I nod and we head past people with prams, screaming toddlers and bunches of teenagers standing around looking at their shoes. Even though we’re not making any hard turns, we’re not travelling in a straight line either. Also, the floor must be sloping downwards so gently you can hardly notice it, but I know I’m not imagining it because people are pushing their trolleys towards us with effort – they’re going uphill.

  Suddenly Grandpa pulls me into a shop crammed full of people. The smell of perfume nearly knocks me out. Those lucky enough to be leaving the shop are all carrying a fancy paper bag with handles made of rope. I look around through stinging eyes. The whole shop is full of smelly candles and smelly candle-related things. The candles have names that don’t even make sense, like ‘Dawn Blossom’ and ‘Midnight Shine’.

  A lady in a flowery apron asks us what kind of candle we want before we’ve had a chance to look properly at any of them. When we tell her that Grandma likes fruit, she gets too excited and uses a stepladder to bring a candle from the top shelf, even though there are literally hundreds of candles within reach. The candle she brings down isn’t even a particularly fancy one. Even the name is disappointing – ‘Lime 25 cm’.

  ‘Now we need to find one for you to give her,’ Grandpa says to me.

  ‘We can’t both give her a candle.’

  ‘No, I suppose not. What about one of these?’ He points to a wire thing with a little bowl in the middle.

  ‘Okay, but what is it?’

  ‘They’re very popular,’ the lady says. ‘That is what we have in the diffuser at the moment. You put the oil in the bowl, light the candle and this lovely fragrance fills the room!’

  I say ‘No!’ so loudly the lady jumps. I don’t want to buy the smell and take it home.

  The lady doesn’t go away, so we need to choose something. Grandpa knows it too, although we don’t say anything to each other.

  ‘This looks good.’ I hold up a see-through patterned globe with a candle in the middle. ‘The globes have flowers or cities or triangles.’

  I can tell straightaway that Grandpa likes the globe better than his candle.

  ‘How about you give her this and I’ll give her the candle?’ I suggest.

  ‘Let’s forget about the candle,’ Grandpa says. ‘We’ll get one of these nice globe things and say it’s from both of us. Which one, do you reckon?’

  ‘I like the city one,’ I say, ‘but I think Grandma likes patterns. How about the triangles?’

  ‘Agreed,’ Grandpa says, smiling.

  Now the lady with the flowery apron will have to climb up the ladder to put Lime 25 cm back on the top shelf. She probably tries to sell it to everyone.

  After Grandpa pays for the globe, we walk out of the shop with our fancy rope-handled bag. Grandpa is pretty happy. He’s holding the bag so tightly I can see the white of his knuckles.

  ‘Well?’ He laughs. ‘What do you think of your old grandpa now? Mission accomplished, in under twenty minutes! A record! It must be a record!’ he shouts.

  It’s impressive but embarrassing too because people are staring at us.

  When we step out of the automatic doors into the carpark though, Grandpa has another look on his face. It’s the same look he gets when we ask him if he’s doing online banking yet.

  That’s when I know we’ve lost the car.

  I look at the rows and rows of cars in all directions. I can’t see poles in any colour, let alone yellow. While Grandpa’s car stands out, it’s normal-sized and we’re in four-wheel drive territory here – nothing smaller than a garden shed on wheels. Even if our car was two metres away, we wouldn’t be able to see it unless we were on top of it.

  I suggest we go back inside and ask the person at the information desk for help, but Grandpa refuses. He thinks it’s less embarrassing walking around the carpark searching for the car than telling someone inside that we can’t remember where we parked it. Someone who probably hears it fifty times a day. I offer to do the asking but he won’t let me.

  ‘All we have to do is start at one spot and work our way around until we find the car,’ Grandpa says.

  I hope he isn’t planning to work his way around the whole carpark. It could take hours or even days. I guess by dinnertime Grandma will get worried and organise a search party.

  Thinking about dinnertime reminds me I haven’t eaten for a while. I look through my pockets. Nothing.

  What we need is a drone so we can see an aerial view of the carpark. Why don’t they have those at shopping centres? Maybe they do, but we wouldn’t know because Grandpa would rather walk around the carpark for a week than ask for help. I should offer a service like that. Then I’ll make a million dollars and never have to share a bathroom with Noah again.

