THE NEW GIRL
“Put your books away and take out your pencils ready for a maths test,” Miss Strickland said, grabbing a pile of papers from her desk.
The class groaned.
“But you didn’t tell us we were going to have a test!” Tiffany called out.
“Tiffany, how many times do I have to tell you not to call out?” Miss Strickland snapped. “And no, I didn’t tell you. It’s not a test you can study for anyway.”
Tiffany frowned.
“Isaac, I told you to put your book away,” Miss Strickland said as she began handing out the test papers.
Isaac looked up and brushed the blonde hair from his eyes. “Can I just finish this page, Miss? It’s really good.”
“Later, Isaac,” Miss Strickland said, throwing a test paper in front of him. “And sit up straight. Your head is barely above the desk.”
“I can’t help if I’m small,” Isaac said, sitting up.
“You’re not that small,” Miss Strickland said. “You can sit up straighter too, Tom,” she added, throwing a paper on his desk. “It’s bad for your back.”
The boys looked at each other as she passed.
“What’s wrong with her today?” Isaac whispered.
Tom shrugged.
Just then there was a knock at the door and everyone looked up to see Mr Barker standing there with a small, thin girl with short straight black hair cut into a bob beside him.
“Excuse me, Miss Strickland,” he said.
“Yes, Mr Barker?”
“I have a new girl here for you.” He ushered the girl inside in front of him.
Miss Strickland tried really hard not to look annoyed. “A new girl?”
“Yes, her name is Zara. She was going to arrive last term, but her parents changed their mind at the last minute and only decided this morning to bring her in. I’m sorry I didn’t let you know earlier.”
“That’s okay”, Miss Strickland lied.
She walked to the front of the room. “Welcome Zara. My name is Miss Strickland. Welcome to our class.”
Zara stared at her with a blank expression on her face.
“I’ll leave you with her then?” Mr Barker said, shuffling backwards.
“Thank you, Mr Barker,” Miss Strickland said.
He left, closing the door behind him.
Miss Strickland held Zara’s shoulder and turned to face the class. “Everybody, we have a new person in our class. Her name is Zara. Say good morning, class.”
“Good morning Zara,” the class chorused.
Joshua smirked.
“Be careful, Joshua,” Miss Strickland said. “Zara, you can sit in the spare desk next to Tiffany for now. She’ll show you around at morning tea.”
Tiffany grinned.
Miss Strickland led her over to her desk and gave her a maths test and pencil. “Just do your best, Zara,” she said. “Now, everyone, I don’t want to hear any talking during the test. When you have finished you can get a book from Reading Corner and read quietly until we all finish. If you get stuck, just put up your hand and I’ll help you as best as I can without giving you the answer. Now, you may begin.”
The class began to work on their tests. Miss Strickland walked around to make sure everybody was doing the right thing.
“Write neatly, Joshua,” she said.
“This is neat,” Joshua said.
“I don’t think so,” Miss Strickland said. “It looks like Chinese. If I don’t see proper numbers on your page I won’t mark it.”
Joshua sighed dramatically.
Miss Strickland shook her head and turned around the see Zara standing up. “What are you doing, Zara?”
“I’m getting a book, Miss Strickland,” Zara said.
“Finish your test first,” Miss Strickland said.
“I have finished,” Zara said.
There were a few gasps of surprise and everyone turned to stare at her.
“You can’t be,” Miss Strickland said, picking up the paper. “We’ve only just started.”
She flicked through the three pages, her frown deepening as she went.
“She writes really quickly,” Tiffany said. “I saw her.”
“Well,” Miss Strickland said, trying to hide her amazement. “That’s very good, Zara. You can get a book from Reading Corner and read quietly until everybody else finishes.”
“Okay,” Zara said.
The class watched, awed, as she made her way across the room to Book Corner and begin to flick through the books on the shelf.
“Back to work, everyone,” Miss Strickland said. She looked at the test paper again. Every question was done, and every question looked correct. How could she have written so quickly? Even exceptionally bright children would have taken more time.
She walked to her desk and slipped the paper inside her mark book.
Suddenly a high-pitched beeping filled the air. Everybody’s heads lifted from their work again.
“What’s that noise?” Joshua called out.
“I don’t know,” Miss Strickland said, looking around the room. Her eyes focused on Tiffany who was rummaging around in her desk.
“What’s wrong, Tiffany?” she asked.
Tiffany closed her desk and pressed a button on a small mobile phone.
The beeping stopped.
“Tiffany, dear, how is school going?” a crackly voice asked loudly.
“Not now, Mum,” Tiffany hissed, annoyed. “Everybody’s listening.”
