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THE ALLEYNIAN 709
CREATIVE WRITING
ARTWORK — FLYNN LABAN (YEAR 12)
Seamus Kader (Year 7) Vanishing Spray
I sat down as she read out the daily notices. “And Seamus, Mr Middleton would like to see you. You’re not in trouble, in fact quite the opposite.” I had forgotten about the commendations. They had not come to mind when I had sprayed the Head of Year. What a shame. I was frustrated; I would have liked some congratulations after the hard work of the past few weeks. The morning dragged on, and I could not find another opportunity to spray anybody until English. It was the first time we had played “heads down thumbs up” in a classroom. I was picked, and once everybody’s head was down, I knew my chance had come. There was a buzzing sound from my can, and when everybody looked, Ms Akrill was no longer with us. The rest of the English lesson was rather enjoyable. I wouldn’t even call it an English lesson. Maybe playtime would be a better way to refer to what happened for the next half hour. As soon as it was discovered by my class that Ms Akrill had gone for good, we charged into the playground, amusing ourselves until 12:40 when we went to lunch and took all the pudding we wanted. After lunch, my class and I had a challenge on our hands. We wanted a whole day of fun. We wanted to get all the teachers into one room. I thought for a while about how we could manage this. And then, I had it! If there was one thing a teacher would sacrifice anything for, it was a child’s safety. Soon enough we had all the Lower School teachers herded into a small Year Seven classroom. Once they were inside the room, I immediately sprayed the doorknob; they were locked in. Now that they realized what I had done they came to the door, peeking through the small glass pane, their faces red: enraged, yet timorous. I turned my back in a deliberately slow manner, trying to ignore the shouts and sounds of people banging on the door, and charging at it. I left them and went to the computer room. Some time later, I heard the distant ringing of a bell and I felt hands nudging at me. My eyes slowly opened. I saw children having fun, I saw teachers laughing, I saw Mr Middleton and Ms Akrill. I saw the real world, a wonderful world – and I was glad to be back in it.
I needed to find my mask. I zipped open my heavy rucksack, pouring out the bulky folders and stray pieces of paper, all of them creased and ripped, realising what a mess my life was, what a stress. I reached under my coat, unable to find the mask, and a wave of irritation and worry spread through me. As I blindly searched the bottom of my bag with my hand, I felt something: a cold sensation of metal on my skin. Surprised, I pulled out of my bag a spray can. I turned it over in my hands, observed it, and then hid it under my blazer. I headed to the playground, and instead of walking towards the 7R patball court, I turned to the wall and sprayed a little of the substance onto it. The smell was strong and acrid, and the acidic stench made me stumble back. A large hole appeared in the wall where I had sprayed. I was somewhat taken aback, and so was Mr Mills. He came jogging over, and stared at the wall, clearly amazed. As I turned to him, I saw that he was red-faced and was holding a finger up. I squinted, then sprayed Mr Mills’s face, trying not to use up too much of the can’s contents. I somehow thought that this spray may come in useful for the rest of the day. The bell rang and I rushed inside, past the rabble of shouting children, and past the hand sanitizer (big mistake). As Mr Middleton called me back, I slipped the can out of sight and walked towards him, hands behind my back. Mr Middleton began to tell me about protecting others or something along those lines. I knew I could not spray him in front of everybody, so I asked him if might speak to him in private; we went into the Raymond Chandler Library and as soon as Mr Middleton started talking, I sprayed. There was now a disturbingly large opening where Mr Middleton’s belly should have been. It was a comical sight, and I muffled a laugh. Mr Middleton gingerly looked down and when his head came rising up you could see the look of fright on his now pallid face. His scream was silenced by the buzz of the spray can. With his face gone, I finished off the job by spraying the rest of his body. I turned my back on him and a sly smile spread across my face. I was in for a good day. I strolled into class, rather proud. “Where have you been, Seamus?” inquired Mrs Baxter. “Just returning some books to the library,” I replied. “Ahh” she said, “Well, asseyez-vous.”
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