  By now we’ve trekked all the way out to the last rows of cars. It would probably be quicker to walk home and come back in Grandma’s Corolla and search for the car, but Grandpa is already looking defeated. He’s gone quiet and droopy-looking and the bottom of the flowery bag is all grey and dusty from where it keeps bumping on the ground.

  My eyes eventually rest on something else on the ground. It’s a packet of Froot Choos. Unopened. It’s only a ‘fun size’ packet, which is less fun than a regular size packet, but the sight of it fills me with optimism. While I’m not going to eat them or anything – they’re on the ground – I can put them in my pocket and remember the good old days, when Froot Choos and Choco-Flakes were a normal part of life and a plate of scones didn’t make me feel like crying.

  The little packet gives me hope. We’ll find the car and get back home before Grandma calls centre management. Or the police.

  I bend down to pick it up. I have to reach my hand underneath a four-wheel drive next to a—

  ‘Grandpa! I found it!’ I shout and start jumping up and down. ‘The car! The car! It’s over here!’ Even I can’t believe the Froot Choos have worked their magic so soon and so well.

  Grandpa goes from flat and low to happy and excited in a few seconds. ‘I told you we’d find it! We just needed a system …’

  As we walk towards it though, I notice there’s something different about it. It’s clean. And shiny. The ancient dust and leaves are gone. Also, I realise that the yellow poles are only in one little area – around Grandpa’s car and a few others. And there’s a sign.

  I don’t know when is a good time to tell Grandpa that we’re parked in a carwash and he owes them $15.50. More, if they’ve vacuumed it as well.

  Grandpa gets into the car and it starts on the first go. It must like being clean. I jump in the passenger side and see the carwash guys behind us coughing and gasping for air in the cloud of blue grey smoke billowing out of the exhaust. As we turn out of the carpark onto the road, I know I’ve left it too late to tell Grandpa about the carwash. I feel really bad because it’s the same as stealing, but if I say anything, Grandpa will get upset. So we drive out of the shopping centre carpark as fugitives on the run.

  Now I hope the shopping centre doesn’t have an aerial view of the carpark.

  That night I can’t sleep because I’m so worried about the $15.50. I creep into the kitchen for a drink and find Grandma sitting at the table doing a crossword.

  ‘Jesse! What’s the matter? Are you feeling okay? Is your bed warm enough?’

  I wish she wouldn’t ask me those things. I’m scared she’ll be angry with me when I tell her why I can’t sleep, so I wait until she walks over to the fridge. But she’s not angry at all.

  ‘I’m so proud of you,’ she says, coming over to give me a big hug and a kiss on the top of my head. ‘And I can assure you, there’s plenty of people who’ve taken fifteen million dollars from others today and are sleeping like babies.’

  ‘Really? Who?’ I ask, interested.

  Grandma puts a cup of chocolate milk in front of me. ‘Let’s just say, I don’t think you’re cut out for a career in politics.’ She smiles.

  I feel my eyes grow heavy.

  ‘Can I save this for breakfast?’ I ask, looking at the chocolate milk.

  ‘Off to bed now, Jesse. I’ll sort out the carwash money in the morning,’ Grandma says, sitting down at the table.

  ‘Our little secret,’ she adds, going back to her crossword.

  Mrs Overbeek must be in a hurry today because she starts morning assembly without even waiting for everyone to be quiet. ‘Term 4 is so busy!’ she begins. ‘I don’t know how we’re going to fit everything in!’

  Some of the Preps are still standing up. They file into the gym okay, but don’t know what to do when they get here. Miss Agostino has to shuffle down the row about three times before they’re all sitting down.

  ‘I’d like you all to welcome Ms Janik,’ Mrs Overbeek says. ‘She is our new student teacher and will be working in Mrs Leeman’s class this term.’

  Everyone turns to stare at the lady sitting on a chair in front of the fire exit. Maybe no one has asked her to move because it’s her first day. I think Ian should offer Ms Janik the chair next to his. He can’t have already forgotten what it’s like to be a student teacher and not know where to sit or what to do.

