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Jordan's face was blank, but I could hear the tap-tap-tap of twitchy fingers drumming against her leg. She was focused, calculating, getting ready to deal with whatever Pryor was about to throw at us.

Luke was a deer in the headlights.

‘As you all know,' said Pryor, finally getting on with it, ‘Phoenix High School is an institution which prides itself on a well-established culture of openness, honesty, and mutual respect among staff and students.'

Yeah,
I thought,
and we also fly to school using our magic jetpacks.

‘These are values that we cherish,' Pryor continued. ‘And today we take those values one step further. I am excited to announce a brand-new program that will revolutionise communication between myself and the students of Phoenix High.'

She waved a hand at Jordan, Luke and me. ‘It is with great pleasure that I present your new staff-student liaison officers!'

Jordan's fingers stopped drumming.

Applause filled the hall again. Pryor beamed, clapping like we'd just discovered a cure for cancer.

Staff-student
what?
What was that supposed to mean?

‘From now on,' said Pryor, killing the applause, ‘if you have any suggestions for improving the way we do things here at Phoenix High, any issues that you would like to raise, any – dare I say it –
complaints
that you would like make,' she waved her hand at us again, ‘you may address them to one of these three students.'

‘Wh –?' I began, but Jordan kicked me in the ankle before I could get the words out.

‘Don't be an idiot,' she whispered.

‘Starting this week, Jordan, Luke and Peter will be attending regular meetings in my office to discuss the matters you bring to their attention,' Pryor continued. ‘They will also be engaged in a host of other activities designed to improve the experience of all students here at Phoenix High.'

Pryor turned back to us.

‘Congratulations!' she said, kicking off yet another round of applause. She stepped away from the lectern, reaching out to shake our hands. ‘I'm sure we're going to
love
working together.'

‘She's insane,' I said, as we headed back across the grass to the science block. ‘If she thinks I'm actually going to go along with this –'

‘Of course you are,' said Jordan impatiently.

‘We're all going along with it. What choice do we have?'

I didn't answer. She was right, but it still felt good to complain about it.

‘We should've known something like this was coming,' said Luke. ‘Calvin told us he and Pryor were going to find us something “constructive” to do with our time.'

‘They're trying to distract us,' Jordan agreed. ‘Keep us busy.'

‘Yeah, makes sense,' I admitted. ‘Can't go off saving the world if we're stuck in Pryor's office. Plus, it gives her the perfect excuse to keep an eye on … what's the matter?'

Jordan was squeezing her eyes shut, hands at her temples. ‘Nothing,' she said. ‘Just a headache.'

‘Anything I can do?' I asked. ‘You want some water?'

She gave me a weird look and kept walking.

By the time we got to our science room, everyone was pulling out their laptops to write up the prac we'd done last lesson. Jordan mumbled a quick apology to Ms Benson, and we went up the back to our usual bench.

Cat, Tank and Mike were at the bench in front, laptops open.

‘Mike,' I heard Tank whisper as I walked past, ‘how do you spell “polypeptide”?'

‘Use the spell check, idiot,' said Mike, shaking his head.

Tank laughed. ‘Oh, yeah.'

I couldn't help smirking at them as I reached for my laptop. Tank was stupidity in its purest form. He was kind of like a caveman that Mike and I were training up to fit into modern society.

Or had been, until they'd all decided to drop me from the group.

‘Hey, man,' said Mike, spinning around on his stool, a massive grin on his face. He stuck both his thumbs up at me and said, ‘Congratulations on the big promotion!'

‘Get stuffed,' I said, already wishing we'd sat somewhere else. ‘You think I asked for this?'

‘Didn't hear you saying no,' he said. Tank started laughing next to him.

‘Right,' I said, ‘because I definitely want to be spending
more
time in Pryor's office.'

I waited for Cat to chime in, but she was staring determinedly at her screen.

Oh, right,
I thought, wrenching my laptop open violently.
Just ignore me and maybe I' ll go away.

Like it was my fault things had gotten weird between us.

‘Listen,' said Mike, still grinning like an idiot, ‘I've got some suggestions for you to give Pryor the next time you see her. How about –?'

‘How about you shut up?' I said, almost knocking my stool over as I dived across the table towards him, my rage suddenly boiling over.

Mike held his hands up in front of him. ‘Whoa, settle down, Pete. I was only –'

‘Is there a problem, gentlemen?' said Benson, looking up from across the room.

‘No, miss!' I said, dropping back down onto my seat.

Mike turned back to his work, mumbling something about
anger issues.
I spent the rest of the morning resisting the temptation to punch him in the back of the head.

As soon as we got out to recess, Jordan, Luke and I were mobbed by a bunch of Year 7s.

‘Hey, you guys are the … the staff-student things, right?' said a freckle-faced girl I sort of recognised.

‘Uh-huh,' said Luke.

‘We have some ideas for you,' said one of the hobbits from this morning, flipping to a list in the back of his homework diary.

‘Yeah,' said Freckles. ‘We think it's slack how the Year 8s always come in and steal all the handball courts.'

‘Their teachers always let them out early!' said another girl. Jenny or something. ‘It's so unfair! There should be reserved handball courts just for Year 7s.'

I closed my eyes. ‘Are you serious?'

‘Of course we are,' said Freckles.

‘Okay, whatever,' I said, walking away.

‘Hang on, there's more!' said the hobbit, waving the diary at us. ‘We reckon –'

‘Why don't we take one thing at a time?' said Jordan, with much more patience than they deserved.

‘Oh,' said Freckles, looking disappointed. ‘Um, okay.'

