Burnington Gaol

F O R T Y | Adeline

My eyes wandered up to the ticking clock, which moved about as quickly as the stuttering, snail-paced voice of my classmate Alice, who was reading a chapter from F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby.

Just five more minutes, I thought to myself. Five more, then you're free to go. The thought was then challenged by the fact that I wasn't really free to go – after all, the only place I could go freely was back to the watchtower. I scowled, let out a quiet groan. If only I'd listened to my brother.

"Why don't you just skip school?" Billy had asked that morning.

"Because they'll call Dad."

"Alright, just get off the bus near Oak Street."

"Dad talks to the bus driver every night when he picks me up at the bus stop."

"Bribe him."

"With what? I'm broke."

It was infuriating, but I had to find a way to slip him undetected, or he'd bump up the punishment or do something to truly halt the investigation.

Then a genius thought began to brew on the horizon.

Lunch was in five minutes, and after that there was a further forty minutes in which I was allowed to do what I liked without being under constant supervision – if you didn't include the teacher patrols, but they weren't too difficult to dodge. Even better, Oak Street, like everything in this one-horse town, was a ten minute walk from here, and even if Seth wasn't there, his aunty would be.

The bell went, and I scooped all my belongings back into my bag in one movement. Lunch had started, and the countdown had begun.

***

The school oval had been out-of-bounds since November the previous year, which made supervision scarce on that side of the school. I'd once asked why that was the case, and somebody had told me that the school had been built during the Lincoln Fish Boom – a period of time when the town was new and rich, thriving on a now dwindling fish population. Since the fish has started to die out, the town's population had been severed, and thus the school was far too big for its student body – which made things much easier for me.

I quietly slunk past the old buildings out onto the green, keeping my eye on the teacher on duty. She never noticed, and under the protection of those great empty buildings, I began to trudge along into the outside world.

There was a blaring white feeling in my gut, an explosion of chaos coursing through my veins. I didn't do this – I didn't wag class or skip lunch. I glanced back at the teacher, picked up the pace, broke out into a run. My legs burned, my anxiety swelled. By the time I had even thought of slowing down, I was in the suburb of Brosna, the bright blue sky began to turn a deep shade of grey. It soon became so dark that the street lights flickered on, coating the place in a glistening shade of yellow. My legs trembled, slowed to a walk.

I was out.

Free.

Gone.

The feeling was exhilarating.

A broad smile stretched across my trembling lips as I passed an old pub. I ran my hand along the top of an old steel bench outside, glanced up at a flickering streetlight, just up the road. My dad was going to kill me. And yet, as the pale blue rain began to fall against my hot cheeks, I realised that I really didn't care.

An echo of voices began to float down the street. Frowning, I peered through the light rain and spotted a house in the distance. People were crowded around it, their stiff, rigid voices drifting on by. It was Seth's house – Twenty-One Oak – and at least a dozen reporters sat on the lawn and the paths, talking to each other or into a camera being held up by some buff, empty-headed man. I narrowed my eyes, inched closer to the scene.

"Like vultures, aren't they?"

I jumped, startled by the voice. I turned to see Billy standing beside me, his brown eyes examining the house.

"No wonder paparazzi is Italian for mosquito," he said.

"What are you doing here? How'd you get out?" I asked, shock resonating in my chest.

"You're not the only one who can make friends with the guards," he said. "What about you? Skipping school, I see."

Billy smiled broadly, and I lowered my eyes.

"Shut up."

"I'll make a rebel out of you yet, big sister."

"Don't count on it," I told him. "How long have you been here?"

"Not long. The aunt's out, Seth's not here, and I've just been waiting for the vultures to fly away."

I looked over at them again, the road between us.

"It doesn't look like they're going anywhere," I said, eyeing the ones sitting on the curb.

"And we don't have time to wait," Billy mused.

We both fell silent, our thoughts briefly parting us.

"Billy," I said quite suddenly, breaking the silence. "Do you by chance know how to pick a lock with a hairpin?"

Billy looked at me, and his expression slowly transformed from confusion to a devilish grin.

"Please, darling, don't you know me at all?"

© A.G. Travers 2018