke.'

‘Well, I know who did it,' said Mr Pilcher. ‘It's those boys in the medieval re-enactment club. They're always pulling up my canes and pretending they're swords. But goodness knows why they had to go and burn down that dead elm tree on the edge of the swamp!'

‘Well, it was dead,' said the Headmaster. ‘It will save you having to chop it down.'

‘That's not the point!' yelled Mr Pilcher. ‘They shouldn't be interfering with my plants, whether they're alive or dead!'

‘I'll look into it,' said the Headmaster. ‘Would you like a chocolate biscuit?'

This apparently mollified Mr Pilcher because there was no more yelling. Nigel knocked on the door to sick bay and let himself in.

‘I've brought someone to see you,' said Nigel.

‘Hello,' said Friday.

‘Hello, Barnes. Hello, Pelly,' said Parker. ‘Are you sick too?'

Parker was lying in bed. He looked pale and tired, but apart from that, much the same as usual.

‘No, Nigel was worried about you,' said Friday. ‘He's paying me fifty dollars of your money to figure out what happened to you.'

‘Apparently I fell asleep in the rain,' said Parker, shifting the pillows so he could sit up a bit more.

‘Yes, but that is odd behaviour,' said Friday. ‘Is there any reason you might have chosen to do it? Perhaps you couldn't get to sleep and you thought a cold shower of rain might help? Or perhaps you were stargazing, fell asleep and got caught in the rain?'

‘Sorry, I just don't know,' said Parker, shaking his head. ‘I haven't got the foggiest. I can't remember anything after dinner last night.'

‘Do you have a history of sleepwalking?' asked Melanie. ‘That's my favourite way to get exercise.'

‘I don't think so,' said Parker. He concentrated hard. ‘But if I was asleep when I was doing it, I wouldn't be the one to ask, would I? You'd have to ask Nigel.'

‘Not that I've noticed,' said Nigel. ‘But I'm a sound sleeper.'

‘Hmm,' said Friday. ‘Do you remember what you were talking about over dinner?'

‘Oh, yes,' said Parker, suddenly remembering. ‘The curry pie. It was disgusting!'

‘I liked it,' said Melanie. ‘I thought it was very tasty.'

‘Too tasty,' said Parker, with a grimace. ‘Mrs Marigold has developed an unnatural obsession with coriander. It's like having toothpaste mixed in with your dinner.'

‘Coriander is a very commonly used herb in South East Asian and subcontinent cooking,' said Friday.

‘Poor devils,' said Parker. ‘You'd think the United Nations would step in and intervene. Show them how to cook a good sausage or something.'

‘Aside from the pie, did you have anything on your mind?' asked Friday. ‘Anything troubling you?'

‘Not at all,' said Parker. ‘I'm not one for dwelling on things.'

‘You were worried about your history lesson,' Nigel reminded him.

‘Oh, yes,' said Parker, frowning as he remembered.
‘We've been studying Benjamin Franklin. Painfully dull man. Spent so much of his life worrying about postage stamps. It made it very hard to stay awake.'

‘And you were worried about your assignment for Mr Spencer,' added Nigel.

‘I was?' said Parker. ‘Oh yes, you see that's exactly the type of thing I try to avoid thinking about.'

‘So what was your extra credit assignment for Mr Spencer?' asked Friday.

‘That's just the problem,' said Parker, throwing up his hands in frustration. ‘I could do anything. Anything at all. It's all part of VP Pete's new freedom policies. Now, how am I meant to narrow it down from that? Deciding what to do is harder than the assignment.'

‘There must have been some parameters,' said Friday.

‘Not really,' said Parker. ‘I just had to do an experiment about anything I liked, then write up my method and results. Mr Spencer said I was such a terrible student it was the least challenging assignment he could think of to give me.'

‘Interesting,' said Friday. She stood up and walked over to the counter where the school nurse
had written up a report on Parker's condition. ‘It says here your core body temperature was 35.5 degrees.'

‘Yes,' said Parker, pulling the blankets up closer to his chin. ‘And I'm not telling you how she measured that. Suffice it to say, I feel violated.'

‘Aside from that, you feel well?' asked Friday.

‘Fine,' said Parker. ‘A bit achy. But I suppose that's to be expected from sleeping on a field in the cold rain.'

Friday continued reading the report. ‘The nurse has written that she administered one standard-sized band-aid. Where did she apply it?'

‘Oh, that's nothing,' said Parker. ‘I had a sore finger. Just a blister.'

‘Really?' said Friday. ‘May I see?'

‘There's nothing to see,' said Parker. ‘She put a band-aid over it.' Parker held up his hand to show them. The band-aid had a picture of a pirate on it.

‘Nice,' approved Melanie. ‘I like a cheerful band-aid.'

‘Did you have this blister before you slept on the field?' asked Friday.

‘I don't think so,' said Parker, looking at his finger. ‘But I did poke my curry pie several times, so it might be a curry burn.'

‘Intriguing,' said Friday. ‘Nigel, tell me: did anything go missing from your dorm room last night? Other than Parker, of course.'

‘No,' said Nigel.

‘Are you sure?' asked Friday. ‘No lightweight clothing or large sheets of paper?'

‘No … well, actually, yes!' said Nigel. ‘My Spiderman poster went missing from the wall. But I assumed some bully in sixth form took it. They took our sheets and blankets last week, just for a laugh.'

‘Parker, do you have your room key?' asked Friday.

‘It'd be in my trouser pocket,' said Parker, pointing to where his wet clothes were draped over a chair at the side of the room.

Melanie was closest so she picked up the trousers and checked. ‘It's not here.'

‘Barnes!'

Friday turned to see the Headmaster standing in the doorway. ‘What are you doing here?' he demanded. ‘You should be in class.'

‘I'm investigating Parker's mysterious accident,' said Friday.

‘And admiring his band-aid,' added Melanie.

‘There's nothing mysterious about it,' said the Headmaster. ‘The fool just took a nap in a rainstorm. He does dim-witted things like that all the time.'

‘Actually, Headmaster, you are entirely wrong,' said Friday. ‘But before I take you through what really happened, I insist you call an ambulance. Parker should be examined by a cardiologist immediately.'

‘But I've just got a sore finger,' protested Parker.

‘No, you haven't,' said Friday. ‘Well, technically, yes, you have. But in this instance, the small blister on your finger is a symptom of a much more serious incident.'

‘It is?' asked Parker.

‘You were struck by lightning,' said Friday.

‘Preposterous!' said the Headmaster.

‘Cool!' said Nigel.

‘It is the only explanation that makes sense,' said Friday.

‘It doesn't sound sensible at all,' said the Headmaster.

‘Parker was given the assignment of conducting an experiment, any experiment,' said Friday. ‘He is not a terribly bright or knowledgeable boy.'

‘It's true,' agreed Parker, nodding. Melanie patted him on the hand sympathetically.

‘He couldn't think of an experiment,' said Friday. ‘His understanding of the principles of science is so poor he barely knows what an experiment is.'

‘I wanted to ask,' said Parker, ‘but I felt silly bringing it up after I'd been studying science for four years.'