Everybody was listening. It wasn’t every day a mobile phone went off in class.
“Oh, I’m sorry dear. I’ll call you again later. Bye.”
“Bye, Mum.”
Tiffany shoved the phone into her lap. She grinned at the class.
“You’re not allowed to have mobile phones at school,” Joshua said loudly.
“Be quiet, Joshua,” Miss Strickland said.
Joshua frowned.
“I can understand that your mother wants to keep in touch with you, Tiffany,” Miss Strickland said, “but I don’t think you should be bringing a mobile phone to school. You don’t need it. If your mother wants to contact you, she can ring the office and leave a message. Okay?”
“But Mum bought this especially for me for school,” Tiffany complained. “It’s got my name on it and everything. Every modern woman has one these days.”
There were a few giggles.
Miss Strickland tried hard not to laugh. “You don’t need a mobile phone at school,” she repeated. “I think I should look after it until this afternoon.” She held out her hand.
Tiffany pouted. “My Mum won’t like it.”
“You’ll get it back before you go home,” Miss Strickland said. “It will be safer in my desk.”
Reluctantly Tiffany handed the phone over. Mr Strickland studied it briefly. It was the smallest phone she’d ever seen. It was hardly bigger than a matchbox.
“What if I bring a note?” Tiffany asked.
“By all means bring a note,” Miss Strickland said, walking to the front of the room. “I’ll be happy to write one back.” She slipped it into the top drawer of her desk. “The entertainment is over, everybody,” she said, sliding it shut with a metallic thud. “Back to your tests.”
Everyone began work on the test again, except Zara, who was reading at her desk. Or was she? Miss Strickland studied her from the front of the room. Although Zara was looking intently at the book, she turned the page every couple of seconds. After a few minutes she stood up again and went back to Book Corner. At this rate, Miss Strickland thought, she’ll have read through the class library in a couple of days. What was she going to do? There was no way Zara was going to find normal grade five work interesting. She’d be bored silly.
After half an hour everybody had finished their test and was reading quietly, or in Joshua’s case, pretending to. Miss Strickland looked at the clock. It was still more than half an hour until morning tea.
“Thank you for working so hard on those t
ests”, she said. “You can put your books away quietly now. We’ll go down to the oval for a game or two until morning tea time.”
There was a mumble of agreement.
Miss Strickland held up her hands. “On one condition, though. You need to show me you can line up quietly outside without disturbing the classes next door. Off you go. Impress me.”
The class stood up quietly, walked outside and lined up without speaking a word. Genuinely pleased, Miss Strickland congratulated them and led them down the two flights of internal stairs, across the playground and onto the oval. By the time they got there, most of the children were talking excitedly.
“Don’t spoil it now,” Miss Strickland said. “Now, listening here.”
The noise level dropped.
“What game are we playing?” Tiffany called out.
“If you’ll just wait two seconds I’ll tell you,” Miss Strickland said.
Kimberly put up her hand.
“Yes, Kimberly?” Miss Strickland asked.
“I feel sick.”
Although her face didn’t look any greyer than normal, Miss Strickland decided to err on the side of caution. “Alright, Kimberly, you can sit down under that wattle tree over there until you feel better.”
Kimberly nodded.
“Can I look after her?” Tiffany asked.
“No,” Miss Strickland said. “She’ll be fine.”
Tiffany turned to Zara, who was standing next to her. “Talk about mean,” she hissed.
Zara didn’t say anything. She stared directly ahead as though deep in thought.
“Put your hand up if you don’t know how to play Stuck in the Mud,” Miss Strickland said.
Zara and a few others raised their hands.
“It’s a very easy game,” Miss Strickland explained. “Joshua and Isaac will be up. When they tag you, you need to stand still with your legs apart. When somebody crawls through your legs, you are free again. If Joshua and Isaac manage to tag everyone, then the game is over. Now, you need to stay inside this half of the soccer field. If you go outside the boundaries you will be frozen. Joshua and Isaac will start tagging when I blow the whistle.”
She blew her whistle and children screamed and ran in every direction.
Miss Strickland smiled to herself. Stuck in the Mud was a really good game. It ran itself and could last as long as she wanted it to. Too easy! She began thinking about what she was going to do with Zara after morning tea.
Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted when something moved under her left foot. She stepped aside to see a small, black cylinder shape rising out of the grass, squirting water. In fact, small, black cylinder shapes were popping up all over the oval, and they were all squirting water!
The class began to scream as the sprinkler system really got going, shooting jets of water in all directions.
“Everyone, off the oval!” Miss Strickland shouted, unsuccessfully trying to jump out of the way of the jets.