  ‘Also, a very big thank you to Mr S,’ Mrs Overbeek says, ‘who will be staying on a bit longer at Westmoore. We’re so fortunate that he is able to do that for us.’ Mr S stands up from where he’s sitting with the other teachers and gives a little wave. Mrs Overbeek should ask him to return the retirement gift we gave him last year until he actually leaves.

  Mr Wilson steps forwards and takes the microphone from Mrs Overbeek, who disappears behind the curtain.

  ‘Uhh, hello everyone. Thank you, Mrs Overbeek.’ Everyone laughs because Mrs Overbeek has already left the gym. We can see her out the side door marching across the courtyard towards the office.

  Mr Wilson takes some scrunched-up pieces of paper out of his suit pocket then goes on for about fifty hours about all the things we have to do this term.

  ‘And uhhh, just to finish up …’ Mr Wilson says, ‘I’d like to mention our wonderful Grade 6s. They will be having their graduation assembly at the end of the year. Very exciting. Now, I’ll hand over to Mr Winsock … I believe he wants to have a word about, uhhh … cross-country training.’

  So, we’re not finishing up at all. We still have to listen to Mr Winsock trying to get us interested in another kind of sport.

  Everyone fidgets on the floor as Mr Winsock messes around with the microphone stand. While he’s doing it, Peta stands up and walks towards the front.

  Peta!

  What is she doing?

  Peta takes the microphone out of the stand. As she starts to speak, I discover she’s been running around for fun before school as well as at the weekends!

  ‘We meet at eight o’clock in the morning and do four laps around the oval,’ she says to everyone. ‘So if you want to join us this Friday for practice, it’s really good fun. After we run, we have enough time to get changed and have some breakfast before school starts.’ She jumps off the stage instead of going down the steps and joins the rest of Ms Kendall’s Grade 6 class.

  Peta’s going to be disappointed. Why would anyone want to get up early and run around the oval if—

  Wait.

  Breakfast?

  When we arrive back at the classroom after assembly, Ms Janik is already sitting in front of the supply cupboard in our classroom. She’s smiling, so she must have only met Mrs Leeman today. I wonder if teachers have to write reports about student teachers? If they do, I hope Ms Janik doesn’t really want to be a teacher or has a plan B of some kind.

  At recess, I look for Peta to ask her about cross-country.

  She seems really happy I’m asking her about training. ‘You should do it, Jesse. It’s really good—’

  ‘Do you get toast or cereal?’ I ask.

  ‘What? Oh. Toast. So I’m trying to get Ahmed to join us. He’s a really good runner but he—’

  ‘Is it white bread though? Or multigrain? And what do you get to put on it?’

  ‘Umm. Both. And jam or Vegemite, I think. Anyway, it takes ages to run around the oval four times. At first. But after a while, you get better. I can do it quickly now.’

  ‘Does the jam have bits in it?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s not running fast – just like jogging speed. Then at breakfast we can have orange juice or a hot chocolate.’

  Hot chocolate? We didn’t even get hot chocolate at home before the birdseed diet.

  I’m going to start on Friday.

  After recess, Mrs Leeman sends Jun and me to the office to hand in a big envelope. It’s sealed so we can’t see what’s inside, even when we hold it up to the window. It’s pretty thick so it’s probably all the detention slips Mrs Leeman has issued, even though the term only just started. Miss Creighton is already arguing with someone else in the office, so we have to wait our turn.

  ‘I don’t understand it,’ a lady is saying. ‘I filled in the forms and gave them to her class teacher. I don’t know what happened to them.’

  ‘Well, you’ll just have to do it all again,’ Miss Creighton says. ‘Roland, organise some replacement forms!’ she yells. And then, to the lady, ‘I can’t do anything here until we have those forms.’

  There’s a girl standing next to the lady. She’s about our age, wearing an ordinary T-shirt and jeans.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ the lady says to Roland as he comes out from the back of the office. ‘We’ve only just moved. Everything’s still in boxes. It’s so much better with Rey at the new Children’s Centre at the hospital, but it’s absolute chaos at home. I couldn’t find the toaster this morning!’

