There were 25 of us milling around outside the classroom when our home room teacher, Jo, turned up ready to take the roll at her usual time, at 10 minutes to 9.
By then we were a noisy, excited cacophony of voices; lots of shouting, lots of running around in one big group. Let's just say that we weren't acting as normal.
Normal for us is a big mix. The sporty ones are always throwing a ball to each other. There's another group of sporty types who are dedicated to table tennis. A few of the more fashion-conscious girls stand around in small clusters, flicking their hair and assessing the group's fashion choices for the day. And then there are the nerdy, awkward, quiet and self-conscious ones on the fringe – that's me.
But when Jo turned up, we all stopped as one, and turned to face her with our faces full of happy expectation.
We waited to see how long it would take Jo to see the creatures. And we waited and waited.
Nothing.
She swept her eyes across our faces, and her welcoming smile stopped in its tracks.
Jo has been with our group since we moved across to high school in year seven, so we know her well.
We trust her with our problems; we know that she will pull out all the stops to help us.
So when it became obvious after a few seconds that Jo couldn't see the bubbles bumping against her hessian book bag, her mop of black curls and her tie-dyed scarf, we all looked at each other in bewilderment.
I cringe now when I think about how we handled it.
"Jo," one of us said. "Look, they're right next to you!"
Jo swivelled her head around quickly and then turned to us looking confused.
"What! What am I looking at?"
We burst out laughing as we stood in a big circle around Jo, united for once in disbelief.
And Jo started to change in front of our eyes, from our friendly homeroom confidante to a teacher.
We were all ordered into class and Jo attempted to calm us down by getting down to the business of marking the roll.
It didn't work. And our class was just one of many across Canberra that day to notch up its own personal failure.
We usually leave the classroom door open and some of the bubbles floated inside with us.
It's as if they were curious and wanted to learn what would be happening next.
That's when Oliver took things a step too far and changed his life for ever.
YOU ARE READING
How we lost the world
Science FictionThis is a dystopian tale where we find out what was really important all along. What would turn your world upside down - where desk jobs were no longer an option, where all your community's sporting fields and open spaces were turned into market gar...