By the time everybody reached the side of the oval, they were all saturated and very excited.
“Lips closed!” Miss Strickland yelled. She wiped a strand of wet hair from her face.
The voices died.
“That’s better,” she said. She gazed over her class. Well, at least it wasn’t bubble gum this time. “Make sure you stay out in the sun during morning tea,” she said. “You should be dry again by the time we come in.”
“Miss Strickland!” Tiffany yelled, alarmed. “Something’s wrong with Zara!”
Zara stood at the back of the group, staring straight ahead, stiff and trembling as though she was freezing cold.
Miss Strickland hurried over, her feet squishing in her white slip-on shoes.
“What’s wrong, Zara?” she asked, holding her shoulder.
“Water,” Zara whispered in a strange, high-pitched voice.
Miss Strickland frowned. “Yes, I know it’s not nice being wet,” she said. “But don’t worry, you’ll dry soon.”
“Water,” Zara repeated. “I’m not allowed to get wet.”
Miss Strickland sighed. So that’s what the problem was - fussy parents. She’d been hoping she wouldn’t get any of those this year.
“Tiffany,” she said. “Take Zara to the toilets and get her as dry as you can will you? Be careful you don’t get any wrinkles in her dress. With any luck her parents won’t find out. Don’t worry, Zara, you’ll be okay.”
“Water,” Zara repeated softly, still staring ahead.
“Come on, Zara,” Tiffany said. “I’ll fix you up.”
She led her away towards the girls’ toilet block.
“What have you been up to this morning with your class, Jenny?” Mr Barker asked as Miss Strickland flopped into a chair beside him. “Swimming lessons don’t start until next week.” He chuckled.
Miss Strickland took a sip of coffee and sighed. “Who is the bright person who set the sprinklers to go on during school hours?”
Mr Barker chuckled again. “They must have been reset when we had that power failure last night. I’ll sort it out after morning tea. Are you cold?”
“No, just uncomfortable. The day was going really well until we went out for a game. And these are brand new jeans too.”
“Never mind,” Mr Barker said. “It happens to the best of us.”
Suddenly Tiffany appeared at the door of the staff room. “Miss Strickland, come quick,” she gasped, out of breath.
“What’s wrong?” Miss Strickland asked.
“Zara’s smoking in the toilets!”
“What?” Mr Barker and Miss Strickland exclaimed together.
“Zara’s smoking in the toilets,” Tiffany repeated. “Come quick.”
“I’ll sort it out,” Mr Barker said, moving to stand up.
“No, no, I will,” Miss Strickland said. “I need to make an impression if I’m going to survive the rest of the year with her.”
“Okay then,” Mr Barker said. “Send somebody if you need me.”
Miss Strickland, coffee cup in hand, followed Tiffany to the girls’ toilets.
When they arrived there was a crowd of excited girls milling around the door of one of the cubicles.
“She’s in there,” Tiffany said, pointing.
“I gathered that,” Miss Strickland said. “Okay girls, the entertainment’s over. Good-bye.”
Grumbling, the girls sauntered away.
“Can I stay?” Tiffany asked. “She’s my friend.”
Miss Strickland thought for a moment. “Okay then.”
She sniffed. There was definitely a smoky smell in the air, but it didn’t smell like cigarette smoke.
“Zara?” she said through the door. “Are you in there?”
“Pancakes!” came a loud, high-pitched reply.
Miss Strickland frowned. “Pancakes?”
Tiffany shrugged.
“Now, don’t be silly, Zara,” Miss Strickland said firmly. “Come out at once and tell me what you’ve been doing in there.”
“Pin Cushion!” Zara replied loudly.
“That’s very odd,” Miss Strickland mumbled to herself. “Tell me what happened, Tiffany.”
“Well, she was acting really weird all the way to the toilets,” Tiffany said dramatically. “She just stared all the time and whispered stuff about not being allowed to get wet. Then when I started drying her off with some paper towels she went all psycho and started smoking.”
“Cigarettes?” Miss Strickland asked.
“No!” Tiffany said. “Smoke started coming out of her mouth! Then she started jumping around like a loony ballet dancer. I tried to stop her, but she was too strong, so I pushed her into the cubicle and came up to you. What do you think is wrong with her? Do you think she has ADHD?”
“I don’t think so,” Miss Strickland said.
“Sausage Rolls!” the voice yelled from behind the cubicle door.
“Zara,” Miss Strickland said. “I’ll count to five and by the time I get to five I want you out of
there. Okay?”
“Mud!”
“One...Two.... three.... four...five.”
“Pukey pickled cucumbers!”