‘Thanks,' said the hobbit. They backed away, whispering to each other.

But it didn't last long. For the rest of the day, it seemed like everywhere I turned there was either an idiot Year 7 asking if we could put Coke in the bubblers or a drop-kick Year 12 coming out with a comedic gem like, ‘I have a suggestion: Pryor sucks!'

By the end of the day, I was nearly ready to strangle someone. Jordan and Luke had started out calm about the whole thing, but I reckon they were both pretty close to losing it too.

‘It'll get better,' said Jordan, as we walked out past the front office. ‘It's only the first day. People will get over it and leave us alone again.'

‘They'd better,' I said. ‘Because, I swear, the next person –'

‘Excuse me,' called a voice from behind us.

‘W
hat?
' I growled, spun around, then jumped back. ‘Oh. Uh, I mean, what can I do for you, miss?'

It was Mrs Stapleton, the deputy principal.

‘I'm glad I caught you three before you slipped out,' she said, ignoring the fact that I'd just shouted in her face. She's good like that. ‘I have a message for you.'

‘Oh,' I said. ‘Right. What is it, miss?'

‘Your first meeting with Ms Pryor has been scheduled for tomorrow morning.' Staples paused, fixing me with an expression I couldn't figure out. ‘She said to assure you she will do
whatever
is necessary to ensure a secure future for this town and its students. She trusts you will agree to co-operate.'

Chapter 4

T
UESDAY
, M
AY
19
86
DAYS

I opened the cereal box one-handed and started shaking cornflakes into a bowl without looking, eyes focused on the book in my other hand.

‘
Utopia?
' said Mum, glancing at the cover as she walked past. ‘Don't you have a class novel you're supposed to be reading?'

‘Yeah, kind of,' I said.

‘And you're reading that instead because …?'

‘Because studying a book in class is a sure-fire way to take all the fun out of reading it,' I said, flipping the page with my thumb.

‘Funny,' Mum pulled some toast out of the toaster. ‘My kids don't seem to mind.'

‘That's because your class novel is
The Very Hungry Caterpillar,
' I said. ‘Trust me, if there was a felt-board version of
our
book, I'd be all over it.'

I looked down and realised my cereal bowl was overflowing. I scraped the spilled cornflakes up from the bench with my hand and dumped them back in the box.

‘Morning,' said Dad, doing up his tie as he walked into the kitchen. Mum kissed him for much longer than was strictly necessary and stuck a piece of toast in his mouth. I made a gagging noise and reached for the milk. My parents have been together twenty years and they're still completely gross with each other.

‘So,' said Dad through a bite of toast, ‘what are we arguing about this morning?'

‘The usual,' I said, going back to my book. ‘
Peter has a great deal of potential, but he needs to start applying himself in class.
'

Dad started to laugh, but choked it down into a cough as Mum turned around again. Truth is, he was just as bad as me in high school.

‘Don't encourage him,' said Mum, her highly trained kindergarten-teacher eyes not missing a thing. ‘You going to be home for dinner tonight?'

‘I'll try to be,' said Dad, straightening his tie. He glanced at me, then back at Mum. ‘There was an incident in the park on Sunday that I need to write up for the
Herald
–'

I coughed up a mouthful of cereal.

‘– and Mr Shackleton has just brought forward the deadline on this project they've got me working on, so I might have to stay back a bit.'

‘What's the project?' I asked, recovering the use of my lungs.

‘Just some paperwork,' he said automatically. ‘It's nothing, really. Guess I'd better get to it, though. See you guys tonight.' He bit down on his toast again and left the kitchen, clapping me around the shoulder on his way past.

‘I should get moving, too,' said Mum, picking up her basket full of teacher stuff. ‘Have fun at school. Hope your meeting with Ms Pryor goes well.'

‘Yeah, awesome,' I said.

Mum sighed and put her arm around me. ‘At least promise that you won't get
me
called in for a meeting with her.'

‘I'll see what I can do,' I said.

I hadn't told Mum or Dad about the liaison thing, but Phoenix High and Phoenix Primary are technically two halves of the same school, so Mum had read about it in a staff bulletin or something and come home all excited.

‘All right,' she said, ‘see you tonight.'

She headed for the door, leaving me alone in the house.

I sat there in the quiet, finishing my cereal. I tried to get through the last few pages of my book, but my mind kept spinning off in other directions.

Paperwork, my arse.

Whatever this project of Dad's was, he didn't want to talk about it. Or he wasn't allowed to talk about it.

This wasn't the first time Dad had been tightlipped about work. A big part of his job was writing up Shackleton Co-operative press releases for the
Phoenix Herald
. He was bound to brush up against sensitive information from time to time.

All of which had seemed perfectly reasonable until three days ago, when I realised just how sensitive that
sensitive information
might be.

Like this latest write-up for the paper. It
had
to be about the phone.

Whether Dad knew it or not, he was helping Shackleton cover it up.

I thought of Jordan, shooting down my suggestion to ask Dad about that list. She didn't trust him. Neither did Luke.

Maybe they're right not to –

No. There was no way. I might not know everything about what he did at work all day, but I still knew
him
. He was stuck here, just like the rest of us.

So why did I need to defend him to Jordan and Luke?

Because they don't know him,
I told myself.
They' d just start jumping to conclusions.

I dropped my spoon into the empty bowl and got up from the table.

‘Bloody quiet house,' I muttered.

I'm not a fan of silence. Way too easy to start over-thinking things.

I grabbed my backpack and went outside, flipping to the last page of
Utopia
as I walked out the door.

‘Wha –?'

Someone had taken a black marker and scribbled out the last paragraph of the book.