  ‘I didn’t realise the Children’s Centre was open yet,’ Roland says, surprised.

  ‘Well, not officially,’ the lady explains, ‘but they’re already taking patients. And next week my mother and sister are coming over from the Philippines to give us a little more support. It’s going to be so—’

  ‘Roland!’ Miss Creighton yells out from her desk. ‘You’re not here to stand around talking. Have you found those forms yet?’

  Roland opens a cupboard and hands the lady a form from a stack of about five thousand and gives her his own personal pen to use. ‘Please don’t worry about Rey’s enrolment forms,’ he says. ‘We’ll sort it out.’

  Jun and I glance at each other. It hasn’t taken Roland long to perfect his calming voice, but I guess it’s kind of essential if your job is being nice for horrible people (Miss Creighton) and trying to be nice to horrible people (Miss Creighton).

  Roland glances over and sees me and Jun holding the big envelope. ‘Hold on! Hold on! Here they are!’ he shouts, holding his palms in the air. ‘Thank you, boys.’ He takes the big envelope from us.

  Miss Creighton looks up from her computer and directs some non-verbal communication at Roland.

  He should really know by now that the only raised voice permitted in the office area is her own.

  * * *

  For the next few days, Ms Janik stays in front of the supply cupboard and watches Mrs Leeman teach the class. By now, Ms Janik must be wondering why she chose teaching as a career. Maybe we should tell her about the door at the back of the supply cupboard that opens out into the courtyard.

  On Thursday morning, she has the class by herself for the first time. She looks a bit nervous. We’re all a bit nervous because Mrs Leeman sits up the back the whole time.

  Ms Janik says, ‘Now! Listen up, everyone! I’ve got a very exciting project we’re going to work on for the rest of the term! Great Australians …’ she leaves such a long pause I think she means we are Great Australians, but she means we have to do a project on a Great Australian.

  ‘I’m putting you into groups of four … and one group of five … and each group will research a Great Australian. Tomorrow, Friday, we will start making a visual presentation to support your class presentation at the end of term. So if the group leaders would like to come up and choose an envelope with a name inside …’

  Nobody moves because we don’t know what group we’re in or who the group leaders are. Mrs Leeman must give Ms Janik one of her instructional gestures because Ms Janik continues. ‘Oh! Sorry! So … if you’d like to get into groups of four and one group of five and elect a leader to collect an envelope …’

  Half the class slowly stands up. We can’t believe our luck. Mrs Leeman would never in a million years let us do a group project with our friends, but Ms Janik seems to have forgotten the only thing she had to do other than tell us she’s going to put us in groups was to put us in groups. Everyone kind of shuffles towards their friends and stands in little clusters. Group leaders are not so much elected as handed the position in the form of an envelope.

  I’m handed the envelope for our group. It says ‘Professor Fred Hollows’. Even Alex has never heard of him. I hope he was an explorer. More specifically, I hope he discovered New Zealand because we’ve had a map of New Zealand on the wall in the kitchen for as long as I can remember. It’s got all the details about climate, population, politics, and stuff around the outside.

  A few minutes before the bell goes for recess, Mrs Overbeek comes in with Rey – the girl Jun and I saw in the office the other day. She’s wearing a school uniform now.

  Mrs Leeman introduces her to the class and gives her the spare seat up the front. That seat isn’t really a spare. If Mrs Leeman thinks someone is misbehaving in class, they have to sit in that seat for the rest of the lesson, so it’s almost always occupied. Mrs Leeman chooses Minha to help Rey settle in but not right now because Minha’s Great Australians group already has five members. So Rey is put in our group.

  I notice Mrs Leeman’s decisions overrule any of Ms Janik’s arrangements.

  Thomas Moore and Huong are already sitting on the retaining wall by the time we get there at recess.

  ‘Miss Agostino might be wondering where you are,’ I say hopefully.

  ‘She knows I’m here,’ Thomas Moore says. ‘She said as long as I stay with you, it’s okay.’

  Miss Agostino didn’t ask if it’s okay with me. She should check before handing over her responsibilities. The only reason I don’t tell Thomas Moore to leave is I don’t know how to do it in a way that’s not mean, and that will make him go away and not come back.

 

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