“Zara, come out!” Miss Strickland yelled.
“Plop!”
“Okay, I’m coming in,” Miss Strickland said.
Suddenly something black and furry sailed over the top of the cubicle door and landed on the floor.
“What’s that?” Tiffany asked.
Miss Strickland picked it up and gasped. “I think it’s Zara’s hair,” she said, eyes wide with disbelief.
Tiffany frowned. “Zara’s bald?”
Miss Strickland handed the hair to Tiffany, who held it gingerly between two fingers, then stepped up to the cubicle door. “I’m coming in, Zara.”
“Cow udders!”
Carefully, Miss Strickland pushed on the door. Fortunately it wasn’t locked and swung open easily. She gasped and almost dropped her coffee. Although she expected Zara to look at little different without her hair, nothing could have prepared her for what she saw standing against the wall at the back of the cubicle. It seemed as if she had somehow left Wattle Creek Primary School and stepped into an episode of one of the science fiction television shows she enjoyed watching.
“She’s a robot,” Tiffany breathed.
Although below her eyebrows Zara still looked like a perfectly ordinary ten-year-old girl, above her eyebrows where her hair had been was a smooth, pink dome covered in tiny blinking lights. Puffs of smoke drifted from her mouth, nose and ears.
“I think we’d better get Mr Barker,” Miss Strickland said slowly.
“Squashed plums!”
Normally a sick or injured child was brought to the sick room, but Zara was no ordinary child, so she was kept in the girls’ toilets until her parents arrived to collect her, much to the dismay of the rest of the school community.
By the end of morning tea everybody had heard about the strange robot girl and were crowded around the door eager to get a glimpse of her.
“Morning tea is over!” Mr Barker shouted almost ten minutes after the bell had gone. “Go back to class!”
Reluctantly, the crowd dispersed.
“Jenny, you can go back to class now,” Mr Barker said, coming back into the toilet block. “Zara’s owners should be here soon.”
Miss Strickland picked up her empty coffee cup from the sink. “Will you be okay by yourself with her?”
Mr Barker glanced at Zara, who was now sitting motionless on a chair, staring blankly ahead. “I think so,” he said. “She hasn’t done anything now for almost ten minutes.”
Just then Mrs Richardson, the school secretary, arrived with Zara’s owners, Mr and Mrs Smith, in tow. She gasped when she spotted Zara. “Oh my goodness, so looks so lifelike.”
“Yes, doesn’t she?” Mr Barker said.
“Oh, we are just so sorry about all of this,” Mr Smith said, shaking Mr Barker’s hand. “We thought that she was ready.”
“Ready?” Mr Barker asked.
“Yes,” Mr Smith said. “Jill and myself are scientists, and we wanted to see if Zara could blend in with real children. We hadn’t figured on her getting wet.”
He glanced at the motionless robot and shook his head sadly. “What a mess.”
“She will need a complete rework,” Jill said, shaking her head. “It will take months.”
“She had me fooled,” Miss Strickland said. “Although she seemed a little too bright for a ten year old girl.”
“Yes, we’ll need to adjust that,” Mrs Smith said.
“She gave some of us quite a surprise,” Mr Barker said.
“I’m sure she did,” Mr Smith said. “We won’t keep you any longer. Thank you so much for what you have done.”
“No problem,” Mr Barker said, shaking his hand again. “Although do please give us some warning next time.”
“Certainly,” Mr smith said.
“Do you need a hand getting her to the car?” Mr Barker offered.
“No, we’ll be fine,” Mr Smith said. “Her components are very light.”
He lifted her from the chair and cradled her easily in his arms. “Thanks again,” he said, and left quickly, Mrs Smith following closely.
“Hmm,” Mr Barker said, watching them go.
“Do I really have to go back?” Miss Strickland asked, hearing the noise of her class waiting upstairs.
Mr Barker patted her on the shoulder. “Good luck.”
Miss Strickland groaned.
As they drove out of the school gate, Mrs Smith turned to her husband. “We almost succeeded this time.”
“Yes we did,” Mr Smith replied. “Just a few more adjustments and she’ll blend in perfectly.”
“All of this extra activity this morning has made me feel really run down,” Mrs Smith said. “Do you mind?”
“No, not at all,” Mr Smith said. “You go ahead. ”
Mrs Smith opened the glove box and took out a long, skinny cord. She pushed one end into the cigarette lighter and the other end into her left ear. It clicked into place. Then she settled back in her seat and closed her eyes. Her head began to hum softly.
Mr Smith glanced at her lovingly and scratched absentmindedly at the blinking light just under the hair on the back of his neck.